"Tainted Reflection" | MDP HORROR FANFICTION

013 & 014; Sin Bound

GORE 
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Duncan wept for nearly an hour until the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to freeze, clutching Ollie more tightly. His body felt cold and lifeless, and his eyes were glazed over as blood from Ollie's injury trickled through Duncan's fingers, a stark reminder of the fragility of life. The world around him blurred into a haze of muted colors and distant sounds, the weight of despair pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. Each sob that escaped his lips was a mixture of grief and disbelief, a raw expression of the turmoil raging within him. Each one a dagger to his heart, reminding him of the vibrant spirit that now lay so still in his arms. The warmth of Ollie's presence was replaced by an icy chill, and Duncan's heart ached with the knowledge that he could do nothing to bring him back. As the footsteps drew nearer, Duncan's breath hitched in his throat, a primal instinct urging him to protect what little remained of his friend. He glanced around, his eyes darting to the shadows that danced in the dim light, searching for the source of the sound. Panic surged through him, mingling with the sorrow that had consumed him. He felt as if he were caught in a nightmare, one from which he could not awaken. The footsteps grew louder, echoing ominously in the silence that enveloped them. Duncan's grip on Ollie tightened, his fingers trembling as he fought against the rising tide of fear. He could feel the warmth of Ollie's blood seeping into his skin, a visceral reminder of the reality they faced. The thought of being discovered, of having to confront the world outside this moment of grief, filled him with dread. He wanted to scream, to shout for help, but the words caught in his throat, choked by the weight of his sorrow. Instead, he pressed his forehead against Ollie's, but there was only silence, and the steady rhythm of his own heart, pounding in his ears like a war drum. The footsteps stopped abruptly, and Duncan's heart raced as he strained to listen. He could hear muffled voices, low and urgent, but they felt like a world away. In that moment, he was trapped in a bubble of grief, isolated from everything. Duncan muttered in frustration, "When will you awaken? You're not deceased!" His voice was a mix of desperation and anger, echoing in the dimly lit alley way. He gripped Ollie's arm tightly, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingers, a stark contrast to the coldness that seemed to envelop the rest of the space. As he supported Ollie's weight, he couldn't help but notice the blood seeping from his side, a dark crimson stain spreading across the fabric of his shirt, a grim reminder of the battle they had just endured. Panic surged through Duncan as he knelt beside his friend, his heart racing. "Come on, Ollie! You have to fight! You can't leave me like this!" He shook him gently, hoping to rouse him from the depths of unconsciousness. The sight of Ollie's pale face, the way his chest barely rose and fell, sent a chill down Duncan's spine. He glanced around the room, searching for anything that could help. The flickering light cast eerie shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of iron and smoke. Time was slipping away, and with it, the hope of saving his friend. "Please, Ollie," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "You can't leave me. Not now. Not after everything we've been through." He could almost see the flicker of life behind Ollie's closed eyelids, a spark that he desperately hoped would ignite into consciousness once more. Ollie's eyes briefly opened, blinking against the harsh light that filtered through the grimy window. His gaze darted around the dimly lit alley way, taking in the peeling wallpaper and the scattered debris that littered the floor. The air was thick with a musty odor, a mix of dampness and decay that clung to the walls like a shroud. As his vision adjusted, it finally settled on Duncan, who stood frozen, his expression a mixture of shock and apprehension. The sight of Duncan sent a jolt of panic through Ollie's veins, and he instinctively recoiled, his heart racing at the thought of potential harm. Memories of their last encounter flooded his mind—shouting, accusations, and the unmistakable threat that had hung in the air like a storm cloud. Ollie's breath quickened, each inhale a struggle as he grasped his side, feeling the sharp pain that radiated from a bruise he had forgotten in the chaos of the moment. He could feel the weight of fear pressing down on him, constricting his chest and making it difficult to draw in a full breath. The alley way seemed to close in around him, the shadows stretching and twisting as if they were alive, eager to consume him. He fought against the rising tide of panic, trying to steady himself, but the sight of Duncan—his former bully turned adversary—made it nearly impossible to think clearly. "Duncan," Ollie managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with both desperation and uncertainty. He could see the hesitation in Duncan's eyes, a flicker of something that resembled regret, but it was quickly overshadowed by the tension that crackled between them. The air was thick with unspoken words, and Ollie knew that whatever happened next could change everything.

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