𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 || [𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑]

𝟎𝟕.

Author’s note

Hi guys the following chapter will be from Detective Jean Kirstein’s perspective  😍😍.

JEAN

Outside of apartment number 256, the storm raged on showing no end in sight.

Just like everything else in Stohess, the weather was unpredictable. One minute the sky had been sunny and blue, not a cloud in sight – and the next, thick grey monstrous rain clouds covered the sky, threatening to burst at any moment. The night brought along a thunderstorm that confined everyone to their homes.

The rain pelted against the bedroom window like tiny pebbles, threatening to shatter the glass. The wind howled through the space beneath the bedroom door like a wolf in the dead of night. A mixture of icy cold wind and rain flooded in through the half open bedroom window, causing a pool of water to form on the floor below.

The room was dark, except for the dim, red hue that emanated off the alarm clock on the bedside cupboard.

23:30pm

Every few minutes, the room would be illuminated by a bright flash of lightning that casted ghastly shadows on the wall, followed by a thunderous boom that echoed through the room.

The monotonous hum of the ceiling fan resonated through the room; in the distance, the faint drip drip sound of a faucet that hadn’t been closed properly could be heard from the bathroom across the hall.

Detective Jean Kirstein lay uncovered in his king sized bed, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts. A soft, muffled whimpering sound escaped his parted lips as he lay in a fetal position, his arms wrapped tightly around his body as he searched for comfort. His breathing was rapid, his chest rising and falling in short bursts as he searched for air.

Despite the air in the room being cold as ice, the heat that radiated off his body caused tiny droplets of sweat to pool on his skin. His damp, ash brown hair clung to his face as beads of sweat slid off each strand like dew drops in the morning. Hot tears slowly trailed down the side of his face, falling onto the pillow below.

The bed was in complete disarray as pillows were strewn across the floor, the white comforter that he usually slept under, lay in a heaped pile at the foot of the bed.

Jean continued to whimper and shake as he slept, soft heart wrenching cries escaped his lips as images of pain, suffering and death replayed in his mind. The smell of charred wood and burnt plastic invaded his senses. It was as if his nightmares had merged with reality, the air in his room becoming so thick that it constricted his airways.

Memories of that night replayed over and over as he tossed and turned, unable to catch a moment of peace.

Every gust of wind that blew, brought with it a wave of scorching hot air, blowing straight into Jean’s face. He frantically searched around, hoping that help was on its way.