Insanity • lrh

nineteen

sorry for any mistakes, still have a cracked phone.

•••••••

Mack's Pov.

I freeze. I wait for him to grab me, to slam me on the ground and rip my throat out, but nothing happens. His skin is ice cold, hard as stone. I force myself to glance at his face, but he's looking the other way. His grip on my hand doesn't loosen, but it doesn't tighten either.

I shift my weight a little, to see if he's putting any on his leg, but it's like he's a statue. He doesn't move at all.

"Luke, are you okay?" I ask, and my voice comes out in a very quiet squeak. He doesn't answer.

Without really thinking, I jerk myself away from him, ripping my hand from his grasp and stumbling a few feet away. He doesn't even sway. He's standing really straight, still looking the other way. This isn't right. He should have fallen, he can barely stand with me helping him.

"Luke, are you okay?" I repeat, trying to make my voice sound stronger.

Again, no answer.

He shifts a little. Then, slowly, very slowly, he turns his head to look at me, his eyes black as coal, soulless and empty.

My breath catches in my throat. I'm not sure if I should run as fast as I can away from him like I want to. Something tells me whatever is controlling him isn't targeting me this time.

He doesn't say anything, he just turns away from me and looks straight ahead. The dread washes over me, but it's less threatening then it's been.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he raises his good leg, stepping forward. His movements are jerky, robotic, and in no way human. He drags the bad leg, his right leg, across the floor to meet his other, not putting much weight on it. He continues to move forward this way, and I can't help but think that if Luke was controlling his body at the moment that it would be agonizing.

I walk backwards until I hit the wall beside one of the doors, sucking in a breath and trying not to make a sound. I watch as he moves down the hallway, back into the direction of the surgery rooms. Where the heck is he going? My mind is racing with questions and fear, but the only logical action I can think of is to follow him.

I peal myself off of the wall, starting behind him. I try to keep a distance of at least 20 feet, not really wanting him to see me. I fear if he looks at me too long, or even just glances at me again, he'll attack me like before. So I keep this slow pace, hand trailing against the wall of the hallway, trying hard to ignore the crusty feeling of dried blood on the old paint.

He walks, or stumbles, down the hallway of the surgery rooms, and I cringe at the sight of the same room we came across earlier. Please don't let that thing come back. I beg quietly, trying to distract myself from the terror raising inside of me. Please just let us get out of here. Please let Luke come back to himself. Please.

He stops outside one of the rooms, tilting his head, as if thinking. After a pause, Luke's body shuffles mindlessly into the dark area. That can't be good.

Carlisle's Pov.

That's it girl. That's it. Follow me like the ignorant little piece of waste you are. I can't wait until I can get you down to me. I can't wait to make sure you won't leave here. I just need to dispose of your friend here first, though he has been quite a nice host. He is no longer needed.

Mack's Pov.

I slowly move down to the edge of the door, stopping with a gulp. A few rattling sounds pierce the air, followed by a loud thud. I turn my head to look inside.

Luke's knocked over the tool rack, which is now laying next to the old surgery table, rusted instruments strewn all across the floor. He's holding something really close to his face, as if examining it. I have to squint, but I soon realize it's a scalpel.

To my horror, Luke's body lifts it's arm, raises it's hand, and begins to press the scalpel vertically across its wrist. Is it trying to kill itself?

"NO!" I scream, my only thought being that of stopping him. I throw myself into the doorway, bringing my arms up and pushing Luke backward, making him drop the scalpel and fall to the floor. He's up in a millisecond, grabbing the scalpel on his way up with inhuman speed, towering over me. Luke shoves me hard, my body flinging itself down, my arm landing right on top of one of the surgery tools. Unfortunately for me, that tool happens to be a pair of open scissors.

I yelp, not even having enough time to rip the thing out of my forearm before Luke's on top of me, raising the scalpel over his head.

"Stupid bitch, you thought you could stop me? Guess I'll have to cancel my plans for you later and JUST DEAL WITH YOU NOW!" He roars, his breath hot on my face.

My arms shake as I struggle to hold off his arms, my muscles straining. I'm no match for him. I close my eyes, waiting for the pain, waiting to feel the small blade set my chest on fire, but the moment never comes.

"S-STOP!" Luke's voice yells, and my eyes fly open. Luke's body yanks itself off of me and onto the floor, clutching it's head.

"D-DON'T- STOP IT BOY, LET ME GET TO HER- H-HURT H-HER!" That horrible deep voice breaks through Luke's, and Luke claws at his hair, writhing violently, his bad leg shaking, blood seeping from the now ripping tourniquet. "G-GET AWAY- O-out... of m-me..."

As if somebody pulled a plug, Luke's body stops, limp and still.

With shaking hands, I start to get up, but yelp at the sharp pain in my forearm. I look down, grimacing at the sight of one of the long blades of the scissors half-buried under my elbow. Blood is already seeping from the wound. Great, something else to worry about.

"Dammit." I mutter, biting my lip to keep from swearing loudly while I slip my fingers through the holes of the scissors, pulling them out quickly like a bandaid. I wince at the flaming pain that follows, trying to keep the millions of profanities running through my mind from slipping out of my mouth. I use the already stained hem of my sweatshirt to wipe at the wound, absorbing most of the blood, but twice as much follows.

Ally's Pov.

"Wait, what the hell is going on?" Are the first words that come out of Calum's mouth after Dave has called in help.

Richard shoots him a look, basically saying you don't want to know.

Within 15 minutes, two more police cars pull up. Two officers step out of the first one, and four out of the other. Most look about Dave's age, but two or three seem to be younger. All of them have guns and radios fastened to their belts, flashlights in hand.

Calum jumps up again to greet them, because that's just how Cal is with everybody, but Richard beats him to it. Ashton jogs over to catch Calum before he can say anything, pulling him to sit down on the hood next to him. Ashton whispers something into Calum's ear, and Calum nods, folding his hands into his lap and staring at them. I can just imagine the anxiety he's probably going though right now. After all, he's the one that swerved off the road, and I don't even have to think to know he's blaming himself for all of this.

"Be careful." Richard tells them. "I made it up to the front office and found this," he held up Mack's shattered cell phone, "I looked around for any signs of them, but the footprints ended there. The old carpet was bunched up around the door, like someone had slid, but after that it was just a bunch of strange prints in the floor. I tried to follow them, but I looked up and saw some animal in the far hall, and it ran towards me, so I took off. It's really easy to fall on all that rot. I suggest you load those guns, and keep your radios active." Is all he says before the officers are walking down to the building.

This all seems like a dream. Everything is happening so fast.

"H-How, wha-" Calum stutters, but Dave cuts him off.

"They know what they're doing." He swallows, shuttering, before adding: "I just hope they stay safe."