Prison of the dead (Labyrinth of Monsters' sequel) A hermitcraft/3rd life fanfic

Chapter 19 - Doc

 TW: Gore and suicide :)

Etho's just died.

Did you really think I'd miss the chance for free angst?

Also: 

Me: writes the first line. 

The little voice in the back of my head: you should draw Etho's death instead :) 

Me: ...

Me: ok! :)

There's blood on the ground as I leave my room the next day. 

Blood. 

Where's it from?

What happened?

Who died?!

It snakes away in a smeared trail away from my door. There are footprints of it, already marking me as the prime suspect. I follow, as slowly as I can, already pulling out a knife from my pocket. The shimmering path glints ahead, and I spot the corpse in the distance.

No.

It can't be. 

Please. 

Please. 

No. 

My pace quickens. There's writing all over the walls. I can't read it immediately, staring horrified at the body. 

The body of Etho.

My friend.

My closest friend. 

He's dead.

Again.

Someone killed him.

He sits in a pool of blood, slumped against the wall, front torn open by a sword, clothes red. Tears blur the vision of my non-mechanical eye. I blink them away, and scream. 

If anyone was still asleep, they're not any more. It's a howl of fury, horror, agonising pain at the sight of my closest friend's corpse. I never got to apologise. I never got to redeem myself for him. He left me, and it was the last thing he ever did. Never. Never again will I hear his laugh, his quick remarks and retorts, his voice. 

He's dead. 

And he's not coming back. 

Or worse. 

If he comes back, he'll hate me. 

And then I read the writing. 

YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF. 

HE DESERVED IT.

MURDERER.

MONSTER. 

NOW YOU'LL KNOW HOW WE FEEL.

SCAR WAS INNOCENT. 

SCOTT WAS INNOCENT. 

IMPULSE WAS INNOCENT. 

YOU'RE NOT INNOCENT. 

THIS IS FOR OUR FRIENDS. 

The phrases repeat over and over across the walls and floor in small writing. But it's not all. It's not the only thing there. Emblazoned right over the corpse is the main message: