the void;;fear street.

the aftermath||ryan.

"they got another one."
"he looks so young, too.."
"we have younger."
indistinct voices, things ryan could barely hear or make out, made him stir in his sleep. was this sleep? well, he wasn't awake, that was for sure.

"welcome to the family." it was that sad, almost solemn voice that caused ryan's eyes to finally crack open. his vision was blurred, he saw specks of red, though that was fixed with a simple brush of his hand.
the boy sat up. he was confused and he didn't know where he was- the last thing he remembered was getting off of work and talking to heather. offering her a ride home (though it was more of her demanding one), and now... now he was here.

but where exactly was "here"? he wasn't at the mall anymore, hell, was this place even in shadyside? it was just... darkness. darkness, but he could see just fine! aside from the red specks that kept falling in his eyes and the fact that he had to keep closing them every now and then. his head hurt.
"the headache doesn't go away." it was a new voice speaking now, no longer the sad one he had heard earlier and refused to respond to. this voice was muffled and deep. "it hasn't for me."
as soon as he looked up, ryan felt smaller than he ever had before, because holy fuck this guy was tall. taller than him, at the very least. it also, upon looking up, became quickly apparent as to why the words were muffled. through blurry and red vision, ryan was able to make out a mask on the man's face. a sack, actually, made of burlap and... almost sunken in. he seemed so familiar, yet the newer killer couldn't quite place it.

"you were... shot." there was that sad, solemn voice again, startling him nearly out of his skin. it was pointing out a fact that, now that ryan thought about it, was quite obvious; it explained the pain. he looked around, trying to find the source of that voice, and he finally stood up to do so, and it was when he stood that he had to close his eyes and sit once again. it wasn't from pain, instead from the fact that he could no longer see straight, flashes of red and screams flooding his ears.
ryan wanted to scream, cry- anything to get the noises to stop because it hurt and it sounded way too familiar for his liking, but as quickly as it started, it was done.
"are you... alright?" the sad voice asked. instead of answering verbally, he shook his head.
"who are you?" it was a question he felt stupid asking, mainly because he couldn't even see who he was talking to. the man with the burlap sack was gone; ryan didn't know where he went and honestly? he didn't care. he wanted to leave.
that feeling of wanting to go home was only further solidified when the voice rang out again, this time with a body attached. this was a face he recognized, thanks to the distinct lack of eyes on this man.

"you may know me as cyrus miller, the pastor. welcome to the family, ryan."