The Nurse Who Loved Me
By: Moi! Chedder
Standard Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Hellsing or any lyrics that open up each chapter, just my character. And yes, that name is from A Perfect Circle, you'll understand by the end.
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"Another mother's breakin'. Heart is taking over. When the violence causes silence. We must be mistaken. It's the same old thing since 1916. In your head, in your head they're still fightin'. With their tanks, and their bombs. And their bombs, and their guns. In your head, in your head they are dying." -The Cranberries, Zombie
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Keep still, keep silent, keep hidden.
The words become a mantra in my head. A self inflicted delusional hope of survival by a shivering, terror stricken slip of a girl simply to keep herself sane in an impossibly insane situation.
But hey, what do you expect me to do beside run, hide and hope to what ever god is listening that whatever is following won't find me? Stay and fight possibly? Stand up for myself and not become this horror induced, sobbing wreck that I am now? After what I've just seen?
Not on your life.
Seeing an entire house hold shredded to pieces, having their blood splatter on your gaping face, hearing the painful and terrified screams of the little children you were just babysitting as though it were through water and not air, the sounds of their parents dying drowned out by the sound of your heart pounded in your ears like a giant sub woofer bass booming out a techno beat in some late night club, and all the while that thing looking you dead in the eye.
I felt so inane standing there with the only thought running through my head being 'Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Don't look at me, please god, stop looking at me' over and over again, screaming in my head when my mouth couldn't articulate my hysterics.
Sad isn't it? That fear from just having those eyes on me froze me to the stop and kept me from doing anything, anything. There may have been little for me to have done and there was a snow balls chance in hell that I could have saved them but don't you think I could have at least died there with them trying? Die a martyr's death, a heroin death, instead of cowering in this wet, humid sewer like a fucking coward.
It was only after it stopped its macabre dance and the carpet a marsh land of blood and sinew with that bestial creature standing in the middle of it all just looking at me that I found the ability to not only scream but run. It didn't matter where I ran just as long as it was away from that monster.
That's how I ended up here in this sewer, sitting at the bottom of a manhole in the middle of the night, on a Canadian military base in South America that I've called home for the past three months, praying to what ever deity that is listening that the beast won't find me. I'm banking on the knowledge that although wolves have a strong sense of smell, hopefully that were-wolf won't catch my scent down here over the reek of sewage and waste.
What I couldn't get through my head and still don't is why it looked at me as it did through out its show. What did it want? Why didn't it kill me? Was it saving me for last? Did it want to take me like a sick trophy in its bloodlust and rape me in that room of red? Did it held some twisted fascination for me? Maybe it was that creepy picture effect? You know the one, where it doesn't matter where you stand the person in the picture still looks like their looking at you. Or was it something else, something…bigger?
Keep still, keep silent, keep hidden. Over and over again like a broken record.
I imagine it barreling down the shaft, coming to finish what it started and leave no possibly witness.
Keep still.
Every sound makes me jump out of my skin and my eyes are constantly darting, trying to chase shadows.
Keep silent.
Please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me. Please. Don't. Find. Me.
Keep hidden.
"Found her!"
No.
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A/N: Good God, I'm morbid.
Experiment