Once Upon a Story [ INCONSISTENT UPDATES ]

𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖉

Trigger warning: semi-graphic description, traumatic escape, slipping into death and the likes. This applies to the entire series (two more parts on the way), although it's lighter by the end.

❝❤️❞ —— 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩
𝘗𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯,
𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

Her heart drummed against her chest. She clutched her gun tightly, silently praying for help. She had three bullets left, a throbbing ankle, and enough bruised ribs to want the remaining bullets for herself.

She could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. They were slow and deliberate, trying to conceal themselves. But in the silence of the storm, it was all she could hear over her heartbeat.

Pushing herself further into the wall of the closet, she tried to make herself invisible. She tightened her jaw in protest of her clattering teeth and flexed her shivering muscles. She tried ignoring the fire prickling her nerves as the cold devoured her skin, but the frozen blood clots digging into the soles of her feet only triggered endless streams of agony.

Knowing the fog of her breath could alert them, she focused on pushing out a cooler stream of air. Her body, on the brink of crisis, was barely warm enough to make her breathing noticeable, but she couldn't risk being found.

As the creaking footsteps stopped close to her location, she thought they had given up, but the closet door swung open. She held her breath, clinging to her hope for life.

The men filtered through the dusty clothes concealing her. Their hands came closer and closer, nearly finding the back where she hid, then stopped. She heard a frustrated grunt and the door slammed shut. The adrenaline kept her standing despite her dizzying relief.

She slowly breathed in, breath shaking, and waited. She heard them search upstairs, downstairs again and trek their way out.

"If she's out there, she's dead by now," one said. "No use looking any longer."

"Yeah, let's get out of here," replied the second. "This blizzard is about to snow us in."

They had finally left. But even after their talk became a lost whisper, she didn't move. Fearful. She waited, not knowing if they'd return. Only when she felt faint did she gain the courage to move.

Her limbs were stiff and aching. Not one part of her was without pain, battered by the cold. Grabbing old clothes from the closet, she covered herself, hoping to reduce her exposure to the elements. What should've taken a few seconds took several insufferable minutes.

As she sat against the wall, she leaned her head back, exhausted. Her body had stopped shivering earlier, and she was certain it had entered a hypothermic state. She feared closing her eyes, but her dropping head only encouraged it. Her hand blindly searched the floor, her mind losing control over her limbs. Even as she tried holding her gun, it clattered to the ground.

She cried. "Dam...ien... Dami...in." She called him again and again. But he never came. The ring on her finger shined even without light, encouraging her. She continued, crying out to him with a weaning force. But still, no one came.

Strength fading, she closed her eyes. Her grip on the gun loosened, and her breathing slowed. She shed her final tears, filled with apology, and fell asleep.

The pain was gone.

This story references characters from the "Light My Fire" chapter.
The images and prompt aren't mine.
I couldn't think of a title, so here we are🙃