He Who Controls the Flame (001 fanfic)

Chapter Twenty Two- Blood, Sweat, and... Sexual Tension?

The hallways were covered in blood.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, the lights flickering above me.

What the hell happened?

I walked forward, every muscle in my body tightening up, coiling with tension as I walked through the red-stained halls of Hawkins Lab. It was eerily silent, no laughter coming from any children, no clinking of toys in the red room, no rhythmic tapping of the guns on the guards hips as they walked, surveying the hallways.

There was nothing. Nothing but blood.

I turned a corner and felt my blood run still in my veins. Bodies covered the hall. Guards in uniforms, doctors in their lab coats, children in their hospital gowns. There was no order, no pattern, just seemingly everyone who occupied the lab.

"No," I muttered, walking closer, hot tears dripping down my cheeks. "No, no, no." Now that I was closer, I could see that they weren't just sleeping, no, these people couldn't be anything but dead.

A strangled gasp escaped my throat as I saw what state they all were in. Each body was...was broken. All their limbs were twisted at odd angles, like their bones had been...broken, so brutally and awfully that it left them completely mangled, unrecognizable as people.

But their faces...their faces was where the true evil lay. All their faces were sunken in, and their jaws were unhinged as if someone had broken them, leaving their mouths gaping open like large black holes. Their eyes were open, though they were clouded over, purely white. And...and blood was dripping from them, down their cheeks like crimson tears.

I sobbed, stumbling backwards, only to slip on blood. I fell down, landing in a puddle of it. I screamed as the stuff stuck to me like tar, clinging to my skin and the hospital gown I was wearing. I tried wiping my hands of it, but the stuff stuck to me, getting under my nails, and pooling in my palms.

I wretched, shakily starting to try and stand when something caught my eye. Someone was standing at the end of the hall.

The tension wrapped around my muscles undid itself at once and I felt the weight in my stomach, as if I had eaten rocks, let up.

"Peter," I gasped, getting to my feet. I ran for him, and collided into him, wrapping my arms around his frame. I buried my face against his neck, breathing in his comforting smell of lemons and mint and something just distinctly Peter.

I sobbed against his skin, holding him as tight as I could. "You're okay," I breathed, my tears making his skin slide against mine. "You're okay. Thank God you're okay." When he didn't respond, I felt my brows furrow, and my confusion only grew when I realized he wasn't hugging me back. In fact, he was awfully rigid against me, like stone, and he felt abnormally cold, as if he had been walking around in a blizzard for hours.

"Peter..." I pulled away from him and sucked in a breath.

It hadn't been tears that made his skin slippery but...but blood.

Peter was covered in blood.

I inched away from him slowly, feeling my heart start to pound against my collarbone.

His face was speckled with dots of crimson, and his shirt collar too. And his hands...god his hands were entirely stained, as if he had on a pair of scarlett gloves.

"Peter," I breathed. "What happened?" I wanted to pull away from him but it was then that his arm looped around my waist, pinning me to him. I felt a sharp stab of shock pierce me and I struggled against him, my breath scraping against my throat, leaving me in short, panicked bursts.