[ TXT ] I still can’t believe you'd rather not fail out of med school than bar hop with me. [ TXT ] You didn’t miss anything though. You might have had the right idea staying in.
No matter how many times he’d admit that, Thomas would never turn down the offer of a night spent drinking. Truthfully it didn’t even have to be out at the bars, but he thought that more socially acceptable than taking shots alone at home.
A nodded goodbye to the others staggering out into the night, Eichhorst absentmindedly flicked the mute switch on his phone back and forth. He briefly considered getting a last drink or two at the bar between himself and home - he could still walk a straight line, after all - but the chill in the air quickly changed his mind.
[ TXT ] I’ll be back in 20 or so - taking the scenic route home.
He shook his head. Scenic route, my ass. It was the creepier route, if anything. The quicker road went through the city but at this time of night it would be a gauntlet of drunks and police officers. Despite the temperature, cutting through the park sounded preferable. It always did.
Maybe another drink would have made this easier, he thought, stopping at the edge of the grass. Thomas wasn’t afraid of the dark, but without the lights that usually lined the path working, the pavement seemed to stretch out into nothingness and it made the man’s stomach knot up. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, swallowed hard, and began his way through the trees.
Halfway across the park came quickly enough and when the streetlights came into view in the distance, he almost laughed aloud at his previous concern. He’d taken this route plenty before - why had an extra bit of shadow given him such pause?
crack
Eichhorst froze, the giddy relief that replaced worry wiped away in an instant. He slowly turned, expecting to come face to face with some horrible monstrosity. Truthfully, even someone with a weapon would be a welcome sight to what he thought lurked in the dark. Though he was certain he’d heard something, the space behind him was empty, a sight that prompted him to turn heel and resume his brisk walk towards the city streets.
crack
A terror like never before gripped him. His body went ice cold. Before he could yell or break into a sprint or do anything, a breathy gurgle oozed over his shoulder. Breath caught in his throat, sheer panic held him in place and brought tears to his eyes. With the smallest movements possible, he reached for the phone he’d put away. As fingers wrapped the device, the man heard already faint sounds of flesh against concrete growing quieter and quieter. The very air around lightened. He pulled his phone from his pocket and ran.
Not seconds later Eichhorst hit the ground, cheek striking the sidewalk, phone sliding into the grass away from him. The breath was torn from his lungs. He tried to dig fingernails into the path as he felt something grab his ankle and begin pulling him backwards, only succeeding in bloodying his hands.
Dragged into the trees and out of sight from most of the park, Thomas’ voice returned to him. He still scrambled for anything to grab onto, only coming up with fistfuls of dirt and leaves. A panicked outcry was all he could manage before the harsh grip on his leg was released and another caught him by the throat.
You’ve been stabbed, he told himself, gut twisting when the lightest contact against his forearm brought harsher pain than his aching cheekbone and ribs. The hold on his neck was nothing to this. Fate took pity and before Thomas could again feel what seemed like a scalpel digging into him, everything went black.
Light. Eichhorst brought a hand up, further blocking out the sunrise. He turned over, reaching his extended hand out to hook over Werner. When his arm met nothing, barely shut eyes quickly opened.
Dirt. Trees. Blood...blood? Thomas squinted at the open gash down his forearm. Dirt clung to his skin, held in dried crimson streaks. He grimaced, forcing himself to stand. Immediately, hands went to pockets and his heart skipped a beat. No phone. He flinched as his wound brushed his shirt, hands shifting to pat back pockets. No phone. No phone. No phone.
He staggered to the sidewalk, scanning the ground around for any sign. Luck apparently turned on its head from the events of the night previous Thomas couldn’t even recall, he spotted his cracked phone in the grass only feet away.
“...Werner?” The man’s voice was shaky, uncertain. The pain of injuries he couldn’t even see had hit him full force not long after his slashed arm had. He moved the phone to his other shoulder so it no longer pressed against his skinned cheek. “I’m...headed home.”
|| @artuated ||