Villains ➵ bill skarsgård a.u.

nine

Happy New Year, my children. I hope 2018 lubes us up first before directly fucking us in the ass. (Okay ignore that please)

Adrianne

°°°°

Before I could put down the camera and end studying the surroundings, I've noticed something protruding from the corner of the picture, just next to my shoulder where a door was seen a few feet away from where I was standing.

Chills ran down my spine. There was a guy stood directly by the door, his widened eyes staring straight at the camera as the flash went off and Illuminated his rather extremely pale skin. His features were no where near Arthur's. He looked like a statue. He seemed frigid and unmoving, but the fact that he looked alive enough made me realize otherwise.

Alarms began going off everywhere inside my head. My body became incapable of moving, my grip on the camera getting stiffer as I blinked repeatedly in order to make sure my head wasn't playing with me. But no matter how hard I try to think I was just hallucinating, I was not. I stared at it, it's dilated pupils and the obvious uncanny look on his face. It wasn't going away. It was just there and his expressions were the epitome of utter and complete insanity.

He was standing behind me. Right here, right now.

It was like all fear of the dead vanished, and was replaced by the fear of other people would consider more realistic things such as psychopaths and serial killers. I've suddenly had so much in my head that had nothing to do with trying to get out of there, instead all I thought about was, death itself. How this man could possibly do all sick things to my dead body once he had murdered me and drowned me in my own blood, For whoever this person was; he found me first, unprepared, powerless and terrified. Other than all of that, I was completely alone and I could easily be pummeled.

That was one thing I've forgotten about Hillside Cross Station. The living people who found a dwelling inside its rotten walls, waiting for victims to manipulate and lure into their depressing end.

As soon I regain my strength to move, I begin to turn on my heel slowly and cautiously, wishing that the floor wouldn't make a sound as I do so. I bit my bottom lip shut, my fists clenched against my blazer and I make my breathing as soundless as I could possibly manage, to the point where I was holding it in completely and my chest felt like it was going to explode. I couldn't see anything, yet I know he was there still. I could feel him, and I could feel his shallow breathing from a distance.

I stood there, sweating excessively as I argue with myself whether I should make a run for it or just wait until I hear another thing slam into the floor before I sprint for my life. But in the moment I felt like none of it was useful. I feel like it's too late for me to run away from him.

All of a sudden, I was beyond certain I haven't put pressure on to the shutter but for some reasons it went off. And right there I've seen him again, this time inappropriately close. In fact too close that he was right in front of me and his eyes were staring directly into mine. Instinctively I stumbled backwards, my stomach churning and my mouth disabled from saying anything other than the urge to scream bloody murder. All decent thinking has been eradicated inside my head.

I sucked in a breath, my feet spontaneously turning heavy as I make an attempt to run wherever into the darkness just so I could distance myself away from him and away from the possibilities of my life ending, nevertheless I felt like I couldn't. I couldn't move. It was like that sensation when you're dreaming and you try to get out of the sight of a monster and you run away as fast as you could, only to realize at the end that you were still there and you never moved in the first place. After that you'll just wake up and continue on living in reality, but this was different. I wasn't asleep, and I can't possibly wake up from my own horrors.