The Clementine Family Needs To Be Banned From Every Establishment

Night terror

Tw// death, tics, panic attack, gore

Jackson's sweaty hands tightened around the chain of the SCP, an amulet with an unknown anomaly. His breathing picked up as he heard the blaring sirens bust through his ears. The blinding red lights flashed horribly into his eyes, taking away his sight every couple of seconds.

That uncomfortable feeling returned to his elbows, he despised it. He hated the dreadful whatever it was trying to rip itself out of him. The horrible feeling of energy being trapped inside, under his skin.

A sudden crash boomed from the other side of the hall forcing his attention to it. Due to the lights the junior researcher couldn't make out what the possible threat could be. It's not like it mattered, his feet couldn't move anyway.

Wasn't it the point as to how he got here in the first place? To be in charge of something so unknown for what he did to his own younger brother. Was this not punishment? Was this not retribution?

He felt the presence of whoever caused the breach in front of him. By the time he realized it was Able, a blade was already halfway through him, and sliced him into three.

He was certain that his arm didn't make it to the ground first. He could hear its disgusting squelch even through his headache.

His eyes met Ables', just for a moment. The dark haired anomaly spoke to him, but all that he could hear was a screeching nothingness. The SCP then left him to die on this own.

The blood pooling around the young man's body was nothing compared to the crimson red filling one of his lungs, and leaking out of his mouth. He hacked and coughed hopelessly, just desperate to get air. His mind racing, trying to convince himself that he will be ok, even if he dies.

His eyes flickered to the amulet. It had changed since he had later down. Instead of spiralling silver attached to a ruby it was now golden hills attached to an amethyst.

He then realized he was looking at his own corpse.

Jack flew out of bed. His blankets tripping him as he attempted to sprint to the floor. He heaved, trying not to think of the burning sensation that slid all around the ouroboros looking scar on his torso. He just needed air.

He sat on his shins, his hands shakingly wrapped around 963. It was still there, and he was forced to be alive. He wasn't even sure what happened, or why he suddenly felt terrified.

He slowly brought his hand to the thin framed glasses on the bedside table. He gazed around the room, now able to see more than a couple feet in front of him.

Everything was so overwhelming. The room felt so disorganized and messy despite him just cleaning it that morning. It was disgusting, he could almost sense the grime that built up all day.

His dizzy head forced his wobbly legs to move. Each heavy step seemed to make the tears welling up in his eyes worse. He slowly made his way to his office, the dam breaking as he entered it. He wanted to shiver up in a ball, and let his world shatter around him. He desperately needed to get to the black plastic phone that sat on his wall. He struggled to get to the other side of the room.

His shaking hand hesitantly clasped around the handle of the phone. 'What if he's asleep?' He looked back through the door to his bed room. Through the tears he was able to see, on the side table, a little digital clock showing "2300" in red. The site detector had only gotten three hours of sleep. 'He's probably asleep. He'll hate me if I call him...'

He tried to get his breathing under of control, while he wiped his liquid fears dripping out of his eyes. It only accomplished getting the sleeve of his wool sweater wet with saliva and tears. The dampness only made him more uncomfortable. His fist began repeatedly banging on the top of his head.

In between the knocking and flinching he managed to press the buttons, holding the phone against his ear. The ringing was loud, too much. Too much. Too much!

"Hello?" A voice finally responded to the voices in his head. It was tired, worn from a day of work. It was deep, and reassuring. It made the ginger feel more grounded to reality. "He-he-hello, it-it's Jac-k." He said through his flinching. "I know. Are... you ok? You sound like you're crying?" Worry was wrapped around his words, overtaking the tiredness that was heard previously. Whatever was still in Jack finally snapped.

He curled to the floor, and pressed his forehead against the wall. He sobbed loudly into the phone, feeling the grossness of snot dripping out off his nose. Adding to the ever growing list of icky things bugging Clementine.

"I'M NOT! I'M NOT! I DON'T KNOW WHY!" He wailed uncontrollably. Everything had to come out right this moment. On the other end of the line he could hear the bed springs shifting. The man had sat up. "What happened?" "I-I don't know! I woke up scared! I don't know! I can't think of anything else!" He panted. "Sounds like you had a night terror." Jacks racing heart finally started to slow, but the tears still marched down his cheeks.

After a few more seconds of pitiful sniffles, the voice answered again. "Do you... want me to stay on the phone with you?..." He asked. "If-if you want..." "That's not what I asked. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?" "I would, Mik-Mikell." He mumbled with a nodded as if his brother could see him. "I'm here for ya. You know that, right? I'll never be annoyed when you need me." "I know." The younger Clementine whimpered. The world no longer melting around him, instead slowly turning back in place, he would still have to clean in the morning.

"How's that lizard of yours? Still kicking?" Mikell asked awkwardly, trying to distract the distressed man. "Harold? Yeah he's ok. He just finished shedding not t-too long ago." His voice was still shaking, but the tears were no longer fighting their way out of him. "Harold, right! That was the name! It's a gecko right?" "He i-i-is a garg-oyle ge-ge-gecko, y-yes." He stumbled over his words, then groaned in frustration of not being able to talk how he wanted.

"It was a bad dream, Jackson. It can't hurt you. You're ok." He could hear Mikell pacing, something his brother did when nervous. "I... I know... I'm ok... I'm sorry that I-I woke you up." Jack could feel cooling air. He rested his back against the wall and looked out his office window, watching the wind gently guide the tree branches without detection. "Don't be sorry. I just told ya; I'm here for ya." His body had stilled, the only thing moving was his knuckles beating against his head, but he could live with that. "I'm still sorry about it. I can't help i-it." His voice was low and small. "I guess that's alright, do you feel better now?" "Ye-yeah," he sat on the couch under the phone, "I think... I think I'll be ok on my own..." "You sure? I'll be on the phone as long as you need me." He could tell his older brother was still worried for him. "I'm certain." Jack confirmed, bringing his knees to his chest. "Ok. I'll call ya around your noon tomorrow, to make sure you're still ight. You can call me if you need me." "I know I can. I just did." He smiled when he heard his brother chuckle. "You promise me you're ok." Mikells voice was a lot happier, less frightened for him. It made Jack feel a lot better. "Yes, I promise." He affirmed. "Ok, I'll call ya tomorrow. Good night, little buddy." "Goodnight, Mikell."

Jack placed the phone back in position, then curled up back on his couch waiting for the build up in his wrist to dissipate so he could start reorganizing his office. He was well aware he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, but at least right now he would be ok.