𝙸 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙰𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴

an original character , mordred ulysses fontaine. p.i. ( paranormal investigator ) horror oc, taking inspiration from horror literature. this blog contains mature themes only follow if you are 21+

i became that which i despise.

lissi, 28. she, they ( refer to they if you do not know me )

she was angry with him; which was nothing new. at this point it was what he had expected from her. their relationship had become even more strained since the disappearance of their 8 year old boy. their love had been nonexistent since their sons birth. mordred had a detachment to the both of them. it was hard to place his feelings and those of the haunts that invaded him at times. the haunts that surrounded him hated the child and sometimes their feelings bled into him. it was hard to discern what was real and what wasn’t. he held his phone to his ear and stayed quiet as she hurled insults and blame. the blame he took and stacked carefully on his shoulders. he would carry it, he knew better than her how to. along with the guilt. around him he saw smiling and laughing faces of the haunts. taunting him. they thought it was hilarious how upset she was, the crying, the screaming. there was a child laughing, its arms wrapped around his middle and he felt its tiny hands dig into him, tearing him opened and climbing inside of him. he winced in pain and his free hand went to his stomach then like a man possessed he began to laugh, it bubbled out of him unwanted. it was such a harsh unfeeling sound with a gasp he stopped himself, his hand went to his mouth and she went silent on the other end. ❛ sorry. that… that wasn’t me. ❜ he tried his best to deescalate the situation. he could fee her seething rage through the phone. apologies, especially from him, especially now, meant absolutely nothing.

grief was suffocating. it swallowed you and held you down until you could no longer suck in breath all while laughing in your face and giving you false hope. sometimes, grief took a form;  much to his regret. mordred felt that he was grief incarnate and in this moment, he knew now why he was call dread.   dreadful.  he brought nothing good,   that he has known since he was young — nevertheless,  he made a soft sound of reassurance. ❛ i know,  ❜ he began,  hopeful. unlike himself. ❛ it's terrifying.  ❜ he was no good at this,  he preferred to let people cry about it,  it was easier when the outcome was less desirable;  his heart felt heavy at the sight of her. 

he cleared his throat and tried again.  ❛ you're worried, rightfully so - but you did the right thing in coming to me. i will find your son, mrs. miller.  miss - shit,  miss miller. ❜  he clicked his tongue and cleared his throat again, awkwardly - fixing his tie as a distraction. ❛ if... if he's anything like you then he's strong. ❜ the words sounded like a joke when they came out and he wished immediately that he could take them back. ❛ you're strong. ❜ he said, flatly. cursing himself.   

the pain sat in the back of his eyes, his thumbs pressed to his temples. breathing labored. ❛ no, i said i was fine, kylian. ❜ the shaking in his voice gave way to the truth. he began to smell it all too much now. the scent of decay. the scent of death was surrounding them and he had grown sick of hearing the voices. they were much too loud here. ❛ you know… ❜ he spoke after a beat of silence. ❛ they bring so much noise with them. it’s not their smiling that unsettles me — well, obviously that is unsettling. ❜ he gave a short laugh. ❛ but the dead that they bring around… it’s so loud… ❜ he presses his fingers harder into his head. ❛ sometimes — i just want to… ❜ he breathes deeply. ❛ end it. step outside and end it all — just to make it stop. ❜ he didn’t risk looking at kylian now. he knew that it would be too hard. he had never fallen this far before.