#hrrorstrie

@hrrorstrie ❤️ (for lawrence)

HE’D LOST TRACK OF TIME a long time ago. Adam had screamed at the top of his lungs for a while before he’d given up, tears streaming down his face as he’d collapsed against the cold, hard, DISGUSTING bathroom floor. This had gone on for days, and every time he woke up, he was still there. The searing pain in his shoulder was nearly UNBEARABLE. He was starving, absolutely parched; he’d give ANYTHING for just one sip of water. Maybe this so-called Jigsaw killer was right; maybe he’d been taking his life for granted.

A SUDDEN NOISE startled Adam out of his daze, and his eyes flew open, heart pounding in his chest. He was barely conscious; he couldn’t see shit. The lights had been off for days now; if they were to be turned on, he was pretty sure he’d ACTUALLY GO BLIND. But the figure in the doorway stopped all of those thoughts.

THE LIMP. The mannerisms. The way he walked. There was no doubt in Adam’s mind.

"Run?" Baffled, her voice comes out a little hoarse, maybe even irritated. She even stopped walking, despite them being in a hurry. The fact that Chris would even suggest for her to run if he got attacked was an even bigger insult than ending up destroyed by whatever it was that was persecuting them. It had grown silent, but the road was still dark and eerie, surely she wasn't the only one that felt watched.

"Are you stupid? I'm not just going to let you die without trying something." She didn't have to hit him with her elbow, but she still did, as forcefully as she could. "Whatever it is that is trying to kill us is going down." Or killing us both...

Though she said that with confidence -- and kept the more negative outcome to herself -- she had no idea of what they could do about all of this. It almost felt like they were characters in a horror movie where things weren't boding well for them. The night seemed eternal, and the group was nowhere to be found. Worst outcome already; whomever wrote this had to be a sadist, she thought. Glancing around with caution, she motions for Chris to follow slowly as she starts walking over back to the lodge -- or attempting to.

 "Well... I certainly heard worse. But, I suppose without many other options, it doesn’t matter if it is stupid or not.” Kharon hums softly, tilting his head as he looks down in thought for a few seconds before continuing, “Perhaps, if you want, I could help someone with your stupid idea.”

     “I mean, I know it’s like some sort of weird...bloodthirsty alien thing, but I guess it can be kinda cute at times,” Quentin gestured from where he and Haddie sat atop the hill, towards the Demogorgon. The creature seemed to have gotten preoccupied with a strange game of fetch with Dwight, who, despite looking clammy and anxious the whole time, was diligently keeping it entertained. It was funny, in a way, but Quentin couldn’t blame Dwight for being on edge the whole time.

     Sometimes this happened. A trial where the killer...gives up, or gets distracted, or some other unforeseen motivator convincing them that it didn’t matter anymore. It was always a surreal experience, especially due to their rarity, but it was also interesting. Once, Quentin managed a whole non-verbal conversation with the Artist, comprised of charades and dirt drawings with sticks. Only for the one trial, however. The next one was back to business, but a part of him couldn’t help the feeling of...not betrayal, when he knew it was coming, but perhaps just an empathetic conflict. But he wasn’t sure if the same will occur with a killer as inhuman as Demogorgon, anyway.

a predator's chase . another trial , another tribute . one by one they had fallen , screaming into the darkness as it swallowed them . sacrifices must be made . the matron stood before the woman , head tilted to one side as fingers tapped the blade in hand . a stranger . a new survivor .