Don't Starve

Corruption

Willow's P.O.V:
I stare at him as if he doesn't belong in the back ground, like he is sticking out like a sore thumb. He looks twice as bad since I left him. The thought of him covered in blood, sick and alone makes me nauseous. I want to run, to leave this all behind, but my legs don't seem to obey my thoughts. His hands are curled into fist, making his nails dig deeper into his skin. At any moment they could break his skin and he would bleed. I know that if he bleeds I would run. The black skin around his arm pulsates and shudders. Wendy is holding onto the back of my arm so tightly. I can't stand to look at his face any longer. I stare at the space between his feet, focus on that spot and pretend like he doesn't even exist. Then he does something strange. He starts laughing. It is sick and cruel. Something that you hear right before a person goes insane. I look up at him. He looks completely mad. His hands are clinging to the sides of his head, digging into his skull like they are trying to kill him. The ink is moving up his face, spreading itself out over him. It is traveling up his blood stream and taking over. I don't even know what to do. This horrible place is making all of us insane. I can't seem to cry, although I feel the ghosts of tears forming in my eyes.
"Stop it!" I scream. It is more like a wail or a moan. It sounded scratchy at the edges as if my voice was crying. Crying out to a poor, insane man who has finally lost it. Crying out at all the horrible things that he must have gone through. The guilt and pain builds up in the back of my throat. Wendy tightens her grip like it is the only thing she can do. I wish she would just get off of me. I wish she would run. To be honest, I wish I could. Wilson looks up at me and for once it looks like he actually sees me. That he actually processes that I am here standing in front of him. A wave of confusion goes across his face. His body goes still. It's like his entire being just stopped working. I couldn't see his chest moving. I couldn't feel my heart beating wither.
"Willow I," he says taking a step toward me. His actions are kind, almost sincere. He is trying to make up for something he never did. I feel myself move a step backward. The guilt builds in me. I can't find the ability to speak, and if I did, I don't think I would know what to say. He stays completely still. He looks confused. I know that I am crying, not on the outside, but somewhere deep down I can feel the tears. The feeling doesn't stop. Wendy places her dainty little hand in mine and holds on to me tightly. More tightly then I ever thought possible. I, for the first time in what feel like hours, am able to move. I wrap my fingers around hers and hold on just as tightly. Once I can feel her soft skin within my grasp I lose it. I become completely unhinged. It is like my body was holding in so much tension that when I let it out, I fell apart. I think of the Wilson I met the first day I came here. The one who caught me when I fell and saved me from the darkness. I remember the broken one that I abandoned. I pull Wendy close to me as my legs crumble under the guilt, and the pain, and everything else I hate about this world. I look up at Wilson, and for just a second I see past the evil that has manifested itself upon his face. Wilson rushes over, his motions cautious, but his face robotic. He kneels next to me, not daring to come close.
"Willow are you okay?" He asks. Wendy lets my hand go, squirming to escape my grip. It feels as if my movements are programmed as I jump over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. He reminds me of my brother and my home. He reminds me of something Maxwell cruelly took away from me the day I decided to run, my sanity.
Wilson's PoV:
Willow wraps her arms around me tighter as she realizes that I haven't hugged her back. A part of me wants to hold her back, to remind her that I still care. Another wants me to wrap my hands around her until I can't hear her breathe. I don't move. I can't suppress the evil within me for long. It courses through my veins. I know now why Maxwell did what he did. He gave me a little push. A little push towards insanity. The thing that is building itself within me is scratching on the walls in my head. It is screaming at me. I do not trust myself anymore. I look down at Willow and half wonder how her dead body would look in my arms. I feel the Thing grow happy from my thoughts. I feel it section itself into another area of my being, taking control of another part of me. I advert my eyes and Willow lets go. She seems so sad and helpless. I grab on tightly to my right arm, stand, and back away. I feel the fingers tighten against my will. I know that if I don't make my decision, then It will for me. I take a slow breath in, but it feels burdened when I manage to swallow it down. The air isn't invited anymore, it is very straining to get enough in to stay alive. I find myself looking over at Willow and Wendy again. I see them as the nightmarish things that I see in my mind. I see them as corpses crying out in pain. I advert my eyes and shut them tightly. Even this motion seems not to belong to me. I don't want to turn my back on them, but I feel as if I have no other choice.

"You are allowed to camp with us if you wish," I choke out, the words just breaking on polite, "Wendy can show you the way back." I turn back just for a second, long enough to see their reactions. They looked confused and innocent and completely lost. I turn around and walk off, unaware of where I was going.
I find myself self-consciously heading back to the pond I was at yesterday. My footsteps are light, but it doesn't feel like this is my choice. I run my left hand over the right side of my face. I can feel it, waiting patiently under my skin. I trace the cold under my finger tips. It has spread since last night. I can't stop imagining the two girl's dead faces. I can't stop these feverish nightmares, even when I'm awake. I cross over the path heading straight towards the pond, my feet moving without me having to think about it. I'm lost in thought and nearly fall right into the small pool of water. I force myself to stop, standing at the edge of the water. I don't want to look down, but the monster is screaming for me to do it. I look out to the other edge of the pool, stare there and concentrate on my thoughts. It doesn't take long for the evil to start tearing into my subconscious. Ripping into the walls of my brain and tearing them out. The pain is hot and fast, not like anything around here. It feels like my head is burning. I squeeze my temples, but I know it won't stop until I look down. I feel water lapping at my shoes, I hear it's splash against me. I look down. I don't register my reflection for a while. It doesn't even look like me. I trace the ink marks on my face again. This time they don't feel unnatural or cold. They feel as if they were apart of me the whole time. I pull of my vest and unfasten the buttons on my white shirt. The entire right side of my neck is coated in black. The thinning spider-web-like lines begin to form at my jaw and make their way up my face. They are mostly jagged at the edges and are relatively thin. A few branch off into two separate lines. Most of them stop just a few centimeters from my jawline. However, one of them, crawls its way up towards my eye and branches off in three separate directions. I push my thumb on it and try to wipe it off, but the line still stays, embedded in my skin. I pull the collar of my shirt down, revealing more blackened skin. It seems to swirl around from my shoulder onto my chest. I pull my gaze away from the water and slump to the floor. I press my hands into the sides of my head and rest my elbows on my knees. Maxwell was right, things had gotten a lot more interesting.