warnings for abuse, fucked up thinking, drug addiction mention
Killer looks out over the mushy landscape Nightmare created hundreds of years ago. His window whistles but not from the wind coming in and thrusting itself back out. Instead, there's a fake whirling he conjured up inside his brain that sends a sickening cold spark up his spine.
Even though there wasn't wind in the place, Killer still felt unbelievably cold anyway despite being nothing but a sack of bruised up bones just waiting to be snapped into a trillion pieces. The loud thrumming constantly ringing over and over again in his ears wasn't helping his case in the slightest.
The only light he ever saw in this godforsaken place was from his eye strainingly bright red soul. He hated himself so much it might as well have created another new feeling for him to experience if he could even feel anything anymore. It's not like it mattered.
Admittedly, he felt like a fuck up. The only reason why he's here in the first place is because he made a mindless deal with a god who suffers from a lack of parental guidance. To be fair, he had no place to be talking about being parentless, but it made him feel better about himself when he was stepping on other people to get some resemblance of a reaction or maybe a rise.
Matter of fact, messing with Nightmare was one of his favorite things to do. The anger in Nightmare's horrifyingly black goo always gave him a disgustingly pleasurable feeling when he got the harsh end of the stick which just so happened to be every single time. It gave him the heightened sense of finally being able to melt into his head and forget about the ringing for a while.
Sometimes he'd lay there in a puddle of his own black tar-like tears for hours on end wondering when he'll slip back into that familiar state again. The one where he can't think straight.
Other times Killer gets up to find something more to hurt himself and watch as the blood spills out, making a mess while he stares at the oozing red liquid.
Sometimes he tries again.
Killer gets up from his bed, clearing the thoughts from his head and sitting up. He's looking down towards the floor like it has some deeper hidden meaning or has some kind of complex code he could lose himself in for a couple of hours. He needs to lose himself for a couple hours. He hates feeling nothing. He hates feeling like nothing.
His voided eyes glanced up to his door which was locked. There were scratches on the door from the short amount of time he kept a cat around. The moment was short-lived.
Strangely enough, the lights were on in the hall. Killer shared the hallway with three other versions of himself but he never paid any attention to them. He wasn't even sure what their names were. All he knew them by was through their attributes. Red eyed creep, hooded freak, monotonous geek.
For the first time in a while Killer felt a rush run through his bones. The feeling made him shiver. Thoughts of what could possibly happen swirled around in his empty head, making him so dizzy he might fall over from sheer excitement.
Slowly, Killer finds himself pushing his hollowed out body off of his bed and quietly sneaking forward to twist the knob of his door as silently as he could. He didn't know why he was being so stealthy. Maybe he wanted to connect with someone. Maybe he didn't wanna scare them away so he could get the full feel of what something new feels like again.
The door creaks unbearably loudly. It sounds like scratching the surface of a chalkboard with nothing but your bare fingers or the sound of a fork screaming when it's rubbing the side of a plate.
Killer peeks out the small gap he managed to peel back, looking left. Looking right. To his right is the hooded freak sitting with his back against the wall. Watching him, Killer can tell his posture is terrible from the way it curls unnaturally. The other is scrunched up like he's about to lose his shit if the silence keeps getting louder.
Killer almost feels bad for the guy. Almost. He was here for a reason and he had no doubt that they were similar at least in that aspect. His legs moved forward before his good for nothing brain could form a comprehensive train of thought. He had no idea where he would go with this but the thrill made his bones tingle in a way he's never felt before.
The hooded figure perks up, aware of his not so secret presence.
He looks up to find Killer staring at him with those dark soulless eyes, head tilted 45 degrees like a curious mutt. The urge to stick two fingers into his eye holes makes his soul throb nauseatingly. His eyes don't dare to meet fully with Killer's, the fear of seeing himself in the mass of black oily tears filling him with a terribly unpleasant dread.
Killer grins from the corner of his eye to the other as he senses the power he has over the hooded freak.
"So," he started, stepping in front of the skeleton, "You look pathetic, you know." His tone of voice had an underlying line of sympathy for the lonely pile below him. His shoes were toe to toe with the other's dusty and faded pink slippers, covered with strange stains.
"Fuck off." A fire ignited in the skeleton beneath him, making Killer's soul skip a beat if it could. He felt a gentle push of amusement pull him forward, wondering what else he can get his other version to say.
Killer's smile widened. "So you do talk." He pushed on, mumbling just low enough for the other skeleton to barely hear him, "And you're feisty too."
He didn't know why, but his heart was beating rapidly. He could feel the pulse of his soul reaching out for any kind of surface to helplessly grip onto.
He tried shaking it off in his next failed attempt at a sentence, the words coming out in unsteady breaths.
"What's.. Your name? N-never bothered to ask."
"Why should I tell you?" The nameless freak tugged at the scarf around his neck, pulling it forward to prevent the feeling of a noose constricting his neck.
"Well, mine's Killer. I see why you don't talk. Your voice sounds like you drowned yourself in hard drugs until you couldn't think anymore." Killer poked at him, gauging a reaction.
"...Dust." The other finally answered.
"And you don't know anything about me."
He sneered, wanting so badly to be left alone. His bones ached from being in the same spot for so long, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave this moment.
"You reek." Killer blurted.
Dust raised a brow, though Killer couldn't tell. "I didn't know smelling nice was a standard here."
pssst. chase... have you found any way to comfort samuel after a nightmare? or maybe is there anything you've done to make sure he gets a good night's rest?
when i tell you i jumped for joy i mean look at them they're the duo ever if anything bad happens anytime soon I'm gonna explode they're so happy and joy filled I AM HAPPY AND JOY FILLED
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
baratheonpilled
gummygunk
