Redemption's Overrated

14. Snitches Get Stitches

TW: Blood, insanity, violence, derealization, claustrophobia, panic attack, abuse

I'm making the white house bigger than it is on the SMP because that's how an actual government building thing would be. Plus, plot reasons. (Ps this chapter is barely edited, so apologies for any mistakes!)

Also, thank you guys for all the comments and reads and everything! You guys genuinely mean the world to me <3

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The white house is not my favorite place, if I'm being honest. Every time I go there it's for work, and if there's one thing that I dread, it's actually having to do my job. It's not even my fun hitman job, either, it's just boring political sh*t I don't give a f*ck about.

However, the white house is the closest place I could find after a run in with some mobs. I'm not injured too bad, just a large scrape on my arm and a matching one on my forehead. Still, injuries can get awfully nasty if you leave them alone and exposed for too long.

Definitely not speaking from experience. Nope. Not at all.

I walk down the long hallways, trying to remember what room we keep the medical supplies in. I eventually stumble across it and quickly unpack everything I'll need to tend to my wounds. A spike of pain shoots through my head, causing me to press my hand to the scratch. Why do little head injuries always hurt so much?

I pull my hand down, ignoring how it comes away a dark red and continue with getting the supplies ready. Footsteps echo down the hall, signaling someone's approach.

"Hey, do you know where-" The cheerful voice stops suddenly. I turn, coming face to face with Tubbo. His blue eyes are wide and full of fear, his mouth slightly open. He has dark circles under his eyes- understandable, given he's been working nonstop on the festival for nearly a week. 

Why the hell does he look scared for his life? I'm literally just cleaning myself up after a ba- oh.

"Relax, kid, this blood isn't anyone's but mine." 

He relaxes, but not by much. He's still staring at my hands and arm, which are, to be fair, pretty covered in blood.

I take in the sight of the trembling boy in front of me. "You really haven't changed at all since then. Still scared of a little blood."

"Leave," he whispers, his voice shaky.

"No, I don't think I will."

"Please, just go fix your injuries somewhere else, I have things I need to do in here."

Quick as lightning I pull out my newly enchanted sword and point it at him. "You should learn to listen, Tubbo." I tilt my head, taking in the pure fear radiating off of the boy. He nods, the head motion barely distinguishable from the rest of the shaking of his body.

I lower my weapon, watching the boy relax slightly. The moment is so... familiar.

Blood. Blood all over the floor.

Flickers of colors ripple through my vision: black, white, blue, red.

So much red.

I see the familiar body on the floor, hear my own rapid breathing. And something else.

A small sob.

I whip around, my eyes darting around the room. A small figure is visible right outside the window.

More blue. Green. Brown.

No red.

Now that just won't do.