༺The Evil Within༻Memory's Captive

II. Sheriff Tight Pants

Entry #2

Subjects haven't reacted negatively to the experiment yet. A good sign to say in the least. What's going on within their minds however is a completely different matter. We still haven't perfected the sensors, so constant supervision is impossible. Though we have spotted brief images of subjects encountering disfigured versions of deceased patients..

- Marcelo Jimenez

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The monster held her high above the concrete ground, her feet dangling at least a foot above it. She gasped for breath but it was futile. Her eyes stung as tears began to form and run down her porcelain cheeks. The beast's other arm raised and launched at her forehead, gripping it with yellowed, claw-like nails and gouging into her fragile skin. She tried to cry out in agony, but no noise came out. Despite this, she didn't stop struggling. Not even when she began to feel it twist at her neck..

Bang!

An explosion of brain matter followed the gun shot. The creature's body gave a jolt before crumbling lifeless to the ground. Claire gulped down air the moment she was released, ignoring the slight scrapes she received upon falling onto the concrete. "What the hell.." She breathed, still gasping. Under normal circumstances, Claire was never one to curse. But nothing about this was normal now was it?

"Ya alright there, miss?"

A male voice called out to her just a short distance away. She scrambled onto her feet in fear of meeting another one of those beasts, but to her relief, only a tall young man handling a pistol stood behind her. A sort of cocky, know-it-all smirk lay upon his lips and a mischievous glint danced in his blue eyes. Ugh. She hated him already.

"Miss?" He repeated, raising his brows lightly and taking a step forward. His short choppy hair was a sandy blond as well as his heavy stubble around his jaw. He was clad in a black leather jacket and matching pants (that were waaay too tight in her opinion). A golden police sheriff's badge was pinned to the left his chest and a belt heavy with ammo was strapped to his waist. Her eyes narrowed in light distrust, but she stood up straight and answered begrudgingly.

"I'm fine.."

He chuckled softly and strolled forward, tucking his gun into his belt. "You're a bad liar, y'know?"

"Then why did you ask if I was alright, Sheriff Tight Pants?" She deadpanned, wincing as she touched the wounds on her forehead. The taller man merely chuckled at her sour behavior and bent down to her level, only infuriating her more. Though she was silent when he pulled out what looked like a healing salve and bandages from his belt and began to tend to her wounds.

"You gotta name?"

She was again hesitant. "Claire.. Claire Beckman."

"Keith Laymond." He grinned toothily and extended a strong hand to her. She shook it.

As he plastered a couple of bandages on her forehead, the sickening feeling of fear sank in her gut. That monster. It was real. This wasn't some sick hallucination. She'd felt its talons dig into her throat. She had the wounds to prove it.

"So, w-what was that thing anyway?" She couldn't contain her voice from trembling. Keith's proud demeanor quickly faltered. He paused a moment before bandaging the last wound and looking her in the eye.

"A haunted."

//Thanks again for reading my work! Remember to vote and/or comment if you're enjoying it this far! Have a nice day and see you in the next chapter!\\