white eyes, blank souls (broken heart-strings sequel)

four

Melly shook hard on her bed, Edgar beside her. He'd been trying to calm her down for hours, but it seems that nothing like that is going to work. She refuses to cry, but she's taken off her weird hat thing for the first time. Truly, she is beautiful.

"Someone died here?! They died?!" she cries out over everything, making Edgar flinch back.

Fiona's words weren't true, right? She had to be lying? Making an excuse for Aesop's strange action against Victor? She had to be- No. This was too real. Everything is just too real.

WHY IS EVERYTHING SO FUCKING REAL?

"Wow. Fuck you up that bad?" a familiar voice rose up, making Melly's glare shoot up at the door. There he stood, weapon and all. Fiona has slightly warned about this hunter, but... she did lie about the whole DEAD BODY thing. That was a pretty major lie, so why should any of them believe her warning about him?

Andrew looked up from where he had been sitting in the floor with Victor, bandaging him. Before anymore words come from the hunter's mouth, Andrew grimaces and forces himself to keep helping his fellow survivor.

"I feel like anything to that extreme would..?" Edgar mumbles, grabbing Melly's hand tight. He would've turned to ask her how she felt, but Luca just had to burst into the room, throwing himself past the hunter.

"You guys, I got all the info on Eli Clark!"

Joseph snarled his nose at the name, before turning back to face the others. Pulling something from his pocket, he walked over to Edgar and placed it in his hands. There were three printed out photos, one quite a bit more blurry than the others. Edgar could tell who was in the photos from the very first glance.

Looking back at Joseph, the photographer smiled and winked, before walking out of the room.

Edgar looked back down at the photos, then up to Luca, who was glaring at him with a questioning stare. Yeah, he knew what these were, but why did Joseph give them to him?

-:-:-

Slamming hands into the lockers outside, it was no shock that the gentle fingers that once tried to sew shut all the injuries and pain amongst everyone else were covered with blood. Screaming. Crying. Emily Dyer's gloves lay right beside where she stands, shredded and dirty.

The person slowly approaching her remembered when they started putting stuff out here. The endless broken lockers and snapped pallets surrounded the manor, most leaned up against the wall, just like the locker the doctor is beating the shit out of.

He watches her with a smile, tiptoeing closer and closer. She knows he's there, but refuses to say a word, continuing to beat the fuck out of the locker.

"Boy problems?"

Emily stops, staring at the rusted metal in anger. The hunter behind her caused all of this. It was his fault. It will always be his fault, right?

Before Joseph can do anything at all, Emily jumps onto him, slamming him hard into the ground. She sits on his chest, slapping his face as hard as she can. Blood smears and splatters, but it isn't his. Tears block her from seeing his face. He just holds onto her hips, keeping her from falling off of him.

"I fucking hate you! It's your fault!" she screams as loud as possible, making Joseph smile. A few people who were on the porch hear and come running for the girl.

"My fault, my dear? I didn't throw the finishing blow now, did I?" he mocks. Emily keeps hitting his face - it's all sloppy and weak, the tears finally spewing out faster than before. She slumps, just barely tapping his chest. The people who were previously approaching get closer.

Everything feels wrong. Too wrong. There's something in this forest air that seems a little thicker than before. The strumming of a pretty ukulele isn't coming from that window on the end of the hall. The misty dew of nightfall almost feels suffocating, like the jellied fat that condenses on expired canned meat. It leaks, dripping down farther and farther; all Emma can see is blood running down Eli's walls.

Eli.

Everyone in that manor knew the smell of blood by heart because of him. Because of him and this man under the bleeding girl. She stops, taking a deep breath of the forest air. It's not as fresh as she once thought, now infected with disease and brothy infections of no tomorrow. It will never be clean again. She can never make it clean again. No one will ever be able to breathe it in freely again.

-:-:-

"Please get off of me!"

Yelling. All anyone around would be able to hear is yelling, that is if there was anyone to hear it at all.

Crying harder, boy attempts to push the larger male off of him, but there's not much he can do. There's not much anyone can do. Norton's eyes are red, swollen, not blinking, as he lays deadweight on his boyfriend. Mike has never and will never have the strength to push the other off of him.

He's crying, sobbing so hard that the already impossible act of breathing becomes even harder with all the weight on his chest. Norton was out of it, all the drugs running through his system faster than either of them had thought possible. Though the acrobat couldn't blame anyone but his boyfriend, it was all ultimately Joseph's fault. Anything that had to do with drugs was that whore's fault.

"Please! Get off!" he cries, trying to pull Norton off of him. Bruises and cuts ache harder under all the pressure, which just leads Mike to squirm more and more. Screaming at the top of his lungs is all he can do.

Footsteps run down the hall to the room, someone bursting into the room. Mike can't help but relax at the strong smell of whiskey that always seems to radiate off of the girl. Pulling Norton off of the blonde, Demi can't help but frown at the sight. Mike jumps up in excitement, holding on tight to the female's neck.

"Thank you!"

She sighs, smiling slightly, "I hate those toxic words..."