𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 // 𝑀𝐻

fifteen

now playing..

"Carry Us Home"
-Weathers

October 2nd, 2002
11:23pm

      A sudden knock to your window was unusual in itself, but the figures of Brian and Tim on your balcony ushering you to follow them out definitely scaled it up.

       The darkened clouds are aligned across the night sky in ragged uniform. The moon lights just the very edge of the clouds, making the abyss seem like a devastating crack in a black, star-lit wall.

      The leaves in the oak trees are just a silhouette against the light line, wavering ever so slightly to where you don't really know whether the trees are moving at all. The air is completely silent. Silent, except for the bats. The creatures who thrived by day are now fast asleep in their nests and dens, and all that can be heard is the subtle flapping of leathery wings in the brisk, night air.

    You definitely didn't expect to be running from the cops tonight, but you made do. Your legs ran as fast as they could carry you, Tim and Brian beside you, their larger frames lagging behind a smidge.

   You dove over a fallen log down a short cliff, rolling onto your side. You stumbled behind the hill, hiding yourself whilst watching out. The two guys followed shortly, their breathing heavy and unsteady.

   The shine of flashlights reflected off the trees, acting as an indicator of where the officers were. The three of you had been messing around at an abandoned building, though you got caught trespassing.

    "These cops sure have a fuckin' hard-on for us to not let us off the hook—" Tim desperately sucked in more air, catching his breath. "—during the first mile we ran."

      Brian snickered, peering over the hill, though quickly returning back to his original position. "I need a cigarette." Tim half-joked, watching for flashlights.

   You glanced down to Brian's fumbling hands, a smile appearing on your face as you noticed his multicolored bracelet strung around his wrist—your name spelled out on the small circles.

   Brian noticed your smile before lifting your wrist up with the matching bracelet.

  Tim scoffed. "Oh my god—you actually used that bracelet kit?" He laughed, peering over my shoulder to get a better look. "Holy shit, you're ass at making them."

  "I'd like to see you do better." Brian chuckled, his yellow hoodie sleeve lifted up ever-so-slightly. His arms were covered in scars—though you're unable to tell what the cause of them is. You didn't dare to ask, mainly because it could be considered rude.

    "I think we're clear."

  "Alright." You stood up, Brian gripping your hand to hoist himself up. His body leaned onto yours for support for a moment before he quickly balanced himself.

   "Alright, lets go." Tim waved you over. You glanced around for a second more before following them to get back to the road.

January 29th, 2010
9:34pm

"This place is so unbearably creepy."

   Your flashlight beam roamed the trashed house, the bits and pieces of paper and trash littered the floor. The furniture appeared torn, worn from years. It carried countless memories, the fabric holding on by a thread.

     Your eyes roamed the building, your hands gliding over the marble countertops of the kitchen to get a bearing of the unseen territory.

    You noted pill bottles scattered around along with scribbled drawings, the same symbol appearing over and over.

And over. And over.

You picked up a pill bottle, but the label was ripped off of the orange plastic. Setting it back on the marble counter, you aimed your flashlight beam elsewhere.

    The house felt stuffed, despite it being extremely cold outside in the January air.

"You find anything yet?" Your voice rang out through the house, though with no echo of a response. "Jay?"

Your flashlight beam shook as your anxiety shot up, eating you alive as you look for your male counterpart. "Jay, stop fucking with m—"

Screaming. Screaming of bloody murder. A scream filled with so much pure agony and fear. It shook—sounding strained and hoarse.

"Jay!" Your footsteps accompanied the screaming, feet scraping against the wooden floors to Jay's general direction.

Then you heard it.

You felt it.

Your clothed knees made contact with the floor as pins and needles pricked your skin at such an alarming rate that it stopped feeling like needles.

Heart pounding. Eyes swing from side to side and fall in and out of focus. Hands scramble to feel and to occupy their existence so to feel some importance—a desperate attempt to climb out of pure dissociation.

Mouth closed with teeth clenched forcing a barrier to not allow any screams through. Breaths are restrained—only an after thought done only when the tightness in your chest feels like ropes tightening around you forcing lips to part only slightly enough to allow bare none through.

Mind racing in delusion—contemplating death like another chore to carry out that must be done the last on list that you continually put off because you continually cannot decide how to get it done but forever knowing always remembering you will eventually have to finish it.

You screamed. And you screamed. And you screamed. The sound tore your throat, tore through your eardrums, falling to shreds inside your ear. Your vocal cords strained, tearing themselves to atoms.

Something so painful, yet nondestructive, waved over you. It felt like being torn limb by limb, like having every bone individually broken, every muscle compressed—like being melted alive.

It stood there.

Taunting me.