His Protector | DreamNotFound

Chapter 5

TW: blood, death

He shambled on the edge of the sidewalk, unstable feet threatening him to meet the ground. A half-full bottle of beer was placed clumsily in his right hand, liquid dripping out of it. The street lights were hurting his eyes more than they normally would, distorting his sense of navigation. He felt like the earth had lost all of its gravity, making him float above its soil.

Every Saturday ended like this; his friends convincing him to down at least one drink, fastly escalating into five more. The more and more he took, the harder it was for him to notice what they were talking about or what was happening in general. The repeating sound of clinking glass was stuck in his head, making it feel like cannon shots were being fired inside.

He attempted grabbing a nearby lamppost for support but failed miserably, ending up in him crashing down on the streets left from him. Glass shattered across the place. Cars could ride him over, but due to the light from the lamppost he'd tried to grab he was fully visible. It was late anyway, no one would be driving with the danger outside.

Suddenly, he wasn't able to breathe. Something that felt like soft rope was buttoned around his neck, crushing his throat until it hurt. Rasping sounds filled the air while he tried to get rid of the rope. The more he moved and struggled to remove it, the tighter it got. It felt like what a constrictor would do to his prey. Multiple endings of the rope were pressing into his neck harshly, endings made of broken glass cutting through his skin. He felt no pain, just discomfort from the blocked airway.

He lifted his eyelids with effort, his eyes meeting the black asphalt. Dark red rain was pouring from above him, making its way to a nearby hole in the street. Something cold yet familiar touched his ear, moving as silent whispering echoed through his head.

'You shouldn't have done that.'

You shouldn't have done that.

You shouldn't have done that.

Although the words were ringing loudly through the air, they didn't reach his comprehension. Black dots were overtaking his vision when his view changed from the streets to the white light again, this time a black figure standing bent over him. No details could be made out of his vision, only that the shadow-like person was presumably a male. The pressure on his throat weakened, cold oxygen filling his lungs again. He breathed out, white clouds of air instantly disappearing in the space around. The shadow vanished before his eyes, the light was making him nauseous. Words were making more sense little by little.

Shouldn't have done what?

'Your blood smells awful, you know that?' The same voice that spoke a few seconds earlier mentioned. He had no idea what it was supposed to mean, but his body calmed down to the calming aspect the male had hidden in his tone. His mind, on the other hand, was a mix of dizziness and freaking out. Breathing sounded loud in his eardrums.

Two knife-like objects were shoved into the inside of his wrist, pulling the body part more upwards. Without him noticing, a shrill scream repeated itself through the neighborhood he was in. He didn't even remark it was his own until the dizziness faded away, making place for clarity. Once he figured out he was getting drained of the main thing he needed to live, he screamed and screamed for help until his lungs were dry, but nobody came to get him out. His eyes closed slowly as his head got lighter, his last image of the world being a hooded boy sucking at his arm and a green hoodie bit by bit being soaked in his blood.

0-=-=-=-=-=-0

The hard mattress was definitely going to leave his back in pain the next morning. He was getting out of breath by turning around every ten seconds to find a better position to lay in. Gentle snores from the boy next to him were keeping his mind from turning crazy from the silence.