𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

ʕ'•ᴥ•'ʔ 

TW: screaming, killing, read with caution. 

 https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4FMOBw7eopNczgfzspCvIP?si=4ece1d66f3774da7 

"Please, no, I beg you!"

I dashed through the dimly lit hallways, my heart racing as the menacing figure of the purple-clad man pursued me relentlessly. The haunted house, my temporary abode, twisted into a labyrinth of terror. Its ancient walls groaned under the strain, echoing the sinister creaks that filled the air. Each heavy footstep of my pursuer seemed to press down upon the very soul of the structure. Gasping for breath, I navigated the narrow passageways, the stench of mold and decay assaulting my senses, all while desperately trying to escape the murderous intent of the man in purple.

"Emerging from the shadows, I'm aware of your hiding place, Lela. There's no use in concealment."

Racing through the labyrinthine corridors, a piercing ache radiated from my soles, escalating into a relentless throb with every frenzied footfall. Desperation clawed at my mind, urging me to hinder my pursuer's advance. I flung various items behind me—a scattering of papers, a toppled chair, a clattering vase—anything to slow him down. Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I caught sight of the man in the purple garb. His gait was unnaturally swift, bearing down on me with the velocity of a seasoned sprinter, his every movement an eerie blend of grace and menace.

"Keep your distance!" I screamed, my voice laced with fear.

My heart pounded against my chest as I sprinted with every ounce of strength I possessed. Abruptly, my muscles seized in a crippling cramp, forcing me to a jarring halt. Whirling around, I came face to face with my pursuer – a man shrouded in a sinister purple aura. His grip was inches away from my ankle, but with a swift motion born of desperation, I struck his face with my foot. The impact sent him reeling, and I seized the opportunity to rise and bolt into the shadows once more.

"Ow, that hurts, Lela! You're going to regret that!" he howled, nursing his bruised visage as he resumed his pursuit, a vindictive edge to his voice.

I gasped for air, my lungs burning with the exertion. "I'm not as defenseless as you think," I muttered under my breath, a fierce determination propelling me forward.

Even as my breath grew ragged and my pace faltered, the thought of my friends, their faces etched with concern, spurred me on. With the last of my waning energy, I spotted an old barn nestled in the distance. Summoning a final burst of willpower, I darted towards its welcoming shadow. Inside, I navigated through the maze of hay and farm equipment to a secluded corner, a perfect hideaway where he would surely fail to discover me. Here, in the musty silence, I waited, hoping against hope that I had evaded the violet menace once and for all.

Determination coursed through my veins as I silently vowed to myself, "I need to press forward, I have to reunite with my friends. Death isn't an option I'm willing to entertain."

The eerie stillness of the place wrapped around me like a thick fog as I huddled down, drawing my knees close to my chest for a semblance of safety. The faint sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence, and my heart pounded with the realization—it was the purple-clad menace.

His voice slithered through the air, coated in malice, "Lela... are you skulking around here? Your petrified little face—it's such a delicious turn-on for me..."

A wave of revulsion surged within me, "Fucking degenerate," I raged internally.

Scanning my dim surroundings, my eyes latched onto the salvation of a rusted shovel lying neglected by my side. With a surge of adrenaline, I seized it, the cold metal feeling oddly reassuring in my grip. Rising to my feet, I edged backward, inch by inch, ensuring each movement was silent as death, to evade his predatory search.

Stalking him with the stealth of a panther, I closed in. Then, with all the fury and desperation of a cornered animal, I swung the shovel with a vicious arc, connecting with a satisfying thud against his form. Without a moment's hesitation, I bolted, the barn's oppressive confines giving way to the openness of the night.

As I burst into the freedom of the outside world, gasping for air, my friends emerged like specters from the darkness, their appearance a startling contrast to the nightmare I had just escaped.

"Did you long for our return?" I exclaimed, my heart brimming with joy.

I dashed toward them, and in that fleeting moment of reunion, a sharp pain seared through my back. Crimson blossomed across my shirt—I had been pierced by the knife's betrayal.

"Lela!" The urgency in their voices was unmistakable.

"Be brave, Ophelia...please, go with the others," I urged, my voice barely a whisper.

For the first time, I witnessed Ophelia's tears carving tracks down her cheeks. Her emerald eyes, usually so full of life, now reflected a haunting despair that tore at my soul. Would these be the last moments her gaze met mine? The blood spilled from me in waves, its relentless rhythm threatening to pull me under.

"Are you truly certain?" Ophelia's voice trembled, her eyes awash with a sea of grief.

"No, I can't bear the thought of my story ending in this grim alley..." My words were laced with desperation as I clung to her, seeking solace in her embrace. I turned away from Ophelia's sorrowful face, casting my gaze upon our circle of friends. Each pair of eyes mirrored the heartache of the moment. Yet, there was an ethereal grace to Sage's tears, a beauty that shimmered amidst the pain.

Then, he emerged from the shadows—the man whose dark intent had cast this nightmarish spell upon us all, the purple-clad harbinger of our doom.

An unforeseen mishap had occurred, a clumsy blunder that sent a chilling wave through the room. "Oopsie, I made a spill and now all of you will succumb to a grim fate," the sinister voice of the Purple Guy echoed ominously, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

But before the dread could fully sink in, an unexpected voice sliced through the tension. "Well not so fast, Purple Guy—or should I say, Charles?" It was a voice that commanded attention, rich with confidence and shrouded in mystery.

Heads turned in unison, eyes wide with surprise. There, standing with an aura of cool defiance, was a shadowy figure. Cloaked in a long, dark trench coat that fluttered at the edges, with a brimmed hat casting a veil over their eyes, they exuded an air of enigma and authority.

"Hey, what's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" The figure's taunt was playful yet edged with steel, breaking the silence and setting hearts racing with a surge of hope.

Recognition dawned on me in an instant, and I felt a surge of relief so intense it was almost palpable. We were not alone in this perilous moment; salvation had arrived in the most unexpected form.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, awe and disbelief intermingling within.

"Saving your behind, what does it look like?" The retort was quick and laced with a wry humor that belied the gravity of the situation. This was no ordinary friend; this was someone who could tilt the scales in our favor.

"Alright, I hate to break up this little reunion you've got going on, but I have obligations to fulfill—it's time to end this," the Purple Guy snarled with renewed malice, clearly intent on carrying out his dark intentions.

But in that pivotal moment, everything changed. The mysterious stranger stepped forward, the faint light glinting off something concealed within their coat. The air crackled with anticipation, the promise of a confrontation that would alter the course of our fates forever..