House Mates Au | Mandela Catalogue | {Rewritten}

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Cesar felt his eyes open. He insticinctly reached to clutch his chest in pain. He can't remember anything- why is he in his backyard? Why does his head hurt so bad? He doesn't understand what's going on. But he's able to feel the blood that paints his fingers, and it all comes rushing back to him. In a very painful way of remembering.

It was a cold and quiet night. Cesar was up later than he should've been. He felt like something was watching him, so he gripped his rosary beads tightly, making his way through the dark house. His mother wasn't due to return until 5 am, and as he laid eyes on the clock, it would be 3 hours till then. Cesar turned on the living room lights, knowing that if his mother was home she'd lecture him on wasting electricity, as well as being up this late on a school night. Though as Cesar drifted into thought while standing in his living room, he swore he felt eyes on him. He turned to look around, but he saw nothing. He didn't feel safe. Maybe it was those broadcasts getting to him. Everything is fine, he's overreacting over nothing. Though he'd soon realize as a pair of eyes stared at him from outside the sliding glass door, he was infact not overreacting.

Cesar came to his senses. He realized that his friend Mark is in danger. He doesn't know how he just knew but- he was sure. The alternate that was in Cesar's home, it most likely took the form of him. Cesar felt a rush of adrenaline, searching for anything that could function as a weapon. He had taken up an interest in throwing knives, but his mother had said they were too dangerous. He was really wishing his mom kept them now. But he pushed through and grabbed knives from the kitchen drawer after running inside. Bolting straight out of his house with knives in hand, dead set on rescuing mark. He wouldn't let his friend die to one of those awful things. It's not a natural death.

His dress shoes weren't comfortable to run in at all. It didn't help he doesn't usually run outside of sports. He's not all that.. athletic. His shoes clicked against the hard pavement. His legs burned, crying out in pain from the sudden over use. But Cesar didn't care. Yet now he's questioning his actions of running instead of taking a car to marks house, since its relatively far. He almost contemplates going back to grab it, but he cant waste any more time than he has already. Cesar feels eyes on him, but he can't stop running. He knows that. He feels an overwhelming sense of dread for an unknown reason. The feeling almost causing him to falter and fall. The feeling was like you knew something bad was going to happen, yet there was nothing you could do to stop it. He ignored it and pushed through, and maybe it was just his sleep deprived mind but he saw a bright light behind him. He paid it little mind, maybe he'll think about it later when mark is safe.

Cesar finally reached marks house, out of breath. His legs and lungs on fire. But he couldn't afford to rest yet, not when there's still work to be done. Mark is inside, he knows that. And so is the alternate. As the house came into view, Cesar spotted all the lights were off. Except for a faint dim in marks room, looking like it originated from a TV. Cesar vividly remembers the broadcast informing all to get rid of their televisions due to the unforseen threat. Cesar knows mark would always follow instructions to keep himself safe, so if there's one in his room that's on, could Cesar even save him? He felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. But he brought himself out of it. It's not a matter if he can, it's a matter that he should.

-

"L-l-l-let me in ma-r-r-r-rkkk! I have a gift for you-u-u-u. I have a surprise!" The alternate called out from outside Mark's bedroom door. It's voice similar to Cesar's, yet it's so terribly off. It's wrong. It's unnatural. Mark trembled as he sat in his room, his breathing uneven. A million thoughts racing through his head all at once. None of them helping his situation. ' If there is a god, please save me. ' Mark thought to himself. Mark started weighing his options. God loved him, right? God loves all. That's what's taught in church. God loves you as long as you love him. But- was he a sinner? A sinner undeserving of his saviors warmth or care? The thought that he wasn't worthy shakes him to his very core. He gripped his hair shakily, going back to weighing his options. Maybe- just maybe, if he keeps praying, God will hear him and save him. Maybe the alternate will get tired and leave him alone. And he thought of the second option, his gaze flickering towards his gun.