Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy FUCK.
Adrenaline pumps through his body, sweat trickling down his forehead as William is stock still on the ground, his arms shaking slightly.
"Is someone there?" The words echo through the hall, seemingly coming from every direction before making its way to his ears.
He swallows, his eyes shut tightly.
"I can hear someone creeping though my room…" The scraping of metal sounds, almost impossibly close, and he starts to shake.
Small beads of sweat splash on the floor, dotting his hands, and seeping its way into small cuts which he hadn't realised existed.
Please don't let me die…
She's so close to him, Ballora, and he can feel the disturbance in the air as she makes her way past him. William holds his breath.
He could almost reach out and…no. NO. nO.
Why would he do that? She'd rip him to pieces instantly, the amount of times he's seen that happen. But. He wouldn't feel anything after the first few seconds. It'd be over quickly.
Thoughts float in and out of his head as he debates his options.
Should I move? Or…survive.
His mind is made up for him, as the scraping of metal is final gone, Ballora leaving a few parting words.
"Perhaps not."
He could almost cry in relief, but he needs to keep moving.
Torch in hand, and opening his eyes just in case, he scuttles along the floor. His shoes making occasionally scuffing noises as they're dragged across the lino floor.
Sometimes when he listens hard enough, he's still able to hear Ballora in the distance; the familiar scraping of the metal as she glides across the floor almost as if she's in a trance.
If he wasn't scared out of his mind, he might be more tempted to just turn and watch, but that day is not today, and he needs to go.
Get this fucking job done, so we can leave.
The presence of his thoughts are almost comforting in this silence, if not for one thing, they signal that he's alive. That he hasn't been torn up yet.
Yet. He sighs, stopping momentarily to run his hand through his hair in an attempt to slick it back.
It doesn't work.
Shakily getting to his feet, he looks around slowly, flashlight in hand.
Alright, she fucking isn't around. That's good. He exhales. A clang sounds behind him.
He stills, his spine straight as a rod with every hair standing straight up. His heart is beating fast, the sound pounding in his ears, soon becoming the only sound he can hear.
Eyes are staring at hm, he can feel it. Feel the tiny pricks that accompany the feeling. Feel the danger he may be in.
In front of him stands a door, a thick heavy one, which conceals the entrance to the breaker room. His fingers twitch.
I need to get in there
Beads of sweat run down his face as he nervously chews on his bottom lip. He could actually die. Right here, right now. In this shitty hall, and in this shitty room. He really doesn't want that.
Slowly, he reaches his arm out, his fingers getting closer and closer towards the doorknob; to his salvation.
William gulps.
His nerves are shot, and he's riding high on fear. Even as he brings his hand up, he can see how much it's actually shaking.
All too slow, he grasps the door knob, feeling the cool metal beneath his hand, and he turns it. The door almost bounces open, slamming against the wall behind it.
He stiffens, and he can hear the slight scraping of metal and the distant playing of a music box behind him.
This is his one chance; to get away from her, and to get the power back on. To not die, and to actually see his remaining child when he comes home.
Looking in the black abyss past the door, he places the torch in between his teeth and takes his chance.