“And I did it all without cocaine!”

Though this is angsty, I would like to write different instalments for this fic, but they would all work as standalones. ( Plus tons of other fic ideas)

Let me know what you think.

Struck - H$

The clouds are still roaring above the mansion as they have hours ago, when she had woken up from the thunder. Trevor‘s head is resting in her lap, his usual quiet snores silenced by the noise outside. After she had shot up in bed around 2am he had quickly followed suit, startled by her sudden movement. If it hadn’t been for her childish fear of ordinary weather phenomenons, he surely would have stayed asleep through the whole thing; no sound could break through to Trevor once he was out. 

He had pulled her close after realising why she had risen at such an ungodly hour and pressed kisses to her shoulder, assuring her “It’s all fine, baby. I’ve got you.” Though his voice and proximity always had a soothing quality for her, she found it harder to go back to sleep today. The  lightning and thunder was breaking through the darkness outside every other minute and making Hetty wonder how the mansion could possibly withhold such violent tremors. Trevor had tried to stay awake with her, falsely claiming that he didn’t need anymore sleep, but after an hour and a half of him talking to her in order to distract her from the happenings above their heads his speech had slurred until he fell back into peaceful slumber. 

Now she was sitting up against the headboard, her hands stroking through his thick hair in a somewhat successful attempt to steer her focus. Her eyes are inspecting him closely, almost counting his hairs one by one as she tries to pinpoint each shade she can make out on his crown every time the room lights up. This task has kept her grounded for the past hour or so, but she is still hyper aware of the cord around her neck, grasping tightly and digging into her skin. It has always felt tighter when she was anxious and though it loosened earlier after Trevor had managed to calm her nerves a little, it was still drawn firmer than usual. In all honesty, nothing felt quite usual tonight. The boning of her corset dug into her skin uncomfortably, more so than on most days, the pins in her hair were pulling on the sensitive skin of her scalp and her skin had felt oddly tingly and itchy all day. 

A bolt seems to strike right above the house as the room is flooded in brightning light, almost immediately followed by a deafening roar as the energy discharges. Hetty’s hand stills in Trevor’s hair. Suddenly it feels like someone is pulling her noose taut from both sides and she is gasping for air. Her lungs are burning as she brings one hand up to her lace collar and desperately tries to get her fingers between the yellow cord and her neck. Her other hand is fisting into the sleeping mans hair. Pulling the strands and scratching his scalp until he wakes up.  

Everything around her is blurring as she tries to choke out pleas for help, but nothing comes out of her mouth. His voice breaks through to her and he sounds distant when she feels his hands coming up to her neck. Her nails are digging into her skin, failing to loosen the cord. Her vision is starting to get darker, her hands growing heavy, when Trevor rips away the lace and busts the bodice of her dress open. As he pulls the cord out of her dress she is vaguely aware of it dragging along her body, almost burning a hot line across the skin it touches. The pressure around her throat lessens the tiniest bit as Trevor unwraps the cord once… then twice … then thrice … until she is able to take a gasping breath. The air feels like it got stuck in her throat as she immediately starts coughing, still struggling for her as her body rejects every breath she tries to take. 

“Hetty! Hetty! Breathe! Please breathe! Come on, please!” Trevors voice cuts through to her and she can feel herself slipping back into consciousness. Hetty tries again, only a small breath this time and feels the cold air filling her lungs. Her lungs feel like they are on fire, but she doesn’t cough and so she tries again and again until she is able to reach a laboured but somewhat steady breath. 

Trevor is holding her head between his hands and when she lifts her gaze to meet his, she is met with his tear streaked face, before he pulls her in tight, choking out a heavy “thank god” into her hair. They stay like that for a while as she regains her breath. When she feels his tears wetting the top of her head, Hetty moves out of the embrace to look at him and he is an utter mess. A heavy feeling of shame settles in her stomach and she lets her eyes fall down as she mutters “I apologise… I don’t know… why…” Her voice is rough and each word scratches the back of her throat, as she scrambles for an explanation.