Michael Afton x Reader ~ The Boy on The Bus

Chapter Sixteen - Needle and Thread

Michael thought he must've been in hell. The last thing he remembered was that big metal arm of the scooper impaling him. Baby was right, it did hurt. He could feel everything, the piercing of his skin, the remnant being injected. The worst thing, though, was his organs. He saw them when the scooper retracted, a mangled mess of blood and guts dripping from the arm. He felt the burning emptiness of his abdomen, a gaping, giant cut right in the middle of his stomach. He heard the wet snapping of his ribs being broken. He tasted the blood as it filled his mouth and spilled over his lips and out his nose.

He kept waiting, hoping, praying that death would soon take him, but the sweet embrace never came. Every time he felt himself beginning to black out, something would jolt him awake again. He couldn't move, not without making it worse. He couldn't even speak, but he knew that if he was able to make any sort of noise, he would be screaming. He begged whatever god was out there to make it stop, he didn't know how much longer he would be able to withstand the horrible, burning pain.

Suddenly, he felt something else. Baby's words repeated in his head, "If we looked like you, then we could hide." He couldn't get those words out of his head. Something limped towards him, the amalgamation of wires, the familiar mask. He knew it was them.

Somehow, they- Ennard- pushed their way inside of Michael, replacing all of his internal organs with a metal, wiry mess. More blood spilled from Michael's mouth as it was forced out of the way, and the hold in Michael's abdomen burned the worst it ever had. Then, a voice. Scratching at the back of his mind, that all too familiar voice.

"You wont die."

It repeated the words over and over again. He knew that something, or someone, else was there with him in that moment. In his body, in his mind. He felt something else take control of his body as his legs stood on their own and slowly limped their way out of the scooping room and through the facility, back up to Michael's house. Michael's body stood there in the office before giving out again. He fell to the floor and blacked out.

===

You were absolutely fuming. It had happened again, Michael hadn't returned home. You assumed like he said yesterday, he was just working overtime, but it was starting to get late and he hadn't even left a phone call!

You started on dinner, only making yourself something. You decided that if Michael wanted to stay out so late he could make his own dinner. But as the day went on, your anger turned to worry. It was getting later and later and Michael was just gone. Sadly, you didn't have any contact information on this 'Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rentals' place, so you couldn't even call to get a hold of Mike.

Finally, you were starting to get tired, and there was still no sign of Mike. You waited on the couch, watching the front door. But soon, you couldn't stay awake any longer. Your eyelids were too heavy, and your eyes were strained. You decided to call it a night, leaving the living room lamp on for Michael just in case he came home. If he wasn't home in the morning, you were gonna find out where the hell that rental place was and you were gonna find Michael and you were gonna bring him right back home.

===

Michael woke up where he had passed out. He was thankful his body, or the robot inside of his body didn't decide to go anywhere while he was out. The pain in his abdomen had reduced to an amount that was just barely manageable.

Michael groaned as he hoisted himself up and into a sitting position. This simple task took a horrible amount of effort. Michael would've felt sick if he still had a stomach. It seems that moving definitely made the pain ten times worse. He noticed the carpet under him was soaked in blood. Great.

He tried to force himself to stand again and was just barely able to, leaning against the wall for support. He needed to close this gaping hole somehow, but he knew the only kind of stitches he'd be able to give himself would be with a basic needle and thread. He cringed as he limped his way to the kitchen, throwing open the junk drawer, and finding an old sewing kit. He looked at it distastefully, knowing that this was going to be awful.

Michael then limped his way into the bathroom. He hadn't even turned on the lights when he noticed something peculiar about himself in the mirror. His eyes, somehow, had changed into a different color. Instead of the usual sky blue that they always were, they were now a deep purple. He frowned, knowing that he was going to somehow have to explain to you why his eyes were now purple.

He flicked on the lights and sat down on the toilet seat. His wound burned, and he felt faint. He hope that he wouldn't pass out again. He paused for a moment, trying to gain the nerves to look down so he could stitch his stomach up. He slowly lowered his gaze to his abdomen.

His shirt was horribly ripped, which was no surprise, and covered in fresh and old blood. He wondered how long  he was passed out for, but that thought quickly cleared. He stared at his abdomen, trying to process the wide gash and the mangled-up mess of blood and flesh. He could only stare in shock. It didn't feel real, it didn't look real, there was no way any of this was real, right?

He took off his shirt and grabbed the sewing kit, opening it up. He grabbed the first needle and spool of thread he had found, threading the needle sloppily. This process took him at least fifteen minutes since his hands were shaking so horribly and were covered in blood.Finally, the needle was threaded, and he was ready to stitch himself up.

Taking a deep breath, he slid the needle through one flap of skin. The pinch of the needle was definitely nothing compared to the horrible burning of the gaping wound, but he still grimaced. He took a deep breath and kept stitching. He knew that no matter how much it hurt, it had to be done.

Eventually, after at least an hour, he had stitched up his abdomen and it almost looked normal, other than the obvious stitched-up cut and blood everywhere. He threw the bloody needle into the trash before deciding that, even though he was in crippling pain, he should probably shower. He knew that this would fuck up his stomach even more, and didn't even know if this was safe considering that there was a robot inside of him, but he decided to take his chances. He didn't want to have to explain to you why he was completely covered in blood.

Michael proceeded to get in the shower and immediately regretted it. He groaned in pain as the water hit the injury. The pain was almost as intense as when he got his organs ripped out, and he almost blacked out again. But soon, the burning subsided, but that wasn't the end of his troubles. No matter how hard Michael scrubbed, he just couldn't seem to get the blood stains off of his skin.

Eventually, most of the blood had either been washed off or reduced to just a light pink stain. He got out of the shower and wondered if he should ever shower again. He should technically be dead, right? He couldn't feel his heartbeat or a pulse, he couldn't even feel himself breathing. If he was dead, wouldn't water make him just decompose faster? Would he even decompose? He hoped that the remnant would keep him from turning into some freaky zombie man.

He found some old clothes in his old room and threw them on since he needed something that wasn't blood-stained. He knew that he would never be coming back to this house again. He couldn't, not after what had happened. He knew that it didn't matter in the end anyways, as the thing he was most afraid of was literally inside of him. He wished he could just rip the robot out and be done with it, but he knew it wasn't that easy. It was never that easy. He cursed himself for trusting Baby and for trying to help the others.

The pain in his abdomen had now reduced to a horrible aching instead of a piercing burning sensation. Michael was still limping and stumbling. He decided it was finally time to go back to your house. Home. He contemplated excuses for why he was gone and why he was acting so weird on the way there.

When he opened the door, he was relieved to find that you had already gone to sleep. He figured that you would be mad, and decided to stay on the couch instead of risking waking you up by getting into bed. He stared at the wall. He knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.