Am I Dead? (M. Occult Freak x Reader)

The Worst Date

        It was a jolt like hell. Your eyes cracked open, peering through the dark enclosed space with a curious gaze. At first it felt like being hugged inside a warm blanket, peaceful like a hug from a loved one, but that feeling sapped from your body as your realized you couldn't move. You tried lifting your arms first, rattling your enclosure with rapid panicking motions. Each bang of your fist accented the desperate tone of your voice, crescendoing as a cascade of dirt fell into your mouth and nostrils. A filthy, wet and earthy taste swept pass your tongue; likely it had just rained to make the dirt this wet. Further you dug, a truly terrifying sight for anyone who watched from the outside, though that was not something you cared about at the moment. 

        Surprisingly, as you finally reached the surface, you retained no injuries to be seen. The first breath of fresh air caused you such relief, bordering on euphoria as you tried to put into context your surroundings. two things came to mind as points of interest as you gulped in wave after wave of fresh air. One: You had no idea how you had possibly been buried and trapped within the coffin and Two: Had you been buried alive? You pulled yourself from the casket, questioning everything that had gone on in the past couple of days, but most importantly, you questioned yourself. 

        "A-Am I dead?" 

        Well, there was a simple way to check. Hesitantly, you raised two fingers to your vein, checking for any sign that blood was indeed pumping through you. Alas you found nothing, causing a swelling sense of panic to erupt from the inner depths of your very being. Your skin felt like leather, a suit of not even your own making. Was it so right to feel like a stranger within one's own skin? Frantically you pressed a hand to your chest, the flesh growing taut against your touch as you tried to feel one pulse, a beat, anything to signal that everything was fine. Nothing, nada, zippo, zilch, zero, whatever you wanted to say there was no reassurance and that fact only left you more stumped and afraid. 

        "What the hell happened to me?!" You yelled to no one other than yourself, questioning the very Earth you stood upon.

        Thinking about the possibilities you began to become nauseous, a certain sense of horror coming over you. This wasn't real, for how could it be? It was as if you had stepped out of normal life and into some kind of bad zombie movie. The topic plagued your mind like a pack of locusts to crop, however, the harder you thought about it, the more your head began to hurt. Flashes of memory hit you. A knife, dark hair, linking arms, and....something you indescribable passed your eyes. Flinching, you held your head. These memories....these awful awful memories came crashing back into you, causing your face to sour as your remembered your skittish, emo friend who had caused this whole mess in the first place. 

        "Malcom!" You shouted in an irritated manner, hitting the moist dirt with a tightened fist.

        Somewhere, a few miles away from the cemetery, a black haired boy with piercings woke up.

~~~

        Malcom Endworth, a boy who had been friends with you for years. He was a skittish thing with a height of 5'8, clear blue eyes like glass, and jet black dyed hair that combated with his family's blonde and cheery disposition. The two of you had met when you were younger, a past similar to that of any other new kid in a strange and amazing neighborhood. To the outsider, Malcom's family was picture perfect, beautiful and utterly the symbol of the American Dream. His mother never seemed to show her age as she took care of her three kids, pet, and husband at home. His father worked hard and held frequent cookouts for all the neighbors to see and lastly his brother, well, he was a regular sports star. It was only when you laid your eyes upon Malcom did you begin to find the boy to be a bit bizarre straight off the bat.