Here's the second chapter. So good to see a positive response to my creation so far. Also, a lot of the elements featured in this story will be based on/inspired by true events while others will be borrowed from the game or entirely made up. I'm not going to tell you what is real and what's not, but do know that not everything I tell you in this story has happened. Most things that have happened will have to be modified in order to be written properly and understood.
I also had to change something else about Chloe so that what's coming down the line will make sense. I've done some research on it, and I'll be doing more soon, but I'm also gonna make my own thing with it because my story, my rules. Chloe... will now be intersex. If you don't know what that means, it means she has both sets of genitalia. It'll be explained more later, it's not too important right now. Just know that it took a lot of thought on whether or not to include this feature and I'm still internally freaking out about my choice to do it.
WARNING: The following chapter contains mention of physical abuse, mention of rape, and graphic depictions of nightmares.
I didn't want to get up from my bed. My fingers dug into my pillow tightly, my jaw clenched and eyes shut as tightly as possible. I should open my eyes. Maybe then I'd stop seeing my nightmare replaying behind my eyelids.
Their claws dragged against the cement floor. I could see the sparks they created from the friction.
My heart pounded against my ribcage. Almost like it was pleading with me to get up. But I couldn't move.
Their eyes, or lack thereof. Empty, stretched out, never-ending sockets boring into me.
My head ached. Get up. For God's sake, get up.
Their mouths, twisted up in horrifying grins that showed off their bloody serrated teeth. Blood. Why blood?
My legs trembled. I wanted to run. I couldn't run.
"Chloe..." Their voices like a distorted song. Calling to me. They wanted me.
My chest felt tight. I could hardly breathe. Pain blossomed in various parts of my body, and my head felt like it was being crushed. Anxiety attack. Why wouldn't I get up?!
"Come, child... Don't you want to join me?"
His voice. Not his voice, anything but his voice!
His face, looming in the background. He commanded his minions. The monsters in my mind.
"Chloe."
Something wet hit my lips.
"Chloe, get up! Holy shit!"
I felt my body shaking, but not from its own force. Someone was shaking me. My eyes flew open and all the pain, the trembling, the anxiety, nearly blew sky high as I jumped away from the blurry figure in front of my face. My heart felt like it was going to explode at any second.
"Che, calm down!"
Rachel?
Before I could register anything else, she shoved a handful of tissues into my hand. I tasted blood on my tongue. Nosebleed.
"Oh, fuck..." I mumbled, and pressed the tissue to my upper lip.
She watched me hesitantly, an awkward silence hanging in the air. Shifting on her feet, I knew she had a question. She was building up the nerve to ask because she was scared of the answer. Her brow creased in worry and she rolled her knuckles.
"Was it another nightmare?" Rachel asked me, sitting at the end of the bed. I nodded slowly but didn't meet her eyes.
That's all she knew about my internal struggles, that was all she'll ever know. I could never tell her about the voices, or the things they made me see. The things they craved to make me do. She may have been on the border of becoming my best friend, but this was something I couldn't bring myself to tell her. The only reason she knew about the nightmares was because I was spending the night at her house when I had one. She told me that I was crying and pleading in my sleep for someone, or something, to leave me alone. When she looked down to check on me, my face was a mess of blood and tears. It really freaked her out.
I was just thankful that I didn't say his name.
Rachel reached out and gently untangled my fingers from the blanket, which I didn't know I was clutching so tightly. Her fingers laced with mine and that's when I knew my hands was shaking by the firmness of her grip. I knew she was looking at me, silently begging me to tell her more. But I couldn't. She wouldn't understand.
No one would.
I took a few seconds before unclasping our hands. "Where's Bongo?" I muttered, pulling the covers back from my legs.
"I fed him when I came in." Rachel pulled her hand back hesitantly, almost like she wanted me to take it again. If I needed to. "He's down in the kitchen."
"You used the key under the flower pot?" I get up from my bed and go to my mirror.
"Yeah. Your step-" I turned and gave her a warning glare, one that obviously scared her a bit because I saw her jump. It was slight, unnoticeable to someone not paying close enough attention. But I wasn't the only one watching her. Rachel cleared her throat and started again. "David isn't here and your mom is asleep. You probably have another hour before she gets up."
"Thanks." I said softly. I turned back to my mirror and tentatively removed the tissue from my face. There was still some dried blood on my upper lip and trailing down my mouth, but it seemed to have stopped. I tossed the tissue away and made my way to my closet to pick out my outfit for the day.
My hand reached for my old Firewalk shirt, one that I stole from this guy selling them at their concert three years ago at the sawmill. It was one of my favorite shirts next to my Misfit Skull tank. My fingers have barely brushed the fabric of it when-
"No."
My hand drew to the shirt next to that one. A black shirt with the torso of a skeleton. I took it off the shelf and stared at it. So, we were going for a dead inside theme. Got it. I grabbed my torn black jeans to match and black beanie. I'd give him what he wanted for the time being. Maybe he'd let me think clearly if I did.
Rachel watched me silently, following my mechanical and indecisive movements as I gathered the rest of my clothing s and shower supplies. She'd grown used to my endless strangeness, following my "ask no questions" rule. No matter how bad she wanted to know more, she respected my privacy. She could tell when I was lost in thought. Most likely suspecting that I was thinking about my nightmare.
I picked up my comb from my dresser. "I'll be back." I said, and headed out the room to the bathroom. I shut the door as quietly as possible behind me and started the water in the shower. I set my clothes on the toilet lid and looked at myself in the mirror. My blonde hair wasn't as long as it used to be. It was barely touching my shoulders. I always hated the color of my hair, but I could never do anything about it. I wanted to dye it, cut it shorter if I had the chance. I wanted a change in myself.
My gaze shifted to my face. I saw the discoloration of the bags under my eyes, a faint shade of blueish purple. Like I'd been punched in the face twice. But that hasn't happened for a while. I hadn't been sleeping well. Too many nightmares leading to unavoidable sleepless nights. If it wasn't the nightmares, it was Thirio constantly talking in my head. Keeping me up with his voice feeling like it was grating against my ear drums.
I knew when the mirror started fog up that my shower was ready. I tore my gaze away from myself, thankful for the obstruction, and preceded to get undressed. I placed everything in a haphazard pile by the door and stopped when I got to taking off my boxers. I stared down at them for a few seconds, the unmistakable slight bulge in them hard to ignore. I swallowed thickly.
-"Go on."-
My eyes shut tightly and I felt my heartbeat pick up the pace.
-"Take it. Like the little freak you are."-
This was his doing.
-I shook my head. My eyes were stinging and my vision blurred.-
Why was he making me remember this..?
-He grabbed me by my hair, forcing me closer to the thing in my face. "I said, take it."-
My body was suddenly racked with shivers.
-I choked on my own sob. I had no choice. I didn't want to be in the dark.-
Stop it. Goddamn it, stop!
-"Do what I told you."-
My chest was tightening. I couldn't breathe. My sight started to darken.
-"Or else."-
I don't remember getting on the floor, but I was huddled up against the cabinet under the sink when I came to. My throat hurt from me struggling to catch my breath, the muscles contacting too much and releasing too quickly. I blinked. My nails were digging into my calves. My knees were forced against my chest, in a death grip from my arms.
My boxers felt a little too snug.
He enjoyed that.
The sick fucking bastard.
My legs trembled as I straightened them out. I tilted my head back against the cabinet and swallowed the lukewarm steam in the air. In. Out. In. Out. Breathe. I waited until my body relaxed before getting to my feet. I stripped myself of my boxers without a second thought and gave my attention to the shower in front of me instead of between my legs. I took slow steps to the shower and held on to the door as I got in.
I laid my hand against the shower wall, letting the water hit my head and cascade down my body. I felt it run over the tender parts of my muscles, trying not to think about how dark my skin could still be in some places. I felt the soreness engraved in my shoulders every time a drop of water hit them. I felt the heat soothe the pain in my biceps while the water trickled down them.
If anyone asked, I fell down the stairs. Right.
I looked down, feeling the creak of my neck like I was a robot in need of oil. I gulped. I couldn't leave with this. I had to get rid of it. I felt the familiar nausea raise in my stomach. I had no choice. My hand slipped from the wall down.
"Take it."
I stepped into my room, my hands hurriedly scrubbing a towel over my hair to dry it. Rachel was at my computer when I entered, checking her email. She didn't turn around, but I knew she knew I was back.
"What took so long?" she asked.
"Water pressure." I deadpanned. She could probably tell I was lying, but mercifully said nothing else. I wasn't going to tell her about all the shame I just finished washing down the drain no matter how much she pressed anyway.
I took my pajamas from under my arm and tossed them in the dirty clothes bag by my closet. It was overflowing. I'd get it to it eventually. I took my clothes from the pocket of my jeans and ran it through my hair one more time before returning it to my dresser and topping my outfit off with my beanie. I grabbed my favorite leather jacket from the box next to my bed and slipped it on.
Backpack, check. Cell phone, check. Art supplies, check. Keys, check.
"Ready to go?" Rachel had signed out of her email and closed the tab, making sure to lock my computer. She was facing me now, an eyebrow quirked.
I nodded. "Ready."
I admit the flow of this story will be weird. Some chapters will be long, others not so. I can only write so much so fast, and I want every word I put into this story to feel right. If it's not right, or if it's not the time for something, it simply won't be done. This project is more detail and emotion heavy rather than time and length heavy. I hope you guys understand what I'm saying. I'm going with my gut 100% through this endeavor.
Anyway, I sincerely hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and that you'll be back for more. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
CaptainVampireKing awaaay!