Memory Logs

Sympathy

5.Sympathy

[ Encounter 94; MacMillan Estate. ]

Meg couldn't help but wonder, over and over again as she jogged briskly through the misty woods, why the hell she had lost her mind. She'd always been brave, bold, even risky, but she couldn't think of a single logical reason at the moment for why she was doing what she was doing.

But as she encroached on the grounds of the MacMillan Estate, the dark and dusky sky casting a sickly blue glow over her, all concerns melted, instead replaced with... curiosity.

That burning need for answers.

Clutching the drawing in the pocket of her sports jacket, the red-head stepped into the grounds, searching them for any sign of her query. That hulking figure had to be moping about somewhere, right...? Wasn't this where he stayed when he wasn't called upon by the Entity?

Meg's search didn't take long. But the sight she was met with...

Eyes widened in absolute shock and, on instinct, she rushed over to the panel. It was 8 feet high and five feet across, made of steel - and on it, with hundreds of nails, spikes, and other sharp objects sticking out of his body, was the Trapper.

Evan.

Meg could only stare in horror for a moment. What... what was this? Was this torture from the Entity, or some weird self-inflicted punishment for his sins? A trembling hand slowly extended toward him - only to pause when she saw two milky white eyes shift down behind his mask to look at her. They were glazed over, barely registering her, and his massive body was heaving, struggling to go on. "Who did this to you?" she uttered, voice quivering.

He only rumbled; the sound akin to a bear caught in a trap - a bear that had given up and accepted its fate.

She should've been smiling. She should've been relishing in the fact that this brutal monster, the one that had been killing her and her friends for god knows how long, was receiving his just rewards. He was paying atonement for all the horrible things he'd done - she should have been filled with joy.

Why could she only stare in utter dismay?

The longer she looked, the more she realized that the savage pieces of metal always sticking out of his scarred skin were identical to the ones she saw piercing him now. Pieces were put into place and Meg gasped at the realization that this was something that happened to him more than once. Pretty frequently, probably.

She wasn't sure why she started moving - instinct guided her, not logic as she whipped forward, beginning to pull each and every item out of her. Tossing aside a bloody screwdriver that had been plunged into the side of his face near the edge of the mask, Meg continued her work at an almost frantic pace until he was free of the things pinning him to the cold metal panel - and eyes widened in panic as she realized he was falling. Right onto her.

Even her quick feet didn't have time to react as the hulking man slumped off of the wall with a defeated rumble, and they fell right into the grass, his body covering hers entirely. Meg didn't know what was more concerning; the fact that she could feel his blood seeping into her clothes, or the fact that his body felt extremely warm, like a weighted blanket. Trying to catch her breath and poking her head up above his massive, blood-stained shoulder to get fresh air, Meg felt her hands pressing against the bare skin of his chest, blood soaking her fingers and the material of his overalls. He seemed to be alive, she could tell from the animal-like breathing coming from behind the mask, but if he was conscious, he seemed to be too weak to move.