When Violence Ensues: Slenderverse Short Stories.

Story Eighty Eight: Feed.

TRIGGER WARNING: EXTREMELY DARK AND VIOLENT CONTENT. HABIT INVOLVED.

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Feed our habits.

That one line stuck in Evan's throat. Hands slick with still-warm blood, the male was on his knees in the kitchen of Vincent's house.

Feed our habits.

He'd woken up there; and by the door lay a mutilated, unrecognisable corpse. Evan tasted blood on his tongue; and could feel flesh stuck between his teeth. God, he hoped that wasn't Vincent lying there. At this point, the dark haired man couldn't tell if he'd ever even met the person. All he knew was that there was a reverberating ache within his skull, and that metallic liquid filled his senses and choked him. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he could hear a dark chuckle.

Feed our habits.

His skin began to crawl.

Terror and hysteria began to bubble under his skin; eating away at the last sliver of resolve he'd managed to hold desperately onto. Evan trembled, looking at his hands with bewilderment written on his expression. He felt numb- detached from everything that was happening- he hadn't even realised there were tears finding their way down his cheeks.

FEED OUR HABITS, LITTLE RABBIT.

The voice taunted within his head. It beckoned and called and pushed and pulled as it pleased, tearing Evan apart and then burning the ashes of what was left. The creature was very good at that- a parasite that leeched off of his horror and utilised him like a puppet. He was merely a fleshy multitool to the demon.

WRONG. NOT A MULTITOOL, PER SAY, BUT DEFINITELY AN ARMY KNIFE.

"Shut up." Evan's weak, shaking voice whimpered as he brought a blood soaked hand to his face, and sank closer to the floor until his head was touching the cool tiles. He was burning up; barely able to even breathe without feeling like he was going to throw up and join the crimson mess that painted the floor. The male let the cold tiles soothe the fever that was ravaging his body; but nothing would stop the demon in the dark of his mind, who watched with a malicious grin.

FEELIN' SICK, EV? SORRY MAN, GOT A LITTLE CARRIED AWAY LAST NIGHT. TOO MUCH BEER!

"I wish it was just beer." The bloodstained man wept bitterly, violently trembling as he mumbled to himself, "God I wish it was just beer." The copper taste in his mouth and suspect textures at the back of his throat told him everything he needed to know about what HABIT had made him do- and it was unbearable to think about. Evan was too afraid to even lift his weary head from the floor, because identifying the corpse lying just mere metres from him might be the final straw that sent him over into the pit of the abyss.

He just wanted to close his eyes and not wake up. Evan was weeping onto the stained kitchen floor, curled up as his hands tugged at his hair and the demon in his head didn't silence.

CAN'T DIE YET, EV! TOO MUCH PLANNED FOR YOU. YOU'RE IMPORTANT, YOU KNOW.

"Just kill me. Please, just let me-"He croaked, before hissing in pain as a sharp cackle burst out within his head. It was agonisingly loud to him, as he flinched and clutched his head tighter; as if it were going to fall apart if he let go.

Maybe it would fall apart- that's what it felt like, at least.

He wished he'd just fall apart and never have to be a puppet to the entity ever again. In that precise moment, Evan came to the conclusion that even a slow, painful death would be a welcome release. Getting munched by The Rake? Torn limb from limb by The Tall Man?

Anything had to be better.

YOU'RE MINE, RABBIT. GET USED TO IT.

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HELLO ALL IT HAS BEEN SO FREAKING LONG BUT I'M BACK

WITH A SHORTER CHAPTER BUT WE GETTIN' BACK INTO THE SWING OF IT

HOW ARE YOU ALL? HOW HAS QUARANTINE BEEN? I HOPE YOU'RE WELL!! <3

MUCH MUCH LOVE.