Short Stories by Panic! At The Disco

Part Two: Emperor's New Clothes

A/N

Just excuse my bad grammar and spell.
Trigger Warning: there is a slight mention of past self harm in paragraph 4 so if you get triggered by that just tiptoe through the first few paragraphs.

Just as suddenly as her words had flooded his mind, they were drained out of his ear and he found himself staring blankly into the white void of nothingness. Brendon dragged his thumb across the tear and examined it.

Why was I crying? Who was the woman who's voice had taken up residence in his mind just moments ago and more importantly, what had she said?

His mind repeated those three questions again and again like a broken record player playing a scratched vinyl. Frustrated, he flicked the saltwater off his thumb and watched as it turned red on the fog covered floor.

This didn't raise any questions like it should have nor when blood began to swell from his thumb as if he were pricked by a needle. He was absent mindly sucking at it when sharp pains raked across his forearms. He looked and saw all his old scars reopened, the faded lines that served as a reminder of all his self harm sessions and failed suicide attempts now ran with blood. He clutched at the fresh wounds hoping to stop - or at the very least slow down - the blood flow.

The sticky liquid ran down his body and pooled at his feet. His sneakers slipped in it and he came crashing to his knees, blood splattering his jeans and once white shirt. he groaned in pain as he began sinking into the floor.

His arms were on fire as he clawed at the still semi-solid floor but to no avail. Exhausted, Brendon gave up his struggle and embraced what was to come. It wasn't death for how can you die when you're already dead. It felt like a trap door had been opened and he was now free falling down a black void.

Images of all his sins glowed in the darkness, sins he'd wrote and the tragedies they had caused. His self-harm, the lies he told and tests he cheated on. Each worse than the last, all building up to the day he renounced his faith.

Brendon's body hit the ground with an audible thump that left him winded. The raven haired boy sputtered a curse when he regained his breath, sitting up and rubbing his now scar free arms.

He squinted, trying to take in his surrounding's but the only light offered to him was a faint, warm glow in the distance and the purple lightening that struck overhead. Peeking through the upturned soil were human bones, some fragmented and others still apart of fully formed skeletons.

Lightening flashed and the thunder crackled, the purple light illuminating a figure hidden behind a dead shrub. He strained his eyes trying to make out the figure. The purple light shone once more but the figure was gone. He scrambled about, rolling in the soil and looking from left to right to find the thing he had just seen.

Run...

Something whispered to his right. A smashed in skull peered at him with empty sockets.

Flee...

It spoke, its lifeless jaws moving.

Thunder boomed and echoed in whatever hell hole he had landed in and he saw multiple people closing in on him. No, not people. People didn't have raven feathered wings or horns protruding from their skulls. People wouldn't stare at him with hungry, yellow eyes or an animalistic grin that had insanity plastered all over it.

Escape or suffer the same fate as I...

Brendon scrambled to his feet, kicking up dirt as he fled down a tunnel. He heard screeches resembling that of a crows and wings flapping as they followed after. His left foot got snagged by a dead tree root - his one shoe had long since been abandoned - and he fell face first in the soil.