L4d 1 & 2 oneshots ❤ (CLOSED)

Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone

Here's a slice of how I write!

Ship: Knellis (Nick x Keith x Ellis)

Title taken from Achilles, Come Down by Gang of Youths

Trigger warnings for angst, past abuse, (semi-) depiction of mental illness & a panic attack, and major character death (Sort of)

~~~

Nick's head throbbed. Before he'd even opened his eyes, his skull pulsed, swimming in anguish. The rest of his body followed suit, aching and hurting in the way it had only ever done during the apocalypse. He really didn't want to think about that.

Nick opened his eyes. He squinted at the bright daylight pouring in, blinking away the strain. He was facing the ceiling of him and his partner's bedroom. Instantly, Nick was aware that he was laying on the bed upside down, based on how he could feel the pillows under his feet. Nick tried to sit up and failed, muscles screaming from the mere attempt at exertion.

He rolled his head right, finding it pliant. Nothing but the bookshelf greeted him. He shifted his head back to look behind him. Evangeline's off-white crib sat in its place near the door to his left, a tiny quilt made by Ellis' mother sat along the drop rail. A wiggling bundle visible between the bars indicated Evangeline's safety.

A high-pitched squeal, gurgling and hissing, broke the silence of the room and Nick tensed. His eyes shot to the right corner of the room. A spitter, with its stretched neck and pigeon-toed stance, faced away from him, examining the dresser. His stomach involuntarily heaved as he looked upon its greyed, bloodied, deformed backside. Nick threw his head to the left, opening his mouth to call for Keith or Ellis, or anyone.

Nothing came out. It wouldn't have, even if he wasn't in excruciating pain. What his eyes met would've killed any words he could muster.

Acid sizzled, leaking into the hallway from the foyer. A few steps from the start of the hall was one of Ellis' arms, skin and muscle melting into the dark floorboards, exposing white bone to the sunlight. The rest of his corpse was obscured. A gun sat farther still, also melting into the floor. Keith's perfect, long, red locks pooled right in front of the door, the ends crackling away black. The curve of his freckled shoulder sat exposed, untouched by the horrid substance.

Broken and bent in, the saferoom door was open. Guess they weren't so sturdy after all.

Behind him, the spitter hissed again. Nick looked back as it turned around, its gaping maw leaking that cartoonishly green acid. It blinked, staring, before lining itself up, choking out an ugly gurgle and tightening its stomach. He froze, preparing himself for an agonizing death like his partners.

A soft whimper from the crib made his stomach fall to the depths of hell.

He looked at the spitter first. It faced the crib now, ignoring him in favor of the new prey. Nick could almost see it grin.

His breathing picked up, and he tried to rise once more, ignoring the pain. He couldn't. He looked back to the spitter, now making its way to his wailing daughter. Again he tried to rise, and again he failed. Nick finally realized he was being held down.

He faced his captor, vitriol in his blood, rage rising in his face. A witch straddled him, holding down his arms with bony claws, its wiry hair hanging inches from his face. No. Not its. It was hers. His fucking ex-wife's.

Evangeline's wailing muffled into the background.

Her chestnut colored hair danced over his cheeks, uncomfortably white teeth framed by blood red lips snarling at him. Nick stopped. Hundreds of memories of this exact situation slammed his psyche. Her holding him down, or having someone else do it, and him getting beaten black and blue and choked and left bleeding. And every time he'd call someone, or fight back, or do anything but take it quietly, the crocodile tears would come flowing out, convincing anyone and everyone present that she was the victim and that she deserved the apology. And after a month, Nick gave up fighting it, gave up telling others, gave up and took it, placating her all the while because that's all he could do. Because no one believed him.