D A N G E R Black Writer

Plot: A storm is brewing in Valentine, and you’re in the middle of it. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Harry and there’s already been a horrendous murder. With tensions high and everyone finger pointing your ex, Edmund, makes everything worse by spreading gossip. With the sting of rejection still weighing heavy on your heart you attempt to clear everything up only to make things worse.

Describing your mood as sour would be a understatement. You were numb. A grey cloud loomed over your usual cheery exterior as you went through day to day activities. Whenever someone asked if you were alright you’d chalk it up to trivial excuses. When in actuality you were torn that you’d been stupid enough to try and have a picnic with a killer. If you were sane maybe you’d tell the Sheriff and get some of his boys in uniform to smoke Harry out somehow but you had no taste for revenge. All you wanted was to move on.

But it seemed your ex had other plans. You worked in the diner, usually taking up the night shifts to rid yourself of boredom. As you were cleaning a table you overheard a couple chatting away about you of all topics. Why your name was in their mouths you didn’t know but from what you got out of it made you want to raise hellfire.

“I heard she goes down there every night to see that killer.”

“Edmund said that the sherif saw her go in with food and came out empty handed.”

“No way, maybe she’s a killer.”

There’s no way you could allow these two peons spread such outlandish babble. You’ve never killed anyone nor would you ever. The thought of murdering another made you sick to your stomach. “Edmund is a long-nosed good for nothing asshole who spends his time making up calumniations and dumping his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day for a dumb blonde with a baby voice. You two and the rest of your bubble headed friends would be fools to believe anything that comes out his mouth.” You finish with a astute turn into the back for a extensive smoke break.

If you saw Edmund or that sleazy sheriff you’d be sure to give them a piece of your mind. And speak of the devil, there he was. Your blood was replaced with boiling water as you stomped your way towards him. He was with the sherif and some other random cop you didn’t know. Both of them saw you coming and started to drift apart before you whistle and jogged towards the two snakes.

“Where we going boys? Running away from the new killer of the town?”

“Now listen Y/N I didn’t mean to start anything.” The sheriff assured.

You weren’t impressed. “You’re just the last one seen in the mines so...it makes sense.” Edmund shrugged.

“And you were the last one fucking the blonde bimbo you cheated on me with and she has crabs....so it makes sense right?” You snap back garnering a chortle from the other cop.

“It’s not my fault you’re a boring bitch who can’t get anyone to date you except for some psycho?!” He growled.

“I’m not dating anyone and I’m not a killer. Instead of gossiping like little girls how about you three go investigate and find the real killer.” You throw down the cigarette and stomp it out beneath your heel.

“We apologize if we’ve caused you any trouble Miss, we’re doing the best we can.” The Sheriff whispered.

“Keep my name out your ass licking mouths and out the fucking paper.” You demand before walking back inside the diner.

After your shift you began to walk home. The ominous glow of streetlights did little to scare you. On your way to you lovely home you stopped by the liquor store. A bit tipsy you ventured the winding fucked up roads. The quiet sounds of the night were ruined by the sounds of sirens. It had been what? 72 hours and some change since the last murder what the hell could the coppers be speeding for? Even in your mildly drunken stupor you noticed where they were heading. The mines. Sober you would’ve kept walking like any sane person but you were running on anger, worry, and rum. A mix that didn’t bode well when making good decisions.

You knew a shortcut through the trees and made haste. By the time you fought through flora and fauna two cars were already there. The sheriff and Edmund were there holding lanterns and guns. You step out from behind the trees, face bathed in red and blue lights. Softly stepping towards the shit show. “What the fuck are you two asswipes doing?!” You call out as you make your way to the entrance of the mine. Before they can stop you you’re in front of the cold entrance.

“You protecting your boyfriend again?” Edmund spat as he loaded his gun.

“You don’t have a gotdamn clue who killed those two. It takes you dumb mother fuckers months to even get close to closing a case!”

“We know he’s down there Y/N and he’s gonna fucking burn for what he did. And if you gotta burn with him so fucking be it!” He aimed the gun at you which almost made you piss yourself. You stumble back as he aims it at you. The thumping of your heart beat in your ears.

“I’m not you enemy! And neither is he!” Your words were bold but hoarse.

“That son of a bitch killed family. I don’t care what you think he’s going to die, and if I have to shoot you to get to him I fucking will!” The sheriffs attempts to calm down Edmund were futile. He had his eyes on you. They were large and red and full of rage. He looked like a rabid animal and you his prey.

“...You’re angry I get that but this is a mob attack not a lawful pick up. You have no evidence-“

“DONT GIVE ME A FUCKING LESSON IN LAW BITCH I AM THE FUCKING LAW!” He shot at the ground beneath your feet sending dirt into your eyes. The muffled scolding from the sheriff did nothing to stop your beating heart. In fact there were bigger problems.

Another shot cracked through the night sending you to the ground covering your head. The grotesque sound of choking made you gag. The Sheriff was on the ground, clambering hands grabbing at the gaping hole in his chest as he bled out. Edmund was in shock. He held the man’s dead hand with wide eyes. Perfect time to get away. You book it into the mines. It was dark and cold, even chillier with a fresh murderer on your heels. At first you didn’t hear him but a shot echoed through the caves followed by some demands for you and Harry to reveal yourselves. That wasn’t happening so you keep running, ducking into random corridors to try and throw him off your trail.

Apart of you was afraid of running into Harry. What if he was angry at you? Running into one killer to escape the other was a chance you really didn’t want to take. You’d rather wait it out and hide. Hopefully Harry would take care of Edmund and you could run away without interacting with either of them. You stop running to hide in a old mining cart that was turned over. Covering your mouth with shaking hands you listen. A heavy set of footsteps past you, Edmund more than likely. It wasn’t like Harry to be so loud. He taunted what you assumed were the shadows to face him like a real man. He didn’t really see him right? You wish you could peek but you were far to afraid you’d get your head blown off.

“So that’s what you look like. Y’know it’s crazy. You don’t look like a monster.” He cocked the gun. “Tell me how you did it. How you killed my dad you fucking monster.” He demanded.

There was no response on Harry’s end. You hear something fall to the ground and then Edmund’s smug laughter. What the hell was going on? You quietly peak from out your hiding space. The minimal lighting made the scene hard to make out but by the looks of it Harry had...given up. He had thrown his pick axe ahead of him, taken off the mask, and dropped to his knees. A gloved hand on the barrel of the gun pointing it to his head. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was he insane? Edmund goes into a end game spill about how long he’s waited to do this. How he’d pin the Sheriff’s and I’s murder on Harry and walk out the mines a hero. During this you start to crawl towards them, ready to rush him or throw a rock, anything to buy Harry time. Your chest is tight as you hold your breath. Nearing the both of them as quietly as you possibly can. Edmund cocks the gun and says something to the effect of “everyone dies, somebody should’ve take your sorry ass out long ago.” Before you hear a shot.

It hits the ceiling once you use all your might to swing Harry’s pickaxe into Edmund’s head, through his cheek. The blast was so close to Harry he fell back in pain. Edmund leans on the wall holding the left side of his face, still turned away from you. When he does look at you all the blood drains from your body. His tongue hung from the broken jaw like a salivating dog, torn flesh dangled around missing teeth, with so much flesh exposed blood spritzed out every time he moved closer to you. He couldn’t move his jaw so when he spoke it was a gurgled cacophony of rage and disbelief. You lift the pick axe once more but see him lift the shotgun and take aim. This makes you freeze like a deer in headlights. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But to your surprise it never comes. Instead Harry had gotten up and tackled him, only problem was that he got shot.

The two men fell to the ground. Edmund kicking him off and frantically reaching into his pocket for two more shells. Without thinking you kick the gun from his hands. He tried to get up but you stomp on his chest with all the rage bottled up inside. He looks up at you with that mangled face and large eyes but mercy was the last thing on your mind. You look over him, raise the crude weapon, and allow the cold metal to pierce through his chest. You let out a exasperated scream as you continue your onslaught. Hammering down years of neglect, wasted time, slander, and abuse into what’s left of his broken body. When you’re done he’s left torn apart. Rib cage broken and organs exposed. In all the madness you vomit from the stress and overall exertion of energy you used up. The groans from Harry snap you back to reality and you go to aid him.

“Oh god oh shit hold on hold on.” You ramble. Your hands try their best to cover the wound. He was shot in the side. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit but without medical attention it was gonna get nasty. You use Edmund’s jacket to help stop the bleeding. He was just staring at you. “What? What the hell are you gonna yell at me for now???” You yell trying not to cry. He lifts a bloody hand to your face.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z

Wrote all this at 3 AM so I hope it isn’t to bad!

- At first he’ll be confused. Yes you were his and all that but why did you always want to be around him? He’d complain at first. Isolating himself more often, sighing in annoyance when you nuzzle into him, refuse your advances to hug or kiss him gently, but he could only stay away from you for so long.

- You’re just so darn cute! After an explanation about your feelings you’ll find he’s far more open to your obsessive behavior since it matches his.

- You’ve opened Pandora’s box so prepare for optimal clingy behavior. Oh you’re doing something important? No you’re watching him lift heavy stuff because he knows you enjoy that. Reading? That’s for nerds talk to him he misses your voice. How dare you attempt to sit by your lonesome! Harry’s there to silently sit you on his lap and not let you go

- Oh but you’re fully prepared. Is he busy being weird in the mines? You’re there talking his ear off about some new interest. Taking a shower without you? A sin you’re hopping in.

- Killing doesn’t stop just because you’re with him. If you’re crazy enough to head down to the mines on Valentine’s to lure victims in you’re definitely gonna score a make out sesh (possibly without the mask depending on how you do)

- Whenever he spends the nights in your bed it’s a fight to get comfortable. He always wants you in his arms as close as possible even if it means smothering you! You wanna cuddle him sometimes but he’s to strong so you end up smushed between his chest and broad arms.

- It’s always a competition to see who can one up each other with praise or kind gestures. You end up winning but he’ll cheat by taking off the suit here and there...c’mon you can’t beat that...

Plot: After a couple of days you gather up the courage to visit your new best friend!

Warnings: Angst

You couldn’t get the events of that night out of your mind. It all just felt too surreal. Whenever you passed your ex there were no hard feelings. In all honesty no matter what he’d do to flaunt in front of you affected you much. Your mind was only concerned with the events of that night. In all honesty you haven’t felt so jovial with anyone or anything for a long while. It was as if you’ve found your purpose or some long term something to look foreword to. You were determined to help the mysterious Harry Warden guy out. You just had to find a way to do it.

For days you’ve been stumped. Your mother always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach...what did he eat anyway? Did he have any preferences? You wouldn’t expect him to. The poor thing had been living off of dried rations and soot water for so long he would probably be grateful for anything. But still you didn’t want to mess this up. What if he had allergies? Breaking news! Woman kills serial killer with banana bread, justice served sweet by a deadly treat! In the end you went with some homemade honey bread, fresh apples, and cool water.

Before you could start your adventure into the mine you had stopped by the florist for a small bouquet of flowers. You made sure none of them were roses and even read about their meaning before purchasing them. The last thing you wanted was him getting offended by your gestures. From here your path was set. Or so you thought. Midway there the sherif stopped you.

“Morning, where you headed dressed all fany?”

“To the mines....”

“And what’s a pretty thing like you doing going to those filthy old mines with flowers for?”

You fight the urge to tell the old fart to fuck off and put on a toothless smile, lips barely curled as you fought back hellfire. “To honor the souls lost down there.” You say as innocently as one could lie. For a moment you’re sure he’s gonna tell you it’s to dangerous for a pretty little thing such as yourself to be in the mines but he shrugged.

“You be careful down there, and make sure not to go to far!” He called out as you quickly scamper past him.

Finally no distractions. A complete foreign panic ghost through your body as you stand between the weather front. It was like standing between heaven and hell. Only someone as optimistically stupid would enter the devils lair after barely escaping its clutches. You exhale before braving the stale air. The deeper into the lions den you went the stronger your agitation continued. Without liquid courage you felt like a sheep parading onto the slaughter. Every time you tried to hum or make any sounds to distract yourself you felt like you were being stalked. With it so dark would he know it was you? You continue onward before hitting a dead end. You sigh, perhaps he had went deeper than before into some hidden part of the mines you knew nothing of. Or maybe he was avoiding you on purpose. You much rather believe he was just busy doing whatever he liked to do and would leave the flowers and gifts down here for when he gets back. When you go to turn every fiber of your being seems to freeze.

Instead of a curious shadow you see the man practically charging at you at full speed! If not for the pickaxe you maybe could’ve thought he was running to give you a hug but he definitely didn’t seem like the hugging type! You were cornered. No loose rocks big enough to harm him, no abandoned mining tools to throw. You were completely fucked. As his form grew larger you ran through every possible way this could go down. Instead of picking a cool escape plan you panic and raise the basket whilst looking away. “ITS ME THE GIRL FROM VALENTINES DAY! IM SORRY I CAME BACK I-I BROUGHT YOU STUFF.” You yell. The steps slowed to a stumble but you didn’t dare open your eyes.

“Why are you back here?” Lucky for you he didn’t sound to angry! Yes a bit out of breath, annoyed, and confused but not in a homicidal rage.

You open your eyes and tear a smile from your trembling lips. “I told you I was going to repay you! See I brought some food and some yellow flowers, and uh-“ he doesn’t speak. He’s staring at you completely speechless. You wondered if this meant he was going to make you into miner beef jerky but he seems frozen...as if he’s short circuited.

In all honesty he couldn’t believe you had came down here on your own volition. And for what? Was this more of your empathy? Nonsense, what were your true intentions. Where you a reporter? You didn’t seem drunk like last time meaning you made up your mind to come to his personal hell.

You both kinda just stare at each other. Of course to you he’s glaring at you with homicidal intent so you feel like jello. “Is it the flowers? I know they’re kinda cheesy but I thought it could help...liven up the place.” Wow you were really bad at this whole not angering the six foot miner dude.

“I don’t care about the flowers or your gifts why are you back down here.” This time he sounded stern. Best not to sugar coat anything. Honesty was the best policy right?

“Well because you’re my friend! And friends look out for each other...”

“We aren’t friends. We aren’t even acquaintances.”

Your arms drop, the basket of goodies go down with it. Usually you were pretty good at handling your emotions. It came with the reputation. But something about him got to you, struck a nerve you didn’t know was there.

“Don’t you dare.”

It was coming

“C’mon stop it...”

Oh no there’s no stopping it they were coming

“Ok ok ok....thank you. This was very....thoughtful.”

And scene.

“I know. Everything’s homemade or homegrown.” You flaunt finding a flat surface to sit down on. You put the bread on a plastic plate and wait for him to join you. Instead he just stares...relentlessly. Had he never been to a picnic...like ever? You pat a spot and he slowly finds a comfortable position to sit in. You tear a piece of the bread off for yourself and get to munching. Maybe he needed a invitation to eat. He didn’t move. All he did was stare. “You know you can eat right?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

You flinch at his sudden hostility making things awkward. “I-I was just saying...you aren’t eating anything...” you huff.

“I’m not hungry.”

Bullshit! Full on what? Cave bugs and stale crackers? Was it about his face? “If it makes you feel any better I ca-“

“Why the hell would you care how I feel? Stop acting like you’re my fucking savior! I cried in front of you one time! That doesn’t make us friends and it sure as hell doesn’t make me not want to drive my pickaxe through your fucking throat.”

You were speechless. Everything in you was torn. The sane side of you wanted to cry and run away, but the stubborn dumbass side of you wanted to stay put. “Fine.” You stand up and dust yourself off. He doesn’t move from that spot, not even to look at you as you leave. When the warmth hit your skin you finally let some weakness show. You were shaking. Not only with fear but with frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. How could you be so dull? Of course he wouldn’t like flowers and a meal. Maybe kind gestures were all in vain. You walk home with far less pep in your step as usual. At least with this chapter on your life closed you could try and focus on other things, although you’d be lying if you said he wouldn’t always be in your mind...

Harry Warden POV

Only when he was completely sure she was gone did he eat. Not hungry his ass he was fucking starving. But there was something eating at him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. That stupid look on her stupid little face as she walked away made his stomach turn. She didn’t even sound angry just...disappointed.

He waved it off and continued to viciously tear through everything she had provided. When he got to the bottom of the basket he was sure it was a napkin, but upon further inspection that sickening feeling returned. He unfolded the cloth and audibly groaned. She had cleaned and sewn it back to its formal glory, or at least as close as she could get to it. He could’ve possibly stomached the feeling if she had left it at that. In the middle where moths had eaten through it she had stitched a new patch. It had a little pickaxe on it. Now he recognized the stupid ass feeling.

Harry Warden NSFW Headcanons

Hey uh...I’m sorry in advance, all this was written with no sleep. Hope y’all enjoy because I had to cut a lot of stuff out lol. If you see a typo no you didn’t (/0\)

Clingy. Harry, like most slashers, is touched starved as fuck. He will never admit it but whenever he can get his hands on you he’ll touch you somehow. Cooking food? Right behind you. Getting pounded into next week? He’s holding your hand/tit/grabbing your hips. Oh we’re you reading a book on the couch? Magic trick you read on his lap. Something about how warm you always are makes him feel good. Talking of feeling....

Rubber/Latex Hear me out! Put the pitchforks and pickaxes down lemme explain. Listen the guy is 6 foot and wears a borderline gimp suit all day. Pretty sure the guy could just take clothes off one of his many victims or ask his s/o to buy some but just doesn’t because he’s comfortable in his gimp suit. Hearing your slick against his gloves/suit is certainly one way to drive him mad. Brave enough to put a rubber/latex skirt on and come down to the mines you’re not gonna feel those legs in the morning

Imitating Him. Awww you think you can be a miner adorable. Wait you can actually pick up the pickaxe? Huh you can swing it? You have a raindrop of knowledge about the mines?! You’re rambling about your fav crystals/rocks?! You’re wearing a mask?! You fool you’ve broken the man! Ladies and gentleman evac immediately he’s gone feral! Nah but tread lightly with this new power lest your poor legs be sore

Breathplay. Sorry babes but the mask stays ON during sex. It’s not even a mask anymore it’s apart of him. If he trust he may take it off to eat and grace you with his face but don’t get used to it. He might strip down to indulge you once in awhile because GOTDAMN his body is like a Greek statue, but you better get used to the mask. It’s apart of the fun for him. Stroke it or kiss it whilst he’s fucking you and w h e w you’ve just solidified Round 2

Praise. This one should be obvious. When you’re whole entire life is snatched from you and everyone in the town despises or fears you it’s kinda hard to feel appreciated for all that master slashing you do! You’d become his little cheerleader. Every little thing he did you’d be there with a cheery expression and the kindest words to say. He’s not much of a talker but he has other ways of showing you his gratitude. Tread lightly with when you praise him. After a kill he’s not exactly in the mood for romantic love making. Edge him on and considered yourself fucked into the wall whimpering for more. In the rare occurrence you’re feeling brave enough or on top call him a good boy he’ll practically melt

Marking What’s His. Now Harry ain’t about cannibalism no more but once ya try human meat the urge is hard to defeat (I’m so sorry) Don’t be surprised if after a kill or isolating himself from you for a couple days he comes in like Jaws and leaves marks all over you. You can protest about the placements all you want but he really doesn’t care. Inner thigh, outer thigh, boobs, collarbone, ass, your neck, he wants you to know all of you belongs to him even when you aren’t with him.

Biting...Again. But what if you turn the table? Now it is you marking what is yours! You better ask permission beforehand or be flung into the nether. He still is very impulsive/jumpy so any unexpected touching could end up with you beneath him in a scary but lust filled staring contest. Butttt let’s say everything magically went right! Now Harry is very dominant in nature and in the bedroom but this? This can break the man if you do it right. Anywhere around his neck or chest and you’ve hit the lottery. It won’t last forever tho so don’t be surprised when he returns the favor by tenfold. Also don’t bite his inner thigh if your down there he will squish your head like a watermelon, far to sensitive for all that attention

Housewife Kink. Before his tragedy Harry always wanted a simple more traditional life. With it so tragical ripped away from him seeing you doing something as simplistic as cleaning or cooking awakens something primal in him. He loves being pampered. Although he may groan or grunt at a worrisome s/o he can’t get enough of your attention! Oh we’re you bathing/showering alone? That’s cute scoot over he wants to join you. He’ll cover his face a lot but let you wash his hair and back.

Playing Dirty. Listen if you have anything cute you want to preserve simply never wear it around Harry. He’s a fucking soot magnet. Everything gets stained and it’s almost like he likes it that way (breaking news he does). He doesn’t care about sweat, coal, blood, spit, or cum. When he’s horny he’s horny regardless if that’s after being in the mines all day or a killing spree. In the end it all gets washed away anyway so why do you care?

Shower Sex. Despite his gross tendency to avoid a proper shower and go with a half ass wash down in the mines dirty ass communal shower after disappearing for a week you gotta either get in after making/begging him to get in or else he’s gonna join you. It’ll start off pure. A bit of poking and scrubbing. Then fingers linger a little longer, and you swipe away at them telling yourself you just want a normal shower then bam you’re being picked up and fucked until the water runs icy cold.

Plot Plot: You’ve been in a few relationships, unfortunately all ending in tragedy. You had a reputation for being a bad omen. Truly you were a sweet girl but it seemed like every single one of your lovers ended up dead or horrendously disfigured in the long run. This Valentine’s Day your boyfriend decides to jump ship for some blonde crushing the little hope you had left for your love life. In a slightly drunken haze you sneak into the mines for a rant about the cursed corporate holiday and to drown your sorrows in the solitude of the mines. But it seems like you’ve got a listener.

Tags/Warnings: Lots of cursing | Sprinkle of angst | Fluff

The cold air of the abandoned labyrinth did nothing to cool you down as you ventured further into its clutches. To put it lightly you were on fire. Every part of you wanted to tear someone apart. The auburn liquid sloshed around as you clumsily stomped past heaps of forgotten debris. If not for your drunken stupor you would’ve turned back. Everyone knew the horrific tale of the pickaxe cannibal murder. Although you were sure the story was somewhat embellished you’ve heard worse. Poor fuck did what he had to do to survive. Anyone else would’ve done the same, it’s human nature to do anything no matter how gruesome to survive.

“Give a girl a box of cheap chocolates and a fucking bouquet of withering roses and she’s supposed to repay ya by sucking your fucking dick and acting like yer the best thing since sliced bread.” You grumble.

The deeper you go the darker it gets. Stone walls become suffocating and everything looks like the enemy. A fight or flight response may have kicked in but you were in no place to think rationally. When your heel broke you fucking snapped.

“Stupid Roses, fuck ass chocolates, fake relationships for fake people who wouldn’t know love if it fucking stabbed them in the face!” You yell throwing the broken heel piece deep into the darkness. “A corporate holiday with no fucking insignificance! Just a money plot and a excuse to fuck and act like you like that worthless pathetic fuck you’re dating that you like them. When all 364 days you’ve been with em ya fucking loathe them!” You continue on tearing up the damned holiday in partially incoherent babbling until you hear glass break.

Despite your conditions you aren’t stupid. “Fuck is that?” You call out whilst backing up. At first you’re sure it’s a group of horny teenagers but through the gritty lights you see a single foreboding silhouette. This was where you run. Or at least you should’ve. Instead you squint your eyes like some tourist taking in the sights and step forward. “Bud y’know the mines are abandoned cuz of the poor guy who had to eat his friends right?” You call out. “I mean do you if this is your thing I support it but it’s kinda weird since you look exactly like the serial killer guy. Spot on cosplay.” You compliment. The figure doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. You feel your hairs start to stand up and goosebumps pepper you skin. It seems your liquid courage was fading.

“Welp I’ll leave you be, don’t wanna bore you with the details of this fucked up holiday.” You let out a wry laugh before turning your back on the figure. You get about 12 good steps in before the stride of death crescendos behind you. Now you were running. Your broken heels doing wonders at making this chase the easiest for your attacker. In the midst of running you take them off and throw them off behind you. Now look you weren’t aiming for the guy but when you heard the hit connect and a surprised grunt you got the feeling you were fucked. Instead of running in a straight line you dip into a little crawl space. Maybe he’d give up and fuck off you. To your horror the man crouches down and starts to crawl his way inside.

Without thinking you take the whiskey bottle and crash it on his head. “Leave me alone I don’t even like this fuckass holiday you fucking weirdo!” You cry. He looks up at you and stops trying to fit.

“Why not.” His voice was eerily calm. As if he weren’t some insane pickaxe murderer but a man.

“Well because it’s stupid and to lovy dovy. And because it feels wrong to celebrate it when such a tragedy had occurred.” You explain. “And...and I got dumped today so there’s that.” You huff.

“...You pity me?”

You shake your head. Words weren’t really your strong point and you didn’t need him thinking you were coddling him or anything. Instead you just stare into the glossy eyeholes with your own praying he’d just fuck off. You practically shit yourself when he continued to scramble through and stand up. You grab a rock and stand ready to knock him upside the head with it only have your wrist harshly grabbed mid throw.

“I don’t want your pity.”

This was it. You were gonna die. And it was gonna be painful and super fucking lame. On your headstone it would say:

“Loser girl no one cares about got dumped on Valentine’s Day...also got murdered lol”

Even though you wanted to sob and cry your eyes out you were way to stubborn to go out pleading and begging. “I was being empathetic you weirdo! We do what we gotta do to survive, and you did just that. You aren’t some crazy murderer. You’re just angry and traumatized and that’s ok!” The grip on your wrist only tightened. “Gah! Th-the system failed you dude. The whole fucking city failed you and still is failing you! You ha-have a right to be mad! I’m not excusing what you’ve done b-but shit I would’ve done the same!” You squeal feeling the blood flow completely cease as he tightened his grip.

Suddenly the pain stopped. You open your eyes and rub your poor wrist hoping the feeling would return. He seemed more docile. It was as if his entire aura had changed. The man sat down on a hunk of rubble, his weapon clenched in his grip. If you didn’t know better you could’ve sworn he was crying. It was a silent sob. Nothing overtly dramatic, kind of how like you’d expect a man who’s rarely cried to cry. It was unnerving. The only man you’ve ever seen cry was your dad and that was when he laughed to hard. This...this was gut wrenching.

This monster that was hellbent on killing you seconds ago was now a sad man huddled up in a corner like a child. You could never feel the pain he’s felt, relive the days of utter darkness and skewed rations. Never could you imagine the gritty taste of human flesh. The depravity one must have for themselves. The survivors guilt. The nightmares he must relive. He kept muttering something about the dark and the how he wasn’t a monster. How he just wanted to see the light again.

“It’s ok.”

You weren’t sure you could touch him so you just sat in front of him. He was still shaken up but the sound of your voice seemed to get through to him. “It’s ok and you’re safe. I’m here. I won’t go anywhere I’d you don’t want me to...” You could bare the cold for a night. You’d rather be frozen to death then brutally murdered.

Both of you sat there for what seemed like ages until he moved. You were on the edge of slumber before seeing a gloved hand slither towards yours. You wanted to move it. Make haste and dip but your body had become heavy. Your eyes seemingly weighed down by stones. Before you knew it he was oddly holding your hand. You saw him looking at you intently. Probably waiting for you to scream or pull away but you stayed put. One hand held up your head whilst the other was his to experience. It had probably been awhile since he’s been so vulnerable so you let him have this. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do tonight but sleep and pray that the hang over didn’t beat your ass in the morning. Before you could fall asleep he pulls you into a really awkward half ass embrace against the cold stained suit. It was far more comfortable than the back straining position you were in a second ago but man this guy was bad at ‘snuggling’. You felt like he was gonna smother you! When he found a comfortable position he rested that stupid ass mask on top of your head with a satisfied grunt before you gave up on protesting and fell asleep. How the hell were you gonna get home

When you wake there’s no cold embraces or odd masked men. Instead you find yourself wrapped in some dusty old quilt at the entrance of the mine. For a moment you think everything that occurred was a mere fever dream. A whiskey fueled hallucination. You scramble to your feet and notice a little note that had fallen from the tattered cloth. The paper, or what you hoped was paper and not dried human skin, had fairly neat handwriting. It was short and morbidly sweet.

Thank you.

There was a part of you that was absolutely mortified. The note solidified your suspicions of what had taken place last night. But the other part of you was strangely elated. You turn to the mine and put your hands to your mouth to amplify your words. “THANKS FOR NOT KILLING ME ILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!!!!!” You yell happily before heading back into town. You were pretty sure he didn’t hear you but it calmed you to know that he not only spared you but someone actually appreciated your presence.

This was definitely not your final encounter ⛏