𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝕖𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

Beep...beep...beep.

A ragged breath churned through the lips of the body draped over the hospital bed, barely fogging against the clear plastic ventilator.

Beep...beep...beep.

Blood had stopped weeping from his wounds hours ago, but the bandages wrapped tightly around his throat and abdomen were still wet and cold with blood. He should be dead. In fact, he had been dead for a number of minutes before a first-responder noticed that the murder victim they'd come to collect was still breathing. Slowly and barely, but breathing nonetheless. Just like out of a cheap horror flick he'd seen over the summer. 

But that felt like eons ago now. 

Beep...beep...beep.

The medical equipment rang loud in the empty, white room, but it was barely loud enough to cover the piercing squeal of rusty wheels against the linoleum floor as the nurse wheeled in her daily tray of medications. 

God, he hated her. Always bitching about her lousy boss and shitty coworkers. He couldn't wait until the drugs wore off enough that he could tell her to quit for the sake of everyone at Windsor General Hospital who had the misfortune of working with her.

"Good morning, Mr. Meeks," she greeted before shutting the door behind her. He hated her, yeah, but she still addressed him like a person instead of a sock puppet and he could at least be grateful for that. "Did you sleep alright?"

Her tasteless question was met with a pungent silence.

A medically-induced coma, that's what the doctors called the vegetative state he was in. It gave his body time to heal from all the trauma while his mind was left to wander like a caged lion pacing a cement enclosure. He'd heard enough hospital drama to last him three lifetimes over.

Randy knew he looked worse for wear. He could feel the stinging cuts all across his face and torso, even when he was constantly slipping in and out of consciousness. When they moved him to change his blankets, he felt like he could scream in agony if only he could move a single muscle in his face. It felt like his skin was being ripped apart from the inside, like one of those Chestbursters from Alien.

Christ, how long had it been since he'd seen Alien?

Too long. Way too long.

The nurse, Shelby something, continued to hum to herself as she unloaded her cart of medicine onto his bedside table, pushing aside a few wilted flower vases in the process. Sometimes, when he was really out of it, he could convince himself that it was you humming to him, luring him out of his restless sleep. Sometimes he wished he never woke up just so he could stay there with that foggy image of you. Always just out of reach, but that was fine by him. The hallucinated chase gave him something to do in his depressing awake hours.

"It's a shame about your friend," Shelby tutted. He could only imagine, but he pictured her shaking her head with lips drawn into a thin line. "The doctors told me not to tell you this, but you're bound to overhear something eventually."

Randy's finger twitched against the thin, pale blue blankets that encased his body like mummy wraps. It was the first movement he had attempted in a long time and the gravity of it made him pause and think. What friend? What was he not supposed to know? What was happening outside the world of his hospital bed?

Not noticing the subtle motions of her long-time patient, Shelby shook a bottle of clear liquid and prepped a needle with a saddened sigh. "I don't even know if you understand a word I'm saying."

Fuck you, keep talking.

"Word on the television is that your friend...oh what's her name?"

Her? Oh god.

"(Y/N)! That's it. (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she snapped her fingers as if remembering the answer to a crossword puzzle. "She went missing around the same time the body was discovered in the auditorium, I think."

The heart monitor on the other side of his bed skyrocketed. Tiny green lines jutted out and created deep V-formations on the otherwise blank dark screen that had been beeping softly in the background prior to this moment.

Shelby jerked back in her seat with a gasp and nearly dropped the sterilized needle in her gloved hands. She barely had time to register the sudden change in her patient's heart rate when a dangerously cold hand reached out and made a tight first around her wrist, yanking her toward the bed.

The tiny jar of medication shattered against the floor on impact, but Randy didn't pay it any mind. His senses had tunneled the second he heard your name fall from the nurse's lips.

A spilling sense of vertigo overcame him, like exiting a dizzying rollercoaster that lasted far too long. With his free hand trembling, Randy clawed the ventilator away from his mouth and took a deep breath of fresh, sterilized oxygen through his nose. It felt like years had gone by since he was able to move his limbs or even lungs without artificial assistance.

The stab wounds in his gut strained against the movement, but he refused to lay back down. Shelby's eyes were watering, darting across his face with a look of combined wonder and terror. 

For a horrifying split second, Randy understood the pleasure someone could derive from putting someone in this position before killing them. It was a gruesome, senseless thought, but he understood it. But then he boxed up that thought and shoved it into the back of his perfectly compartmentalized brain. He couldn't go psycho just yet.

"Where..." he growled, vocal cords tense and sore, making his usually matter-of-fact tone simmer into a gritty drawl. 

"W-What?" the nurse blubbered, head shaking to cue that she had no idea what was going on. It was a wonder she hadn't started screaming bloody murder yet. 

Randy groaned in frustration and tugged her closer, eyes flaring with restlessness. He'd been idle for far too long and he wasn't about to slip back into the realm of sleep despite his injured body practically begging him to. He couldn't stomach facing that ghostly image of you in his dreams when he knew that you were in danger in the waking world.

"Where is she?" He tried again.

"W-Who? Where is who?"

Jesus Christ, he was going to pass out again.

Eyes suddenly bleary, he made one final attempt to shake the fog of sleep out of his mind — a task that proved to be nearly impossible. Randy couldn't let himself give out. Not until he knew you were alright. 

"Where is (Y/N)?"

(A/N: SURPRISE!!!! I hope this is good! I'm making massive edits tomorrow, but I wanted to get this out tonight to celebrate! I applied for my dream job and my first interview is tomorrow! I'm super nervous but I wanted to give you guys a reason to be just as excited as I am! More updates on the possible 3rd installment coming soon so just keep an eye out!)