Afraid of the Dark

Ç̴hap̷t̵ė̴r T̷h̵i̷ř̵t̴ëę̶n

One down.

One. Down.

The words seemed to burn through Wade's eyes as he stared at the phone, the sound of Bob's scream echoing through his head. Mark's phone screen started to warp, sections of it shifting to black with flickering lights, dazzling pixels which flashed bright green sporadically appearing at shortening intervals. Like an infection, it spread across the whole display, seeping its poison into everything that it touched. The phone's speaker crackled and sparks shot out of the charging port. If it wasn't for the fact that Mark was already dropping the phone, his hand would have been covered in burn marks as the battery exploded. Shattered fragments of the phone screen scattered across the floor, as the display catastrophically malfunctioned to leave it showing nothing but the unwelcoming yet familiar sight of white noise. It was exactly like what had happened with the woman back at the Brighton Pride parades, expect this time, it was much more violent.

Mark stared at his hand in horror, almost being able to picture the injury which he could have just sustained. As the screen went dark, the room went bright. All of the main lights emitted what started as a dim glow, but it quickly grew in intensity so that they illuminated the entire room. Although it was reliving to not be relying on the light of their torches, no one said anything in celebration. The only sound in the room was the three men's shallow inhales and exhales, a horrific dread filling their stomachs. No one knew how much time had passed when the solemn stillness within the Hangout ended. However, it wasn't broken by words. It was broken by the sound of movement.

Mark ever so slowly turned on his ECS Phone, struggling to keep his hands from shaking as he did so. He opened up the group chat, and the message which awaited him only added to the growing feeling of hopelessness. Wade saw his younger friend's face fall, his eyes closing tightly as he took a deep breath. Mark then threw the phone across the room and watched it smash into one of the benches. Confused as to why his younger friend had had this reaction, but not feeling ready to say any words, Wade took a look at his ECS and saw the same message which Mark had.

"System Moderation: The ECS Chat has been disabled by an administrator."

He felt his heart skip a beat as he said the words inside of his head, the realisation of how utterly alone they really were starting to set in. He looked back down at PJ, seeing how slight his chest movements were, listening to how weak his breathing had become. The bloody gash had started to clot and congeal so that it wasn't gushing with red anymore, but the new light in the room somehow made it seem worse. The older American man could have sworn that he could see the smooth surface bone, but he didn't dare to take a closer look. Not knowing how to help that specific problem, Wade decided to try and put PJ into the recovery position, an act which he had learnt how to do thanks to one of his family members who worked in the medical field.

Mark watched in silence, a wave of emotions running through his veins as he stared down at the state of what was an innocent man, now fighting for his life. He felt sadness. Greif. Loss. Pain. Regret. But most prominently, even though it wasn't a feeling which was important at this point in time, he could feel anger. A lot of anger. He was angry that this had happened. Angry that he didn't know what to do. He was angry at Seán, angry that he hadn't said anything until a few days ago, angry that he never explained how bad things had become, angry that he had forced Mark to promise not to tell anyone. He was angry that he couldn't do anything to help. He quickly tried to bury the feelings of rage; now was no time to become irrational. Now was no time to start throwing the blame.

"Should one of us go and find help at the NEC entrances? They said that there were medics there," Wade suggested.

"And leave each other alone?" Mark asked.