Flowers [A TMF FanFiction]

Chapter 9

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GORE, THERE WILL BE A WARNING OF WHEN IT STARTS AND WHEN IT ENDS. IF YOU DO NOT READ THAT PART, THERE WILL BE A BRIEF SUMMARY OF WHAT HAPPENED AT THE END OF THE GORE SCENE.

[TUESDAY, DREW]

"Was that alright?"

Drew finally asked, after he played the violin. Everyone in the room was silent until Hailey had answered him.

"Yeah.. That was...really good. I might need some time to process this."

"Okay then...Should I leave you be now?"

"Yeah...I'll tell you if you're able to join at our lunchtime rehearsals."

"Goodbye then."

He blankly walked out of the room, his shoulders suddenly seemed so much lighter than earlier. He let out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding in, and silently hoped that he would be able to join the club.

.

.

.

[TUESDAY, LUNCHTIME]

[TIME BEFORE DEATH: 9 MINUTES]

Drew walks towards the club room, he kept his calm demeanour, but was secretly shaking in his boots. He walked into the club room, and saw everyone already there. Except Jake. Still late as usual...

"Good afternoon."

"Oh. I didn't expect you to come back here."

"Thank you, Alexander. It's nice of you to think of me as someone would would waste your time right now."

"Oh shut up."

Zander rolled his eyes at him, and Hailey chimed in pretty quickly.

"Getting along well, I see..."

"Hello, Hailey."

"Hello to you too...So, we've had a quick little talk after you left and we decided that you..."

.

.

.

[OBJECTIVE COMPLETED!]

[TIME BEFORE DEATH: 7 MINUTES]

.

.

.

"...can join the club. As much as I don't like you, I believe in second chances... Even after what happened with Jake."

A small smile found its way onto Drew's face. He could feel his throat burning.

He has to leave.

He has to leave.

Leave.

Leave.

Leave.

Get 

out

of 

the

room.

They don't need to see it.

You've hurt them enough.

You can't defy your own fate, Drew.

It's either let those flowers out,

Or it's letting itself out.

.

.

.

{GORE STARTS HERE, SKIP IF NEEDED}

[T1ME BÈFØRE DEÄTH(?): 2 MĮNUTËŚ]

His throat stopped itching, but there was a terrible pain coming from his lungs.

Suddenly he felt himself gasping for air, as he desperately ran out of the room. He coughed violently, yet nothing came up. He screamed in pain as he felt internal pain through him. He yelled as his body was being penetrated by vines with beautiful flowers littered on him. They wrapped around his neck, as he hopelessly gasped for air. He fell to the ground, and he heard the music club's footsteps, moving towards him quickly. He let out a choked sob, which was a result from trying to tell them to leave. Everything was so fucking painful. It was so gruesome. He yells in anguish as the vine slowly moved up from his neck, and digging into his eye socket.He couldn't tell if tears or blood was running from his eyes, but whatever it was, it hurt and stung so fucking much...

He felt his eyelids become heavy, and staying awake was starting to get difficult. His voice was hoarse from all his yelling, yet no matter how much it hurt, he couldn't scream or yell anymore.His vision was blurring, and the only thing he could see were blurry figures that he couldn't comprehend. He lets out one last cry as the vines pierce through him from the inside, coming out from his lungs, and stabbing into his stomach like a needle. He felt dizzy. 

"I'm 

so

tired."

{GORE ENDS HERE, SUMMARY BELOW}

SUMMARY: He ran out of the club room while he was gasping for air. The vines grow out of his body, piercing his body from the inside out. The music club follows him outside, in which saw him dying from the blood loss the vines caused him. He exclaims that he is tired.

.

.

.

Maybe you should just...

Try again...

Tomorrow.

.

.

.

A tomorrow that might exist.

A tomorrow that will never end.

A tomorrow that will exist and grow.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Forever.

.

.

.

[TÛÉŠDÆŶ¿¡?,▮▮▮▮?¿]

.

.

.

Ŵåß ThÀT Ã dRĒäm¿

BûT ÌT fËŁT sØ rĘÀł.,...

.

.

.

"Is the world being corrupt..?"

"Don't worry, Jake. It's normal for it to corrupt itself when you force it through a ▮▮msa▮a. It needs time to get used to it. Our efforts won't be vain. It's like we're playing him like a game. .

.

.

.

How amusing."