❛ 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ❜ ━ miguel o'hara

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞

_______

I try to speak, want to speak. But my lips are heavy, clumsy, and the sounds that come from them are everything but coherent. All I can do is push air out, and hope someone can hear my frail whispers.

"What...what did.."
I feel paradoxical ; light and heavy at the same time. And oh, how it hurts. Pain prickling my fingertips and face and skull and feet and stomach and everywhere.

I stare up at the night sky through the gaping hole in the ceiling, ceiling panels and crackling wires hanging precariously.

What happened?

Sirens blare somewhere nearby. Maybe only in my mind, or maybe on the streets growing closer, closer, closer.

Miguel.
Oh, god, is Miguel okay?

I feel my body leave the cold, hard ground as I force myself to sit up. Pain explodes within my throbbing skull like a wildflower in bloom. A groan crawls from the depths of my throat.

Dust and debris covers almost every inch of the floor. My body is coated in a layer of it, along with blood seeping from an injury I can't place nor exactly feel yet.
Miguel lies on the ground 30 feet away. I suck in a deep breath, eyes wide. I examine his body, naturally fearing the worst.

He stirs, coughing and shaking his head as he begins to recover consciousness. I'm so happy he seems to be okay that I could cry.
But, what happened?

All I can seem to remember is not being able to breathe, Goblin's hand wrapped around the column of my throat. Then, a shout from Miguel, and a strange pain in my leg...

My gaze falls on my right thigh.

A small dart sticks out of my flesh, an empty glass vial of some sort attached to the needle. It's simple to put two and two together. Obviously, Miguel did this... but what exactly is it?

"- Angel ..."

My heart stops in my chest. I'm going insane, aren't I?

I turn towards the source of the voice.

A figure lay on the floor.

There's a disgusting amount of blood. The red puddle grows with each second, creeping towards me.
Goblin is as still as a grotesque statue.

The humane part of me is horrified.
The sicker, more vindictive side is disturbingly pleased by my torturer's fate. I completed my mission. Goblin has been neutralized.
Did I do this? Am I capable of doing such a thing?

Then it dawns on me— I'm steps away from discovering Goblin's identity behind the green skin and mocking laughter. He tried to kill you, remember? All with a twisted grin on his face.

The voice calls out to me again. And there's no denying where it originates from.

"...Angel...baby," I hear. He says this. His lips move in sync with the voice of Simone. It's a trick. It has to be. Impostor, Impostor, Impostor.

Sirens blare somewhere nearby. Maybe only in my mind, or maybe on the streets growing closer, closer, closer.
My body moves without thinking. Adrenaline clouds my senses and nerves, and I stumble over to the bleeding Goblin who has somehow stolen the voice of Simone.