Game Dead (The Pack)

||Impact||

(If you are reading this, (one of my "friends") and you know who you are... stop showing people!) Also, now exams are done, I can finally update cause I'm not busy.mI'm sorry I'm so bad at updating, I'm always busy lately.

Mitch's strength crumbles beneath the pressure Rob forced upon his sword. Forced down onto his back as Rob let out a grunt, forcing all his weight down to the blade. "Rob, snap out of it!!" Mitch grunts, his eyes narrow in tension from the force being exerted.

"Why should I do that if you all let Preston die!?" Rob cries out, his voice harsh and glitchy. Jerome's heart sinks at remembering how much Rob had turned from blaming himself, to blaming others as well.

"Rob, we were all fighting others, Preston was too far for us to get to in time" Jerome explains, sympathy evident in his voice. "We understand your still hurting, but please Rob... Don't cause another death!"

"Are you saying his death was my fault?!" Jerome's heart races at the realization of how poorly worded his last sentence was.

"What? No, it wasn't all your fault. It was all of our faults. We can't loose another team mate, we can't lose anymore of the pack Rob. Please, stop!" he pleads, looking at Mitch with wide eyes in panic. 'What am I doing?" Rob questions himself, his eyes and thoughts for a moment going back to normal.
"Rob... I need you to be ready okay?" Jerome warns warily. "If you want to live, I need you to be ready to be thrown" Rob turns back to Mitch, seeing red horns had sprouted from his hair, black lines cracked from his eyes towards his neck. Mitch's teeth sharpening as he clenches his jaw. He gulps knowing the strength and distance he was about to experience.

"Get... OFF... OF... ME!!" Mitch practically roars. Enough to send adrenaline through Jerome in a fight or flight response. Mitch had disappeared in a blurred flash as he threw his weight up. Robs eyes widened as he found himself flying at a fast speed through the air. Hurtling into the trunk of the tree. Hitting it with enough force to shake the entire tree, sending a shock of pain through his body as he falls from the tree to a branch. The pain overwhelming his once hell bent grip on his sword to release it, watching his sword clatter off the tree to the ground through his in-and-out of blur vision. He tries to push himself up, only to feel a sharp hard object against the back of his neck. He looks forwards to see a pair of dirtied red converses that he knew belonged to Mitch. He knew Mitch had his sword against the back of his neck.
"Don't f****ing move a limb." He growls. Panting heavy breaths.

"Mitch, Mitch I'm sorry okay bud? I'm back, I'm myself. I promise." Mitch doesn't respond. Instead keeping his eyes dead set on Robs every action. Rob allows his arms to collapse under him as his vision fades further into blur and his ears begin to ring. Mitch shoves it closer, a slight trickle of blood weeping down Robs neck.

"What part of don't move a limb don't you understand?!" Rob hears Mitch shout, sounding distant through his blocked feeling ears. He knew Mitch had no sympathy or mercy at this moment.

"Mitch! Stop!" Jerome interrupts.

"I don't trust him! He tried to hurt you!" Mitch snarls in response.

"He's back! Can't you see he's severely injured?!"

"He deserves it, he deserves to join Preston in the dead!"  Rob winces at the reminder. But his body ached and he could no longer move a single limb in retaliation. His breath felt cold and uneasy. Nausea overwhelming as he forcefully, with all him remaining fading strength, turned his head to the side so he wouldn't drown in his own vomit.

"Mitch, he's blacking out!" Jerome's eyes widen as Rob's body went limp looking and his eyes shut. His vision had switched off like a light switch. Blackness and sweet unconsciousness consumed him.