NatePat One-Shots

The Gore

Rotting, hurting, dying, suffering, wishing...
Everything was falling apart.
Why wouldn't it?
It seemed like the world had it out for them.
Why should they be surprised?
Because they had love, they were in a love so deep that they thought that nothing could ruin it. A couple of teenagers, mindless men in a lovesick state, when finally their The End had been sealed. Sealed with tears, with a ring, and with a kiss. Time flies before someone predictably ends up alone, their mind feeding on sympathy like a pauper; teeth grinding agony. Silence was their only friend and darkness is where they lurk, waiting impatiently for them to fall apart when defeat was inevitable. If Matthew had known what his own friend would be capable of, would he have said anything? No, of course not, because fear had already gripped him when he noticed the marks. Nathan noticed them, too. The desperate claw marks of a struggling victim are not always apparent, written off as an agitation of the skin or an allergic reaction. But as more start to appear, this time in places almost unreachable, it is noticed that they start to bleed and stink of a putrid rot so fierce that it's a wonder no one else notices. Matthew noticed and always feared the day when it would be his nails digging into flesh, desperately trying in vain to climb to salvation and to his lover. With unspoken words, red eyes flashed before him as he was yanked backwards by his legs, screams of terror echoing as he was pulled away. He had been waiting for them, waiting for the time when they were truly alone and helpless, then he picked his moment to strike. Nathan remained silent and still against a wall in the kitchen, a steady stream of blood flowing from his nose and a bit from his forehead. Whoever was doing this had a mask on, one that resembled some sort of ghostly figure, stoic expression hiding any hint to who he was.

Matthew had a theory, but his mind was racing much too fast for him to even consider it.

A series of painful screams and spasms erupted from poor Matthew, coaxing the intruder to laugh and drag him farther into the house. The basement was his choice as he finally grew tired of the screaming, delivering a swift blow to his head to shut Matthew up. Almost immediately, Matthew lost consciousness and was trying to claw his way out of his own mind. The memory of Nathan, his Nathan, lingered and caused an unspeakable amount of hurt to course through his chest. If only they'd called the police, if only Nathan had considered the fact that Mark, a close friend, was a murderer. Hours passed and it seemed like Matthew would never wake up, but a pain in both his wrists caused his eyes to open slightly, still glazed over as frantic words were whispered to him. He groaned in pain as his body rocked slightly, more whispers floating into his ears as his eyes lazily drifted over to a figure tied to a chair. Nathan frantically struggled against his bindings and screamed through his gag, but whatever he was saying was not heard or considered until their attacker entered the room. It was only then that Nathan stopped struggling. The ghostly mask was removed and, as Matthew assumed, Mark's face was all he could comprehend.

"Good morning," he muttered, his voice unnaturally deep. "Sleep well?"

Matthew reached the words at a delay, for his mind was racked with an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. It was a drug, a goddamn drug, Mark had probably stuck a needle into him before he even woke up. It would explain why his limbs felt like jelly, and as his anger rose Matthew found that he gained some feeling in his hands again. Nathan started struggling again but stopped when Mark backhanded him, Matthew would have said something if his throat wasn't so dry.

"I've had enough of you, Sharp." Mark scoffed, locking onto Matthew.

A trickle of fear ran up Matthew's spine but was partially numbed by whatever drug Mark had used on him, his eyes still only half open. The red highlights in Mark's hair seemed to glow brighter, but Matthew only growled tiredly before attempting to struggle.

"You can try and escape all you want," Mark walked over to a black backpack, ruffling through it. "But I'm not finished."

It was too blurry to see exactly what it was, Matthew wasn't sure he even wanted to know, but if his increasing heartbeat meant anything it was warning him that a darkness lingered. Growing closer and closer, but then stopping and turning to the musician still strapped in a chair behind him, freezing when eyes landed on him. Mark blinked at Matthew before smiling maliciously, looking almost innocent, but once he turned around the theorist saw the scratch marks on the back of his neck. There was no humanity left inside him anymore, the crippling silence had finally suffocated the once caring individual, pulling at his limbs and peeling away his skin to reveal a monster. One with dead fish eyes, a bigger build, and a hulking hunger for blood as he stalked towards the man who brought Matthew so much joy. It seemed like hours of Mark just standing there, his shadow looming over Nathan, until he raised a sharp knife high enough to cause great pain.

Matthew looked away, but not fast enough.

Muffled screams echoed through his own basement along with blood curdling tearing sounds, like someone was ripping apart fabric. At some point, the gag was removed and Nathan was really screaming to the heavens for the pain to stop soon. But his screams became struggled breaths, blood flowing up his throat as the knife came down again, his own voice being drowned in wet redness. Various gurgling noises and muscle spasms followed as Nathan tried to recover from the mutilation, but before he could even think to breathe, Mark pulled out a needle and injected a noxious poison in his veins.

"Funny thing about this," he held up the needle, glancing at Matthew. "Is that it was used for fun!"

Matthew watched in sluggish horror as Nathan's body started seizing, foam mixing with blood and spit as his muscles contracted against his bones. He choked and sputtered, his eyes rolling back into his head and his glasses falling to the floor violently. With a whimper, Matthew regained feeling in his body all at once and started to struggle and scream as Nathan abruptly stopped moving. The last breath was drawn before his head fell to the side, his eyes staring upwards and glazed over with lingering pain and defeat. Mark had simply watched, biting his lip to try and keep himself from laughing.

His eyes locked onto Matthew again, sizing him up as he continued to scream.

"Gopher Killer, probably worse than drowning or burning." Mark mumbled, walking towards him with bloody hands. "But I'll make yours worse."