mecobee @mecobee - Tumblr Blog

Nov 2, 2025

Undead Romance | Isaac Night x Reader

master list part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15 part 16 part 17 part 18 part 19 part 20 part 21 (you're here) ... A/N: well, finally got to write this chapter, by far the trickiest to write. we are finally truly dipping into the ACTUAL dark/horror romance of it all and the true direction of this fic Obviously, spoiler warnings to those who have yet to finish the second season of Wednesday. warnings: death, violence, gory/graphic descriptions, dark themes, cannibalism, angst, genuinely the most fucked up part so far so much so i am inclined to say this is dead dove word count: 5.7 K

I never thought of myself as a reckless person. Not necessarily a rule follower, but I did follow wherever life took me because it was easier than swimming against the tide. So I’d like to say this all was a lapse in judgement, an out-of-character moment where I acted purely on emotion.

But no, I’d run the scenario through my head so many times that such a lie fell flat. As I was being walked out after Tyler’s last session, I did my best to get a general layout of Willow Hill. Things hadn’t changed too much from Francoise’s time here, but it was good to note all the nearest exits, as well as where they’d even decided to keep Isaac. Anything I could quickly assess in that moment to help me break the two out of this hellhole.

I waited until night to make any real moves. I shifted first into the skittered weight of a bat— less bulk, less noise— and let the night take me. Flying was awkward still; the years of unuse made my wings clumsy in ways my muscles didn’t anticipate. But flight isn’t finesse so much as focus. I cut low over the perimeter fence, past the cameras’ like nothing. It’s not as if they could catch me.

On the roof, I changed back only long enough to walk to the opening to the buildings air ducks. The vent grates were stubborn squares of metal; I wanted to leave as little evidence I was here as possible. I cupped one of corners with gloved fingers, found the micro-give, and forced one of the corners up large enough for me to squeeze through in bat form.

It was best this way, to crawl through the vents in a smaller more lightweight form. Only trouble was with such a small space I couldn’t make this quick, perhaps a more experienced flier would have been able to make do with the narrow space but I was not one of those talented bunch.

It’s not like there many opportunities for me to be adept with this form, if anything it was a trip to try and deal with being being five times smaller. The world looks so big and scary from this size, especially since I found myself in a mental instution at the dead of night for creatures and freaks alike.

Where was I going to keep the two boys if I managed to pull it off? Was it even a long-term solution to breaking them out? These were things I should have asked myself before I stepped off campus for the weekend, but the nature of breaking the law meant there would be variables outside of our control, and such things would need to be addressed when they came.

Yeah, this was a smart. Being here. I’m actually the dumbest person alive, holy shit.

With only one walk-though with Fairburn escorting me out last time, it was not as if I had the opportunity to map out the entire facility, only a few twisting hallways of the second level, before I had to go back down to the main floor. Which meant getting the maze of vents, fans, and filters through classic trial and error.

Vents smell like everyone who has lived beneath them— bleach and stale coffee, the ghost of cheap disinfectant, and the old animal musk of the place. I wriggled forward, every muscle coiled and ready. From above, I could watch the guards’ patrols, see their shuffle patterns, where they paused check on inmates, how they hunched at the dull jokes they told each other. That was the useful part, gave me a chance to watch where they would walk could finally make out where the outer edges of the building were, allowing me to find my way down a level or two.

I crawled over insulation warmed by the building’s breath, and used the echo of my own footsteps to mask the scrape when I had to force a metal bracket free. My heart kept a steady, irrational tempo— part fear, part adrenaline, part the stupid exhilaration of right now.

The patient blocks were arranged like teeth: small rooms in rows, observation windows, the corridor lights dimmed like theater cues. I counted doorways I saaw as I eased along a vent that ran parallel to the block. Then I found it. Seven. Lucky number.

When I found the grate that led directly above his cell, it felt like a weight was released from my chest. I was only able to get a passing glance at him through the metal slide that was cracked open just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his decaying face.

He was chained by the neck, tied like a dog to the wall. Forced to stand upright in the corner, a restraint jacket kept his movement limited. Seeing Isaac again was a relief; but I did not let myself celebrate long.

Allowing myself to transform back, the metal groaned at the change of weight, nothing too suspicious thankfully— but the change in size made it so it was now a rather tight squeeze, any movement I made had me fighting to not make any noise as my body hit the walls of the vent.

At least now I could say I understood why claustrophobia was a thing.

The metal bent out of the way as I ripped it gently, careful not to drop it, only force it open so I could drop down, not so much that it would fall down and make a lot of noise. Then I moved over the opening in a way that allowed me to drop feet first down below.

The moment my boots hit the tile, the sound was muffled by a layer of dust and rot. I stood up from my crouched position and walked toward him, brushing the grime off my clothes as I did. I was actually quite giddy in all honesty, shocked I managed to pull this off and get to him.

Isaac didn’t look up at first. But he did lurch forward at the noise of me dropping down, chain rattling, reaching forward I gave the metal a sharp pullpull— the iron shrieked, and the links snapped like brittle wire. That was easy enough. My pace in moved back away from him slowed without meaning to. For a second, I forgot to move.

He was…different.

Last time, he’d looked like a corpse still halfway in the grave— slack-jawed, patchy hair, his skin rotted so thin I could count every bone in his face. But now… both eyes were back, dark and sharp, studying me from under a mess of curls starting to grow in again. The color hadn’t returned to his skin yet— it was still corpse-pale, bruised with gray and blue— but the shape of him was starting to come back in, the strength in his shoulders and jaw, it was all coming back.

He was standing taller again. Almost like the boy I remembered. Thirty years gone, and somehow that old magnetic pull hadn’t died with him. God, why was I suddenly nervous? Was he always that much taller than me?

That small flicker of surprise in his eyes as he saw me snapped me out of it. I forced a crooked grin and broke the silence before it could get too heavy.

“You’ve been healing up nicely,” I said, moving behind him to undo the buckles on his restraint jacket. My fingers worked fast, though they trembled. “Sorry it took me a while to visit. Couldn’t exactly make this a school night thing.”

He let out a quiet noise— not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. It was enough to make the back of my neck prickle.

Halfway through undoing the last strap, I noticed movement in the corner. Another figure— someone I hadn’t accounted for.

The man sharing Isaac’s cell was bald, pale, and wide-eyed, like someone had carved the concept of “insomnia” into his face. He was watching us with the kind of grin that made my stomach turn. Just strangely stiff but also nodding along as if my presence in the cell was amusing.

“Ah, young love,” he chirped. His voice was high-pitched and too bright, like a balloon about to pop— it was strange mix of something almost comedic but strangely terrifying. “Nothing says romance like breaking your partner in crime out of a mental institution.”

I froze mid-knot. “Oh. I didn’t know he had a…roommate.”

He giggled— an honest-to-God giggle. “I just moved in early today— is this your first asylum breakout? How exciting!” He tapped his feet against the tile, eyes glinting. “You probably didn’t hear my heartbeat with those bat ears of yours. I’ve trained myself to be as quiet as a mouse.”

He leaned forward, conspiratorial. “Best way to stalk people, you know.”

“...That’s impressive,” I said cautiously, still working the last strap loose. “I haven’t met many who can do that.”

I haven’t met anyone who could do that.

“You flatter me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Creeping’s just a hobby.”

Wow. I’m incredibly uncomfortable. But at least he didn’t seem like the type to snitch— or maybe he was just too entertained to care.

Before I could fully pull off the jacket from Isaac, the door hissed— a soft electronic beep followed by the click of a keycard reader. My body moved before my mind did. I shrank back into my smaller form, wings folding tight, claws catching on Isaac’s shirt as I peeked up over his shoulder.

The door slid open. I held my breath.

A small figure stepped through— black attire, black braids, eyes sharp enough to cut through the dark. Of course it had to be Wednesday Addams. She walked in like she owned the place. I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn’t so confused on why she was here.

The bald man lit up instantly, turning around as she quickly undid the straps of his restraint jacket. He pulled it off of himself before folding up the jacket casually in his arms and placed it down on his bed, offering a pleased smile to the girl, “That was less than ten seconds! New family record!”

Family? I blinked. That explained the matching homicidal energy.

“We don’t have much time,” Wednesday said flatly, looking down at the watch at her wrist. “We have to find Lois.”

Without another word, she turned and left. The bald man followed, humming cheerfully to himself as if this were a casual Sunday stroll and not a breakout from a high-security psychiatric facility.

Who the hell was Lois? Actually, I didn’t care.

I really shouldn’t question fate too much, at least their interruption gave us the chance to get out ourselves, I thought I was going to have to break that metal door to get us out of here and risk causing a scene. This was probably more convenient.

Silence settled again — heavy, strange. Isaac hadn’t moved through any of it. He’d stayed still, pretending his restraints were still in place, observing the entire exchange with that unnervingly calm expression of his. Only when the sound of their footsteps faded did he finally exhale and glance down at me.

I met his gaze from where I clung to his shoulder, my small body tense, wings folded tight. He was horrifying from this size, like he could eat me in one bite if he really wanted to.

Then, slowly he reached up with one cloth-wrapped hand and brushed his fingers across the top of my head.

A gentle scratch. Careful. Tender in a way that didn’t belong in this scenario. My ears flicked back without my permission, normally I probably would have nipped at someone for petting me like I was some sort of pet, but honestly I can see why animals like this shit so much. This feels great.

He tilted his head slightly, the faintest something akin smile tugging around his rotting mouth. Setting his arm down, clearly amused by the situation before he began to peek out at the hallway checking for guards.

And when he saw a few he was quick to hide around a corner. In moment, he was still, and the next, he was gone. His body jerked forward in a blur of motion that made the air shudder. I barely had time to dig my claws into the fabric of his shirt as he lurched out of the room.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even look.

The first guard in his path barely had time to scream. Isaac grabbed him by the neck, this mouth unhinged grotesquely, and crunched. Bone and brain gave way with a wet, crushing pop that echoed down the corridor.

Oh okay— so we are going with making a scene. Got it. Fuck.

We hit the ground together, the force of it slamming the air out of my tiny lungs. I scrambled up his shoulder, dazed, my heart thundering so loud I swore it would burst out of my chest.

He was feeding.

Not the restrained, haunted Isaac I’d known— but the other one. The one that had always been buried deep down. A mindless, gnashing monster that tore into the man’s skull like it was fruit. The sound was unbearable— wet, rhythmic, primal.

I wish I could say I was surprised. But this whole thing with cracking skulls open seems to be a new part of his brand. We’ll work on that when we aren’t mid escape-heist I guess.

The alarm blared before I could even think. Red light flooded the hall, the siren’s wail stabbing through my ears like needles.

Guards poured in. Shouting. Gunfire. Chaos. Somehow the power in the whole building blew out and only the red lights from the sirens above provided light for all the guards and patients to run around aimlessly in the dark halls. It was all very overstimulating.

Isaac lifted his head slowly, gore dripping from his chin, eyes black and wild with hunger. Then he moved again— too fast, too brutal. He ripped through them like paper, like a goddamn hurricane made of teeth and muscle. I watched six men go down in the span of like three minutes, their screams swallowed by the constant, shrieking siren.

And then he moved quicker than he ever had before— stalking down the corridor, straight into the gunfire, disappearing around a corner in a blur of movement and crimson. Some droplets even getting on me as I held onto his back for dear life.

I had one thought left through all the static in my head: Tyler. Take advantage of the chaos and grab Tyler.

Adrenaline shoved me off his shoulder. I folded my wings and launched, beating into the chaos, clumsy and panicked in the small dark. My bat-tips sliced rain and smoke; the siren lights smeared into halos. I remembered the floor plans — the vents, the corridors — the map was a faint chalk under the adrenaline. I darted above the mayhem, teeth clenched, trying to orient myself. I had one other monster to free.

Was I fucked up to have found this weirdly threaputic? In the traumatic way exposure therapy could be. I don’t know I’ve never gone to therapy and probably should be medicated for some form of a stress disorder if this somehow was the most terrified and free I’ve felt in years.

Speeches and schoolwork wasn’t as bad as I thought it was now that I saw how awful life could really be if it really tried fucking with me.

Down the side corridor, wards had either emptied or erupted; people were running or being hauled off by medics. Sobs, shouts, the metallic scrape of gurneys— it was all a wrong symphony.

I dove lower, skimming past a toppled cart, past abandoned clipboards, and then— caught in a sickening, bright way— there was another scene I had not wanted to imagine.

Laurel Gates' body— or what used to be Laurel Gates— lay crumpled against the white wall. Blood pooled around her like spilled ink, her face fucked up from last time. Tyler loomed over her, Hyde-made and monstrous: pale, hunched, limbs too long and ending in dark, wicked claws that still dripped. He had thrust her into the wall, and the force had left her with the final look of somebody who'd been surprised to find her end.

The scene was awful.

It was not as if I was grieving the loss of her, if anything this fate was too good for her, but moreso the horror of what Tyler had done.

The curse that hung over any Hyde who outlived the thing that controlled them: a Hyde that kills its master severs whatever thread kept it anchored to whatever humanity remained. The monster becomes a quick, self-consuming spiral. No master meant no anchor. Insanity steeped and finished the work.

It meant Tyler had signed his own death certificate. His life, already frayed and short, would flare and snap.

For a second, I could not breathe at all. Numbness boxed me in; my wingbeats faltered. The tiny bat-body felt absurdly useless, like trying to stop a sinkhole with cotton. The sight of Tyler there— unchained in some inner madness, blood on his claws— made my vision go hot at the edges. He looked up, and his bloodshot eyes met mine. There was something animal in it, something horribly aware and not aware at all.

My instinct did something stupid and absolute: I wanted to fix it. I knew better than anyone how stupid that was. I also knew I couldn't let him rot into whatever came next without trying.

I dropped from the air and re-solidified into human form— a rough, breathless wrench of movement that left me dizzy and shaking— landing in the blood-slick puddle that seeped just beyond the metal bars that had this hallway on lockdown. I staggered forward and gripped the bars.

He bared those too-sharp teeth of his, but I forced my voice into something steady, into the tone people use when giving instructions in a crisis.

“Tyler. Listen to me,” I said, not understanding how my throat didn't break. “Don't stay here. Go down the left corridor. After the second opening— make a right. That leads to the main hall where you can go either way to find a fire exit, you can get outside and lose yourself in the pines. Avoid the main gates. Avoid the towns or houses. Hide in forest. Do not stop. Do not turn back. Don’t even be seen. Run. I’ll go out and find you later I swear it.”

He cocked his head like a hunting dog that was trying to decide if a thrown stick meant food or death. The Hyde made a sound— a low, hunted rumble— and for an instant the creature seemed to weigh my words. Something flickered in his expression: confusion, recognition, then rage. He snarled, claws scraping iron. Then he turned, limbed and wrong, and ran. He moved like a shadow tearing a seam in the world, and when he passed the last light I had of him, I felt the silence like a window closing.

And then reality slammed back in. Laurel's body at my feet, her eyes glassy, her mouth still open in a hole where breath used to be. My hands— my human hands— were trembling. My palms were clean with gore from tonight, though I had not partook with the horrors Isaac and Tyler caused, it was like I could still feel the tack of it under my nails. I hadn't screamed. I hadn't fainted. I didn’t even cry. I was on autopilot: go, find Isaac, get the hell out of here, do not let the threads unravel.

But the sight of Tyler tearing Laurel in half had cut a line through whatever calm I had been clinging to. For a moment, I hovered at the edge of breakdown: images, thirty years of grief compressed into a single screamless second, the knowledge that I'd just sent Francoise’s baby into a fate I couldn't undo.

Fear for Tyler didn't override my other fear: Isaac was loose, Isaac was a killing thing in the halls, Isaac could be taken, captured, killed. I had to get back to him before they corralled him— before they dumped sedatives or strangling leather over him and took him somewhere more icy and clinical and permanent.

I ran. Fast, boots on tile, the world a blur of white-painted walls and discarded IV lines. The corridor seemed a hundred times longer on the way back, as if the hospital itself were stretching to swallow me. The alarms shredding the air, the distant screams— blurred into a single, suffocating roar. Willow Hill had turned into a maze of red lights and shadow, bodies and broken doors. I didn’t even know where I was on anymore. The air was hot and metallic, thick with gunpowder and blood. Every corridor looked the same: white walls smeared red, fluorescent bulbs flickering like dying stars.

“Isaac—” I tried to call out, but the word cracked halfway out of my throat. My voice was too young for this place. Too small.

I rounded another corner, nearly tripping over a dropped baton, my pulse loud enough to drown the sirens. Then I saw him— half-crouched in the hallway ahead, his hands and chest painted in someone else’s blood. He looked wrong and perfect all at once. Still breathing, still standing. Relief hit me so hard it almost buckled my knees, but the feeling didn’t last long.

Before he could even turn, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the nearest open door. We stumbled into what looked like an office—b ig, dark, the smell of wet paper and dust lingering in the air. I shoved the door shut and leaned against it, chest heaving.

Lightning flashed outside, throwing the room into brief, violent clarity—file cabinets, books, an overturned chair. Then darkness again. Of course there was a fucking storm right now, as if to match exactly how my night was going.

The only sound was our breathing, ragged and uneven. He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, though it wasn’t quite human warmth.

My lungs burned. The air felt too thick, the space too small. Every heartbeat in the building felt like it was pounding directly into my skull. I tried to steady myself, to think, but everything was blurring together—sirens, thunder, gunfire, Isaac’s breathing, my own.

I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth, trying to hold the panic in. I couldn’t even form words. My chest felt too tight. The world was tilting. I really fucked things up, didn’t I?

Isaac shifted in front of me, lowering his head to meet my eyes, studying me with an expression that didn’t belong to the creature he’d been a few minutes ago. His brows knit, that strange, quiet concern flickering through the monstrous stillness. His hand twitched toward me but stopped short, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

“I-I’m fine,” I lied, or tried to. The sound came out jagged, breathless. “We just— we need to get out of here—”

The door creaked.

Isaac’s head snapped toward the sound. I froze.

Dr. Fairburn pushed Stonehearst in front of her, the dazed and groaning as she pushed him safely by her desk. Rain blew in from the window, streaking the light across her face as she rounded the table. Her expression was carved from stone. When she opened the drawer and pulled out a handgun, the metallic click of it chambering echoed like a thunderclap in my skull.

My pulse spiked. I clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my breathing.

Before I could even think about how we could get out of this, Isaac moved. A shadow cutting through the dark— fast, feral, soundless. He lunged toward them, the air around him snapping with energy.

“Isaac—wait, not her—!” I lurched forward, reaching for him, grabbing at his sleeve—

Fairburn had screamed. Then gunfire tore through the room.

The first shot felt like fire. The second is like drowning. By the third, my brain stopped keeping count.

The world shattered into light and pain. The impact spun me halfway around, my body jerking against the wall. My chest exploded with heat, like my ribs had turned to molten glass. The sound of my own heartbeat was gone— replaced by a ringing so sharp it felt like it was drilling through my skull.

Something wet ran down my cheek, and I couldn’t tell if it was blood or tears. I tried to look—tried to see—but my right eye wouldn’t open, and everything else was a blur of shadows and movement. My knees buckled. My hands came away slick when I tried to press them to my chest. And reaching for my right eye, I could only find a large drenching hole, so deep I could stick my fingers deep into my own skull, feeling my own gray matter.

Oh god, I can’t see. There was only that damned color. Red.

I couldn’t think. Not in any way that made sense. It was like my mind had been pulled out of my skull and dropped into a storm of fire and static, a buzzing so loud I could feel it in my bones. Every inhale was a stab to the lungs, each exhale tasting like burnt iron and smoke. My senses screamed at me, sharp and overwhelming, but I couldn’t make sense of them.

I tried to call Isaac’s name. My throat worked, but the sound didn’t reach me. My ears were deaf to it. The only thing I could hear was this defending, pounding in my own head that felt like someone was bashing my head with a sledgehammer, over and over again.

The only thing that existed was the red, deep and alive, pulsing in the corners of my vision, staining everything.

Red. That color, what a pretty shade of red.

And then there was the hunger. Not normal hunger— not a gnawing or craving— but a fire, a twisting, clawing, unbearable need that consumed every thought. My stomach tied itself in knots, my throat dry and aching. My teeth hurt in anticipation, longing for the metallic, intoxicating taste that taunted me just in front of me.

When my body lurched forward, I think I ran into something, dropping to my knees, pinning it to the ground. My hands moved as though possessed, grasping blindly for what called to me, pulling that thing towards me. I could feel the warmth, the life pulsing in front of me, and I sank into it without thought, without reason. Warmth rolling down my dry throat, enough to sedate but not satisfy. I just ate. It was dizzying, euphoric, terrifying. The red still smeared across my sight, the world collapsing into a haze of smell and sensation and need.

Time didn’t exist. I had no idea how long I had been like that. Eating. The ringing in my ears faded only to reveal my heartbeat, frantic and loud, hammering in my chest. My mind was trapped inside my own reflexes, moving, consuming, acting without thought.

And then…cold. My body shivered violently, shaking from head to toe. Leaves crunched beneath my boots—or maybe they weren’t leaves. Maybe I was outside. But when had I finally stopped being hungry? I leaned against a solid weight, something steady and warm. My arm looped around it, letting it guide me, letting it be my anchor.

My head throbbed with a dull, monstrous ache, like someone had split it open and stitched it back together wrong. The world came back in pieces— colors first, then sounds, then pain. My skin was still finishing knitting itself together, the raw edges sealing, nerves sparking as they reconnected. Every blink dragged like sandpaper against my eyes.

Blinking, my eyes finally began to focus, just barely. There he was—Isaac. His face pale, still marked by the horrors of his confinement, but human again in a way that made my chest tighten. His eyes found mine, sharp and assessing, and for the first time since the chaos. My breath came in ragged pulls, the panic and exhaustion spilling out in shallow gasps.

He didn’t speak, but his presence was enough, a steadying force in the storm of my mind. Even as I came back, wobbly and unsteady, he guided me, supporting me, letting me lean against him as though we were the only two left in the world. The rain outside hit the trees in steady drumming, cold droplets trickling in, and I shivered, still disoriented but slowly aware of the world around me.

I leaned into him, letting myself be led, my senses still raw and trembling, still tasting the fire in my veins. My body was mine again, but my mind still rattled, still unsure. And yet, with him there, with him steady and grounding, I could begin to pull myself back from the edge.

I blinked again, my voice barely finding its way past the dryness of my throat. “H-Huh? Isaac… weren’t we just—ah!” The motion of speaking sent pain knifing through my skull. I clutched at my head, trying to keep it from splitting open all over again. “Weren’t we just at Willow Hill? Where—where are we going? Have you seen Tyler—”

I looked over my shoulder, my eyes searched the rain-heavy horizon. The institution was gone. Just trees, mud, and fog. My confusion twisted into dread as I noticed the drag marks behind Isaac— slight grooves carved into the mud. And then I saw what he was dragging.

It was a person, wearing what should have been an all white jumpsuit. One arm was bent the wrong way.Head lolling with every step, at least I think that was. It’s whole front was completely caved in, something cracked the ribs open, insides carelessly hallowed out like a beast ate at the mess. From chest, to throat, it was all one giant hole of red and pink.

The thunder gave me just enough to make it undiable who face was stuck in that still, horrified expression. Fairburn.

My stomach turned. “Oh my god…” I whispered, stumbling back, my hand slipping from his arm.

Isaac stopped. The corpse fell into the mud with a sick, wet thud. The rain hissed around us, pooling at our feet. He head tilted slowly upward, his face unreadable in the storm’s half-light. I wanted to ask him what happened, but I looked down at myself before I asked such a foolish question.

I looked down at myself. My hands. My shirt. Everything was soaked red. The blood clung to my skin in tacky layers, thick even under the rain. I wiped at my lips, but I felt as more blood smeared across my jaw.

My mouth tasted of iron. Oh my god.

I still had bits of tissue and organs all over me. On my chest, hands, face, my hair. I was shaking too much to pick it off. I didn’t even want to scream, I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.

Fairburn’s face stared back at me through the rain—blank, slack, and wrong. The water slid over her eyes, but she didn’t blink. The rain was washing her clean, but not fast enough. I couldn’t stop staring.

I felt full.

Not satisfied—just full. Heavy in the gut, thick in the throat. The taste of metal clung to my teeth, sweet and rancid at once. Every breath brought it back again.

I thought, distantly, that I should be sick. That people were supposed to cry, scream, do something when they saw what I was seeing. But I couldn’t move. My stomach twisted, but nothing came up, I didn’t want it to. To taste the blood as it crawled back up from my throat and to my tongue, I couldn’t handle that again. I just stood there, rain pooling at my feet, the cold crawling up my bones.

Isaac didn’t say anything at first. Just reached out— slowly, deliberately— until his gloved hand cupped my face. The rubber was damp and cold against my skin, grounding me just enough to feel the tremor in my jaw. He tilted my head up, making me look at him instead of her.

“Shh,” he murmured, the first word I’d heard from him in thirty years. His voice was rough and low, his vocal cord unused for decades made the sound of his voice gurgle deep in his chest. “It’s alright now.”

The sound of it cracked something in me.

“You’ve been through enough,” he said softly, almost soothing. His thumb traced my cheek, then paused to pick away a clotted strand of something from my temple— slow, meticulous, like he was tending a wound. The motion made my stomach tighten again, but I didn’t stop him.

“There we go…” His tone was gentle, careful. “You really do wear this color so beautifully.”

The rain ran in little rivers down his face, cutting through the grime, glinting off the exposed bone under his jaw where skin had begun to peel. The faint, mechanical tick of his heart filled the silence where mine should have been.

He brushed his fingers along my hairline, tugging loose another bit of congealed meat. The motion was oddly tender—too gentle for what it was. My body didn’t know how to react; I just stood there, cold and trembling, while he worked like someone cleaning up after a meal.

When he finished, he leaned closer until his forehead rested briefly against mine. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “With me. I’ll handle this, just leave it to me…”

His rotting mouth brushed the crown of my head—a faint, deliberate press, not warm but steady. The contact left a trace of blood between us that the rain couldn’t quite wash away.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The only thing I could feel was the weight of his hand at the back of my neck, keeping me steady, keeping me here.

And for the first time since waking up, a single clear thought passed through my mind:

What have I done?

tag list: @star-girl-interlud3 @helaenabugmom @gojoswaterbottle @7775sblog @thenightshxdewitch @moon-zoons @milkyd0e @dilfsandtherapy @criminalyetminimal @widowmakerow @anna-bxtch @sugarysc @doorknobhater @savvyisss @creepy-story-lover28 @vixenxlovesxyou @flydzrry @osball @flirtysnakes @lagoonia @jcaspertheghost @lunaryasha @chaos-istheonlyway @elleclairez @sweetbunnyheart @speakercosplays @sawendel @jxkerhaha @ratgirlcunt @onlyangel-444 @sunset18rose @lghtsup13 @sleepy-rabit @devinitysann @aphroditesdevotion @chishiyas-wig @liv2660 @ashton-laufeyson @starrystormwritings @serapinaxx @raeraetoday @lcvecstiel @sxlsvv @selmachoukri @mylife-isafxckingjoke @bitterinkandblood @riffcrusader @wanda-maxamommy @totallysocially @afternoonfairy @bloodyziggy

mecobee

How I feel like opening tumblr before going to sleep just to find this gem waiting for me

(Sleep has been postponed)

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

mecobee