DEATH STAINED LEAVES (Creepypasta AU)

"He's Alright"

You kept walking, each step making your feet feel like they were on fire. The sun had fully risen, it was hidden behind thick clouds, and now a light rain had begun to fall.

With a sigh, you tugged the hood of Jack's raincoat over your head.

Your clothes clung to you, still somehow damp and stained with blood, while your shoes were caked in mud and soaked through.

Exhaustion weighed on you, your eyes felt like they had weights on them, you were desperate for sleep.

"We're here," Jack's voice broke your thoughts.

You glanced up to see a run-down camper van, its condition was...hm.

"Not good enough for you?" Toby teased, nudging you when he noticed your expression.

"Wha—shut up," you muttered, shaking your head as you followed Jack to the door.

"It's not-" Jack started, yanking at the handle a few times, pulling it vigorously.

He gave a final pull, the whole door came off in his hands and he stumbled back off the steps a little.

You tried to hide a laugh, but when you caught the way Toby shook his head, you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Jack stood there for a moment, holding the door, bewildered.

"Wa-ay to go, buddy," Toby chuckled, patting Jack's shoulder before strutting into the camper, you followed behind.

The inside of the camper was suffocatingly musty, a stale odour clinging to the air that made your nose wrinkle up, it smelt a bit like the motel.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light seeping through the dirty windows, you took in the cramped, cluttered space.

The small kitchen area had a rusted sink, with a few absolutely filthy dishes piled in it. The cabinets hung slightly open, some were missing handles, showing you glimpses of faded food packaging dusty shelves and rat droppings.

At the far end of the kitchen area, you spotted a small bathroom, its door hanging crooked on its hinges.

To your left, a narrow, ratty couch was up against the wall, its cushions worn down to the springs. In front of it sat a small yellow fold-out table, barely holding together.

Near the couch, there was, what you assumed, a makeshift sleeping area, an old mattress thrown on the floor with a disheveled sleeping bag tossed carelessly on top.

Dirt and leaves were scattered around the place, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were intruding on someone else's space.

You scanned the area, and your eyes landed on a dusty stack of tin cans near the sink.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked one up, only to slam it down when you saw maggots wriggling around inside. You quickly moved away, gagging.

Toby shuffled behind you, rummaging through the cabinets. He pulled out a can, blowing off the dust before squinting at the label.

"This expired-d in 1980. Holy shit," he muttered, showing you the can with a grimace.

You mumbled an "ew" and turned away, opening the fridge instead, in search of something even older.

The fridge was just as dismal as the cabinets, the inside crusted with grime and had bugs crawling around and filled with a few mouldy peices of fruit and meat with more maggots.

But, surprisingly, you found a carton of milk near the back.

You moved past the infested meat and grabbed it, turning it over in your hands, and blinked when you saw the expiration date...tomorrow.