Outlast Whistleblower Fanfic [COMPLETED]

Chapter 7: A New Predicament

I slowly open my eyes, at first confused by my surroundings. 'Oh yeah, I forgot.. The whole air vent story.' My hand finds the surface of the vent, before it slowly starts feeling up the sides. My hand lands in something wet, slimy, and just plainly gross. I yell out of surprise and pull my hand back, jumping with fear. That jump was all it took for the old creaky vent to break and to send me tumbling down, even as I desperately tried to cling onto the metal sheets.

I land in a puddle. Well I hoped it was a puddle as I climb out of the left over air vent. I look around at my surroundings. 'A hallway. Nothing unordinary. What caught my attention though was the big words 'Female Ward' written on the wall. 'Maybe I'll find some female patients..' I wondered 'what the hell would that do? Improve my situation? Definitely not ' I argue with myself. I shook off the argument and my eyes wander to the puddle I had landed in. 'Yeah.. this is not a puddle.' Of course it was old blood, having clumped with age into an almost goo like substance. So technically it was still a puddle.. Just a puddle of blood. From what I can tell it was fresh blood as well. Maybe I had landed on some unsuspecting bypasser?

I lift up the vent and sure enough, a body is lying underneath it. I groan in disgust. It's a man.. well duh it's a man, I hadn't exactly had the fate of running into another woman so far. But he is... different. He looks relatively normal compared to everybody else here, well, to a certain extent. The man resembled a groom, his clothes matching that of a groom perfectly. 'Maybe he was playing hide and seek with his bride?' I chuckle. Thats when his hand twitched. This guy is still alive! I suddenly realize and take a step backward, my body hitting the wall.

He groans. 'Run. Run. Now is the chance to run!' But I don't. My feet are glued to the floor, unable to move, unable to function. His other hand twitched now and a smile makes its way on that face. Calling it a face is maybe a little...too kind. Half of a face would be more accurate. Half face.

The half face slowly sat up, pushing the air vent further away from him. His motions seemed nice and connected, as if he had done this about a million times before. Half face looked around, trying to focus on something, anything. And of course, his focus landed on me.

His smile turned into a grin. "My bride," he slowly stood up. By this time, I was breathing heavily, and his heavy seductive voice wasn't make me less fearful. 'Bride? So he is a groom...well I'm certainly not his bride. Is this what the Priest had been referring to? Why he asked me if I was married?' I question to myself, a new streak of horror marked across my face.
No matter how badly I want to run, my foot simple aches in complaint and I am forced to stand as still as a statue, and he just kept coming closer...and closer.