ON YOUR LAST BREATH | Mike Schmidt ✔️

chapter eight .. making adults run

Alas, Haley's senses started to wake up, at first as a body-wide ache similar to a thousand needels pushing in and out of her skin at once.

"Of course, before I could do any of that, I had to wipe out you lot," the man continued with the pathos of someone who hasn't had a proper chat in so very long that even monologues had to do in quenching their thirst for company. With her eyelids flinching, sight returned to Haley in a spotted blur, revealing to her slowly the absolutely horrendous yellow of the synthetic fur glued to the mechanism of a suit drenched in blood and the miasma of death. The Yellow Rabbit was standing over the desk the side of Haley's garage, working under the dim light of her lamp there, onto an oxygen tank, rather dexterous, given those large thumbs the costume turned flesh provided.

"Those who knew William Afton. Those who saw the man I was before I became this. I can't fully embrace my new existence until all of you are gone. Unfortunately, adults are no fun to kill and you've all grown too much. Look at you for—" The man turned around and tilted his head, surprised to look Haley right in her widening eyes. "Ah," he humed, pleased. "You're awake."

A single step taken to approach her fired adrenaline inside her sufficient to kickstart every single sense in her still sleeping. All at once, Haley was overwhelmed by pain in various parts of her body, but especially in her chest. Finally acknowledging that pain made her choke on the insufficient air before she even went through with her attempt to push herself away.

She was about to fall over, gaping like a fish out of water, but just as her back slid from the wall to the side, the hand of the Yellow Rabbit caught her and propped her back up to sit there.

There was very little strength left in her, but she decided to use all of it into shaking her head to avoid being put on the breathing mask he approached her with. It was a puerile, pathetic attempt, because he forced the mask around her nose and mouth and strapped it around her head in almost no time, knowing damn well she would sooner start breathing than deliberately die of asphyxiation.

"That's it, Haley Anne," he snickered, watching through eyes of a glowing white dot. He tilted his head to the side the moment her chest rose on a desperate breath, and lifted his left hand back up to graze one finger across the skin of her cheek. "Don't you wish you had come with me that day now? You would have been warm and cozy, because I am no liar," he accentuated each word, his overly gentle caress suddenly turning into him grasping her chin. "But instead you chose to ruin yourself. To grow up weak and flawed. A mere puny shadow of who you used to be. Your potential could have been eternal!" He shouted in her face, causing Haley to hiccup in a second deep breath.

"I could fix you," he let go and stood up, looking down pointedly, pleased that she lifted her gaze to meet his. "I could," he nodded. "But I won't. You were far too easy to catch!" The sudden exclamation followed and in a surge of exasperation, he stomped around. It was then, on her third big inhale, that Haley realized the oxygen she was inhaling... it smelled odd. "You all are too easy to catch. There's no fun in cornering a scared little rabbit. Even kids put up more of a fight, Haley Anne."

Her head was growing light. Whatever she was breathing, Haley realized it was no good, so she took the strength of no longer suffocating towards raising her hands to her face to pry that mask off.

Instantly, with a creaking stop, the Yellow Rabbit was back in her face, catching both her hands into one of his and tightening his grip until at least one of her bones threatened to crack — one surely did because she found herself amidst a new wave of pain.

"Don't worry," he reassured mockingly. "I'll give you a chance. Your odds are not looking very good, but I'll give you a chance to make it into a costume of your own rather than as part of Scraps. What you're breathing now is oxygen with a little bit of something special. Something I made... Something," he considered his words, "to make adults run."