homesick | sal fisher x fem!reader ;; ❞

𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐓 .33

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╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : ❞
Description mentions of :
Violence ,
Death ,
Cannibalism ,
& Canon events/Spoilers .

Please note; This chapter is descriptive.
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Sal didn't sleep that night. Actually, come to recollect, no one had.

Beside him, for once, lying sideways on his dipping mattress & having not haphazardly thrown himself atop of messied covers, Larry lay awake, wholeheartedly petrified by the indication of their ventures.

A mask of fragmented strut stilled, laying dormat atop his marred face as Sal too, intently stare at the four-walled room - or rather, the ceiling.

Neither spoke, wordlessly treading into the Johnson's lone apartment to reconcile the horrid scenes of graphic violence they'd had witnessed.

Lisa, ever so perspective, had inquired of their subdued states and in which, lead to an argument between mother & son. ' -god, was Sal exhausted..'

Displays of pulpits gore, all strung to resemble that of decoration lingered in his cranium, each mutilated facial structure of remains somehow coherencing a multitude of horror in his 'mundane' imagination.

Instinctively, Sal shuttered, a small gasp splitting the scar tissue of his lips as Larry, albeit quietly, had asked, "..so, it's not just me - ?"

A grimace was smothered beneath his fractured prosthetic, his visible eye narrowing in repulsion. "Lar, I can't sleep, I feel so.."

Sounds of rustling was heard above, indication Larry had maneuvered his body weight to properly face the bluenette. "..'dirty'?" Larry concluded, more uncertain as he too, had found the scene putrid. Sal, embedded to lay dully in his cascade of blankets & cushions, nodded in affirmation.

"..No one is going to believe us, Sal." - Larry mumbled, disdain evident in his accented voice as he shuffled to face the poster-ridden coverage of his wall. "This is so fucked up, man.."

- Mrs. Packerton, a cannibal; a murderer. The teacher, known for her passion of mathematics, an active cultist as the trio uncovered her true intentions. Todd had intensely observed the outer perimeter as Sal, Larry and Ashley (albeit, uninvited) all sought out the inner workings of the 1st floor apartment.

' Disgusting.' - Trash littered the floorplan on the household, roaches scurrying atop counter-tops as the stench of rot lingered in the atmosphere. It reeked of death, of vomit as the gearboy Sal acquired raptured with activity. In actuality, as curious as Sal had been, he was repulsed by the state of the apartment.

Sal has had his fair share of untimely depressive episodes, often rotting in the confinements of his bedroom - but this?

- ' It was unliveable!' Larry refused to touch anything, which, Sal hadn't blamed him for.

Doors of the property were locked, bolted shut by custom dial locks as if worried of keeping it's acquirements within, rather than fearful of other's intruding. - It was to ensure whatever was in there, stayed in there. It left Sal nauseous.

With the instances of the gearboy's qualities; Sal had managed to bypass the locking's complex coding, cautiously scoping out the dull bedroom as his singular eye widened in startlement.

" ..Mr. Packerton?" Larry murmured, shell-shocked as Sal glanced at his taller companion, perplexed as to how Larry knew this dying man. ' Then again,' Sal recollected, ' He's been here far longer than me..'

- It was likely Larry was acquainted with the husband, or what remained, anyways..

Instantaneously, the mechanics of the machine Sal held flew off, buzzing to life as Sal internally sighed, mentally exhausted of the day's events. - " Mr. Packerton, are you there?"

In a way, it'd haunt Sal for years to come. Far longer than Mrs. Sanderson, as it's circumstances proved twisted as it was cruel. - The weak, aging man begged the bluenette for death. He'd had pleaded, his array of spirit weeping as if still morally conscious amoung the land of the living.

- Sal obliged, without complaint.

By this point, Ashley had joined their masquerade, frightening them as she offered her assistance. - Sal had, of course, asked of your absence. To which, Ashley replied, " I took her home, she's safe."

Relieved was an understatement, Sal was beyond thankful. - He'd had never mentioned of 'Addison's Apartments' twisted events, fearful you'd flee and reasonable so. Even so, that relief plummeted when they'd had successfully wedged open the 2nd bedroom door, expectant of an empty shred of loneliness amongst the elder woman.

- Larry spewed the inhabitants of his stomach across the floor, a mixture of horror and disgust evident among his face as Ashley stilled, her jaded irises portraying a repulsive unease as her deathly pale hands raised, tightly having embraced her forearms and torso in that of a hug.

Understandably, Mahogany irises glazed with sorrow, tear ducts welding as Larry eyed the facial monstrosity hung lowly against the molding wall. In the meantime, Sal had begun deciphering the code atop the box-freezer's lid, his haste urgent as he grew weary of residing in the apartment longer than necessary.

Disgust, rage - gagging ensued, repulsion tightening it's horrid grasp on Sal as, intently, he stared at the littered mess within the box-freezer's wide, containing space.

Ashley had slumped over, peering in curiosity as an expression of terror overswept her face - disbelief plausible as Larry soon joined, swallowing down the bile that threatened to stain the matted carpets beneath their trembling feet.

" ...It's just meat."

Larry choked a pitiful sob, shaking his head in sporadic, hetic motions of denial. " Dude, don't- don't even go there. Stop."

Bewildered, Ashley glanced at the bluenett; beyond lost. " ..What's that supposed to mean-"

" It's just meat." Sal reiterated, firmly as his pale, dexterous hands shook in viscous putrid. " There is no bones."

This was what resided in the complex, in their home? - A disgusting, mutilated mess of guts and drained skin..?

Everyday, Sal had passed by this door; To school, grocery shopping - bare necessities. Hell, He'd passed by this door the night of his first kiss, unsuspecting as he led you to tread past it's repulsive existence, too. He wanted to vomit.

To scream, thrash - curse his mere lifespan. This was a wake up call.

For a moment, blissful & innocent; Sal had truly pictured his chances with the girl of his admiration, you. It seemed reachable, manageable.

Yet - so close and so, so far.

Horrid, sickening displays follow his every waking moment; to his background, the crimes he's bared witness to - Even down to his own putrid, marred face.

Slowly, Sal had stepped back in alarm - cautiously establishing distance between himself and the lone, cold freezer. It wasn't just you. His family lived here, unaware of the depth of these inhumane acts!

" We need to go." Sal muttered, his voice a mere whisper - the familiar tang of his accent diminished as Ashley & Larry turnt to peer at him; confused & scared. " Now. We need to go now."

Without complaint, Larry & Ashley obliged - following closely behind. Be it towards an exit, or down a dark, narrow trash chute that reeked the stench of death in it's twisted, cold interior of past failure and breath.

└─── °∘☆∘° ───┘