The heart acoustic (Ghostface x reader)

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

Blood was everywhere.  Seeping into the cracks between the floorboards, giving the walls a fresh layer of red 'paint,' the metallic smell wafting through the building and into everyone's nostrils like that of a pastry in a cartoon.  When your father suggested getting the wooden floors a new stain, this was not at all what he meant.

And yet, it was what he got.  Three masked figures standing over him, tearing off bits of his skin of like they were peeling a large orange.  And you were huddled against the wall, sobbing.  The man who raised you was dying out on the floor, and you could do nothing but watch, and wait for the three men to get over his corpse and do the same thing to you.  It'd be your screams filling the room in a few moments.

That was, until red and blue lights filled the room, seeming like a pure light from heaven.  The three men panicked, and looked up at you.  The black ski masks hid their faces, so if you managed to live through this, it's not like you could give the police facial descriptions of the attackers.  You were helpless.  Truly, and utterly helpless.

"Get the kid, rip their fucking throat out," one of the men demanded.  "Destroy anything that could link the body to an identity."

"And what would that fucking include," the second one questioned.

"Are you that dense?!  You know, fingerprints, dental, soulmark, anything that puts a name to the face," the third shouted angrily.

The second man trudged over to you, and ripped you up from your spot on the floor.  You yelped in pain, his grip being far harsher than you expected.  He saw the letters lining your forearm, and grabbed a pocket knife from his... you know... pocket.  

"'You take a knife, and you split em' from groin to sternum,'" the man read.  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"Well, now we're just saving this kid from a life of tragedy," the third chuckled.

Sirens began to blare out in the distance, and the man drove his pocket knife into your arm.  He forced it down, tearing right through the words like scissors through paper.  You screamed out in pain, and the man grabbed your hand.  He was about to mutilate your fingertips to get rid of that evidence, when someone began to bang on the door.

"POLICE, OPEN UP," someone screeched.

"Oh shit, kill them!  Kill the kid, now," the third instructed.  "We need to get the fuck out of here!"

"Jokes on you asshole," you giggled, shock, adrenaline, and most likely delirium setting in.  "I've got a second soulmark...  and you don't know where!  People are going to recognize it, find you, and I for one can't wait to see you in the electric chair!"

You were seething at this man, as if your small act of rebellion wasn't enough proof.  But the man holding you was somehow even angrier.

"You little fucking-" the second began.

He cut himself off by quickly using his pocket knife to stab you in the side.  He dropped you and went to rejoin his two partners in their grand escape.  The door flew open, and multiple cops with guns and other weapons began to make their way into the room.  Some chased after the three intruders, and one officer found you laying on the ground, crying out in pain.

"We got someone alive in here!  CALL THE PARAMEDICS, WE'VE GOT A SURVIVOR!!"

The officer quickly kneeled down, and began to try and apply pressure to your side.  Your arm was in fiery pain, but the incision close to your vital organs was the bigger concern at the moment.

"You know, I've got a kid your age myself," the officer told you.  "He can't seem to get his shit together, he likes to ignore the future.  I, for one, think he's being stupid.  I heard what you told those men as they were threatening to kill you.  And I have to say, that takes the cake, I don't think my son could do something like that."

"My dad," you managed to choke out.

You managed to point in his general direction, and the officer looked over.

"Yeah, I saw him.  It's going to be okay.  But right now, you're my main priority," she told you.

Soon enough, ambulances began to pull down the driveway, and you were loaded into one.  Paramedics bustled around inside the small vehicle, trying their best to keep you stable.  You knew it was inevitable that you'd be questioned by police, but you didn't want to think about it.  You didn't want to think about how useless you'd be to them.  All you had was the voices, and that couldn't get you too far.

You felt them poke a needle into your arm, and one paramedic tried to tell you something.  You couldn't really hear them that well, the adrenaline wearing off, and the pain in your arm and side began to somehow get worse.  You began to feel tired, and you could feel your eyes starting to droop.  You didn't need to sleep, but maybe you could just rest your eyes...

But when you opened them back up, you were in a hospital room, laying in a bed, wires and plugs running in and out of your arms through IV drips.  You felt like a machine someone was in the process of building.  You knew they were a bunch of pain killers and anti biotics to keep you from getting an infection, but it made your head feel... strange.  Like your brain was swimming.

You looked down at your arm.  The threatening soulmark was almost completely gone, hidden away by gashes and stitches.  Soon it'd be permanently censored by scars.  The other one was hidden under your shirt, on your ribcage.  And thank fuck, this person was far less creepy.

'Any chance you have the notes?  My dimwit friend over there didn't pay attention.'

A cop walked in, and you were a little disappointed that it wasn't the one from inside the house.  Believe it or not, her distracting you from the issues at hand by talking about her son was pretty good for you.  Plus, she was nice.

"Hello there Mx. (l/n)," the officer greeted.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"You shouldn't be talking.  One of the doctors messed up and gave you something that gave you an allergic reaction, your throat closed up a bit.  You're not gonna talk for a few hours," he told you.  "I brought a notebook for you to write on.  I just need to ask you some questions.  I'd hold off till tomorrow when you can speak, but we're kinda busy down at the precinct."

He grabbed a chair and set it down next to the bed, and took a seat.  You were nervous, considering you had no information for him.  You had failed your father, and now you were going to fail the justice system.

"Can you tell me what those men looked like?"

'I couldn't see what they looked like, they had masks on,' you wrote.

"Okay... is there anyone who could've wanted your father dead?"

'Not that I know of.'

"Alright then.  The records show your mom lost a battle to cancer, so is there any other family you could stay with?"

'Don't talk about my mother like that.'

"Sorry then.  But is there anyone that you can stay with?"

'I think I have a grandmother in California.'

"Alright, we'll look into that then.  My condolences for your father."

And with that, he stood up, and left the room.

A/n: 'The Mind Electric' by Miracle Musical, and the remake by Chonny Jash are living in my head rent free right now, so... here we are.

Also, I know the excuse the officer gave for the throat closing up was shit, it's meant to be that way, please don't act rude and shit.  I'm already freaked out enough by the horny bastards, I don't want to worry about people who go crazy over medicinal correctness in fucking fanfics too.