• Chainsmoker • Masky × Reader •

28

It was freezing. It was so cold she shivered and felt stinging on her skin from soft winds. She kept her arms crossed as a desperate attempt to shield herself from the cold as she sat up.

It was the forest.

She looked down, finding she had no knife or gun. She didn't even have clothes, stuck wearing merely a sports bra and boy shorts underwear. That was so helpful against the cold, too.

She didn't want to get up, the cold making her only want to curl up and pray for warmth. However, she knew she couldn't. She had to get out.

She got up and walked, slow and tense against the wind. She stumbled some as she walked, feeling weaker than usual and actually dizzy. She could have swore she was seeing movement in the brush around her, but she couldn't be sure.

It felt like an hour she had been walking, though it was likely only ten minutes perhaps. The cold only seemed to worsen.

Then, she came across a clearing. It was a place she had never seen. Mushrooms lined the entrances to the clearing, and a bright, soft sunlight made everything visible. Warmth even seemed to be radiating from the clearing.

She cautiously walked out into it, and immediately relied and relaxation flooded into her senses. She accepted it, even though it wasn't right. Everything was wrong about this area.

She took her chance to sit and rest. She wasn't thinking straight. It was as if she was a bit tipsy. She was mindless and didn't care. There were no worries in her mind.

She didn't mind as something thick wrapped around her ankles. She didn't mind as the same sort of thing wrapped around her neck and she was lifted up from the ground. She thought nothing about how the ones around her ankles slid up her legs, painfully squeezing her.

She merely stared with no emotion as the faceless creature stood face to face with her, static flooding her ears and her vision somehow giving her a clear look.

She wasn't struck with horror as the creature's face split as if to bring about a mouth. The skin ripped and tore, a black sludge spilling out as if it was the thing's blood. The rip in its face looked like it was turning to a grin even. Yet, she wasn't unnerved a bit. She didn't care about staring death straight in the face.

Suddenly, she was stabbed through the stomach with one of its tendrils, making her scream out and sputter out a crimson blood from her mouth. Blood spilled from the gaping hole in her stomach, contrasting with the color of the light green grass is fell onto.

She didn't care though. She was dying, but she didn't care.

Then suddenly, a loud yell struck her. She came to her senses, if only for a moment.

Her eyes widened and she let out a blood curdling scream of terror and pain. She struggled to writhe away from the monster's grasp but it proved fruitless. The yell came again. It was clearer this time.

It was him. He was calling for her.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, all from the pain of her physical being and also her mental wellbeing. She screamed and screamed, doing nothing but seemingly amuse the creature she had always been so bothersome to. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to fail them, herself, everything and everyone. She couldn't.

Suddenly, she gasped awake with a sharp, tremendous pain in her stomach and a pounding headache. She was being held gently by a dark haired man, a man who she couldn't remember who he was for a moment. His face was pained with a worried expression.

She looked down at herself, unable to keep from raising her shirt to look at her stomach. It was bright red and burned, but other than that, she was fine. She was confused and concerned, and couldn't even bring herself to speak.

What was that dream?

She looked back at Tim, who stared at her questionly. She brushed aside what she worried about and flashed a cocky smile. "And what has you so worried, Timmy?" She laughed at him.

He was speechless, a faint smile growing on his lips as he shook his head. "You child," he chuckled.

Looking around, she noticed Brian wasn't around. "Where is..."

"Brian went out, took some money, and really I don't know what he is doing. I'm sure he's fine though," Tim answered her unasked question. She gave him a soft smile, however it was still unable to hide the fact she was worried.

She leaned into his chest and sighed. "This shit is, well, stressful and messy," she mumbled. Tim couldn't help but laugh as he played with her (h/c) stands of hair. "I'll drink to that."

She let out a small chuckle. "If only we actually had something to drink." Tim shrugged.

"We could get some?" He suggested and she had to look at him, a childish, daring smirk on her face.

"Let's," she laughed with him.