//OOC post
I canāt believe I forgot to post this here. It was supposed to be a direct aftermath to when Devil killed Elliot for the first time. So here it is! You all can finally know what happened to him before he came into the realm.
Be warned for elements of torture, blood, gore, death, all that jazz.
Feat. @therosevilleslasher @spiritus-mortis @devil-faced-ghost
āDONāT LET IT GET AWAY!ā
āGoddamn it, you had to fucking turn your back for one second.ā
āGET THE GUN!ā Elliotās ragged breaths wheezed from his chest, his legs almost aching just as much as the prickle of his still burning skin whilst he sprinted past endless trees. How long had it been since he was taken to that horrid place? How many days had he and the others who were torn from their lives endured torture that no man should ever have to endure? Time was a lost concept before, but right now it mattered more than anything.
The boy didnāt know what the turning point was. Even when his eyes were gouged out- torn from his goddamn skull then fed to the dogs, even when he had to listen to the cries of agony of people beside him as the horrid monsters behind it all did unspeakable things to these innocent souls, he stayed put like an obedient pet. Perhaps it was when the match was struck. When he felt the heat rise through his body as flames licked every inch of his skin until he was begging for death. But he wouldnāt be granted that. No, death was a mercy. Many of the other prisoners in that cold, miserable cellar had been lucky enough to figure out ways to release their souls from the prison of their bodies. Elliot was the last of them. He had been put under a watchful eye because of his resilience, but also because of something he despised himself for.
Those monsters had been quick to figure out Elliotās odd fascination with death. Despite the fact that he wept whenever the squelch of skin being ripped apart echoed through the chamber, or when he was forced to endure some new form of torture every waking moment of that unspecified time period, Elliot was curious. Silently, he had studied each noise, each method, what made people cry louder, what shut their lights out the fastest. But the monsters found out, and they used that curiosity against Elliot. However, the tormented boy didnāt even consider that to be the worst of the torture. Not in the slightest. The isolation was without a doubt what made Elliot want to tear his limbs apart. He longed for warmth, for comfort, for someone to just hold him even if there was a knife buried in his chest. But hours after hours of silence, of darkness, of nothingness drove him insane. Elliot would beg and plead for the monsters to come back, knowing that the pain would come back worse than before, but he didnāt care. It was his life, whether he liked it or not, and any memories of his family or even returning to some form of normalcy if he somehow managed to escape shattered like glass at his fingertips, digging into his skin until it reached his bones.
When that fire shredded through his soul, it made something inside of Elliot snap. A realization, almost. A primal urge and mindset that was programmed into every human being whether they liked it or not.
āI donāt want to die.ā
Without thinking, he had charged forward, following the sounds of the monster's laughter until he tumbled to the ground with it. The monster was quick to start screaming as the fire spread onto its skin like a disease, and Elliot took that opportunity to roll on the floor until his own flames perished. With what little time he had left before the other monsters were alerted, Elliot used his fading memories to recall his position in the cellar, mapping where he needed to go in order to find the exit. His vision had been torn from him since the beginning of this hell, so his body advanced his other senses to cover what he had lost. By the time Elliot had stumbled through the doors to the cellar, he heard the other monsters screaming obscenities. He needed to get out of there. Now. āGet the gun.ā Is what he last heard before he was launched forward; foot caught on the exposed root of a tree. Pain exploded throughout his body again, re-igniting the hot pain in his skin that had almost been cooked to perfection. Fuck. It was like thousands of needles ripping through his soul at once. But he couldnāt stop. Not when he was so, SO close to freedom. The heavy footfalls of the monsters rapidly approaching sparked his determination, and despite the blistering pain, he stood up again and kept running. Elliot felt like a headless chicken, sprinting blindly with no way to see what he was in fact running toward. For all he knew, there could be a cliff nearby, and he would soon be plummeting to the bottom and explode like a gore-filled balloon. It was preferrable over dying by the hands of those monsters.
Elliot knew he didnāt have long. One of the monsters had gone to get a gun, and it was only a matter of time before his brains would decorate the forest surrounding him. As much as he tried to hold out hope, he knew there was none. Not for him. Was this karma? Had his fascination with death and torture inspired the Grim Reaper to have a nice laugh at Elliotās misery? It certainly felt like it. But he didnāt want to think about his impending doom, even though it was drumming in his heart, in sync with the resurfacing pain as his adrenaline started to dwindle. Instead of thinking about the monsters behind him, he reflected on this life of his. What it had been, anyway. He remembered in one of his college classes that the professor had talked about how a humanās brain will play their best memories in the last seven minutes of their life. Seven minutes. That was enough.
Elliot recalled his earliest āhappy memoryā. His parents had took notice to his interest in serial killers quite early on, and though they were hesitant and worried, they knew that Elliotās heart was filled with purity and empathy. So, for his 8th birthday, they had gotten him a costume of his favorite serial killer. Ghost Face. It had been decades since that man had vanished to who-knows-where, and the terror had long since died down. In the present, Ghost Face was merely another costume on a shelf, a legend covered by horror-comedy movies. But Elliot saw past the mask, metaphorically. He saw Ghost Face for who he had been; an artist. The Scream Movies were an insult to the legacy Ghost Face had left behind, and Elliotās parents had heard the story time and time again. They hadnāt gotten him a costume of the Ghostface from those movies he so despised. No, it was an almost identical replica of Jed Olsenās own shroud. Elliot was ecstatic. But he never did wear that costume. He dressed up the mannequin that the shroud had arrived on and talked to it. Hours and hours would pass by where he just sat on his bed, talking to the empty mimic of a man that had been dead for a long time. His efforts to make friends had never been successful, but after this event, he came to the conclusion that nobody would ever listen to him like Jed Olsen did. Even if all he was talking to was a cloak and a mask. Five minutes. Elliot trembled, a hand coming up to his mouth as a clump of something wet and sticky pushed itself out from his lungs. The second happiest memory that he could recall was in high school. He had applied to perform at the annual talent show, where he played a song on his beloved violin whilst his favorite teacher dueted him on the piano nearby. Her name was...
Damn it. He couldnāt remember. But she had always been so kind to him. So patient. She was the only one who had listened to him when he had nobody else. As often as he spoke to that mannequin, it could never offer anything in return. She was like a second mother to him. She was his anchor. She was... Dead. The very next day, after he had won first prize for his duet with her. A rage fit from her alcoholic husband ended with her sustaining fatal injuries after being shoved down the stairs. Elliot had cried for weeks after that, refusing to come out of his room. He didnāt even talk to Olsen. That was when he felt that bitter cold ache in his bones for the first time. Two minutes A swirling sensation crept up his spine, ever so slightly soothing the aching burns on his body as his heart pounded faster than it had before. This was different. Had he stumbled into a patch of fog? It didnāt matter. He was running out of time. The final memory that he could conjure was just before he was taken. He had loved visiting the rocky Oregon beaches every fall. There was something so calming about watching the waves repeat and endless cycle of crashing, then retreating. How the horizon seemed to be infinite, stretching across the globe until it reached... somewhere else. Elliot would draw in the sand, using seashells to decorate his creations and bring them to life. His parents had stopped coming with him after the divorce, but he had grown to enjoy the solitude. It would be what drove him insane in just days, but at that moment he felt at peace. Like if this is where it all ended, he would smile as his soul stretches endlessly like the horizon before him. Thirty seconds. He can hear the sound of a gunshot splintering the wood of a tree just by his head, then the quick attempt to reload the weapon. Elliot drowned out the ringing in his ears, letting those few memories he had left cradle him just like the fog he couldnāt see. Something was pulling him, but there was nobody touching his hand. Maybe angels were real. But this angel was too late. Timeās up. A smile worms its way onto his face as the back of his skull is incinerated by the deafening blow of a bullet. Heās on the ground in an instant, but there was no pain anymore. Just blissful numbness as the fog swallowed his body, and he couldnāt hear the voices of those monsters anymore. He could finally go home. ... ... Heās on fire again. Elliotās eyes shoot open, but only darkness surrounds him. His mouth tries to open to scream, but water floods in and it burns hotter than the surface of the sun. Everything hurt. It was all on fire. Had he never even escaped the monsters? No, that was a long time ago. This was now. He was burning from water. Water. The ocean. He was awake. Survival instincts fully kicked in, his arms get to work in a desperate attempt to pull himself to the surface. The crushing weight of the water was boiling his... skin? No. He didnāt have skin anymore. Somebody had torn it open. A face he couldnāt recognize blurred his vision more than the waves crashing over him as he surfaced. Red. Somebody red. Who was that? His mind scrambled to remember, but he doesnāt have the chance to as another wave pulls him back under. The burning grows worse. Why him? Was his life just a puppet show for death and suffering? Elliot tried to swim up again, but it hurt too much. Perhaps this is where it was supposed to end. His attempts faded along with his will to survive, and soon he was floating in the dark abyss that ached to drag him deeper. He could go home, he could be free from the pain, he could-
Something touched him. Something grabbed him. Before he could rest, Elliot was yanked out of the water by something strong. The burning ceased as soon as he was freed from the clutches of the ocean, and he was immediately pulled against something warm and firm. Warm. He had forgotten what that felt like. His senses had yet to fully recover from being dead once more, but he vaguely heard the voice of somebody... familiar. It was deep, but soothing. One that promised safety and comfort, just like the warmth surrounding him. Elliot vaguely registered that he was being held... no, carried somewhere. But it didnāt last for long. Soon enough, he felt two arms cradle his body, keeping him close to the chest of this familiar stranger. After what felt like an eternity, Elliot opened his eyes.
āThere you are...ā Daniel cooed, a gentle smile on his face as he gazed down at the boy. Elliot stared at him for a long time. Who... who was he? He knew this... the soothing voice, the protection...
āM...Mr. Daniel?ā Elliot croaked, voice sounding like he had never spoken a day in his life. The manās smile brightened a bit, one of his hands coming up to gingerly run through the ghostās hair.
āHey, kiddo. Donāt try to talk, mākay? Iāve got ya.ā He whispered. It wasnāt a suggestion, that much was certain, but Elliot wasnāt going to try anyway. Everything was just... too much right now. Why couldnāt he remember what had just happened? Why did he relive the moment that he was consumed by the fog? So many burning questions, but answers would come later. Right now, he was absorbing all the warmth that Daniel was surrounding him with. This... this is what home felt like. He never wanted to move from here ever again. And for a while, he didnāt. Daniel sat quietly on one of the cushions around the campfire, which had yet to die out despite how much time had passed since Elliot had last started it.
A wave of relief and satisfaction washed over Danielās body like a calm river. There was darkness bubbling deep in his body, desperate to break free and do unspeakable things to that damned menace who dared touch his precious ghost, but he had to wait. Right now, he just needed to hold Elliot for a while, until Danny got there of course. After encountering Devil in the woods standing over Elliotās corpse, he wanted nothing more than to devour his soul right then and there, but Daniel knew where Elliot would wake up. So, despite his better interest, he abandoned his quest for revenge and made haste to the beach, knowing that the boy was going to be submerged beneath the waves that would surely end him for good.
They wouldnāt, but not even Elliot knew that. The silence between them grew still, and Daniel watched as Elliot tried and failed to stay awake any longer. Poor kid. Whatever Devil put him through and whatever horrid nightmare he had been experiencing really took a toll. He deserved the rest, even if it was temporary.
āSpooks? Ya there?ā A voice called out, echoing across the rocks of the cave. Daniel didnāt even turn toward him at first, eyes unable to wrench themselves free from Elliotās form until Danny was only a few feet away.
āHey, Stardust. Thanks for coming here on such a short notice. Iām sure you know why I asked you to.ā Daniel started, sounding tired as he had been battling those bloodthirsty voices this whole time. āYeah, yeah, I know. Lucy got to āem first, the lucky bastard. Wish I could have been there, heh.ā Danny laughs, but is greeted with silence. The look that Daniel gives the shorter man is enough to immediately correct himself. Jesus, this guy really was some kind of demon or something? ...Hot as hell though.
āOookay, what I meant to say was; its uh. No problem, Spooks. Iāll watch the little guy while you go enact your terrifying revenge. Mind if I take him to my place?ā Danny puts his hands on his hips, rocking on his feet a bit as he glances around the cave. It didnāt feel as home-y right now. Elliot wasnāt awake to tell stories to, or bake treats, or just... sit with. It was depressing, almost.
Daniel sighs. āGo ahead,ā he murmurs, standing up with Elliot still tucked against his chest. āBut for gods sake, donāt ask him about it, give him time to recover.ā The man warns, but there isnāt much heat behind it. No, that was reserved for Devil, whom was lurking around in the shadows. It didnāt matter if Devil knew that Daniel could see him, no matter where he goes. Even whilst he was standing right in front of Danny, Daniel was watching. His eyes extended far beyond this realm, in every crevice and corner. Soon, he told himself to keep the voices at bay.
āYes, dad,ā Danny sneered, but took Elliot from Daniel without complaint. It was like holding a couple of grapes. Elliot was sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the world around him. For now at least. Danny was absolutely going to ask for every detail as soon as he could. It was a shame he couldnāt at least be there to watch it happen, even though he would have loved to be the one to watch the light leave precious little Elliotās eyes.
...But, heād give the kid some grace, he didnāt want to piss off an already pissed off Daniel, and with how fucking terrifying the man looked right now, there was surely hell awaiting for any unfortunate soul who dared crossed his path. Danny bristled, jolting slightly as he felt Elliot nuzzle closer to his chest unconsciously. His grip loosened a bit, a frown visible from under the balaclava, but he couldnāt exactly do anything to stop this. Heād just have to swallow his pride for now. Daniel brushed past him after a moment, his boots making no sound as he retreated to the back of the cave where he was partially obscured by shadows. Danny watched him, head tilting to the side a bit as Daniel hesitated. āThank you, Stardust.ā Daniel hummed, then his form was slowly consumed by the shadows until he could no longer be seen. Danny paused, then shook his head, turning on his heel with Elliot still in his arms.
āWhatever... not like I wanted to watch it anyway.ā He pouts.
