#madcunt

              𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄. the last memory he’d managed to keep a firm grasp on was lying down in his bed, all but praying that sleep would finally come for him. it almost felt as though his prayers had been 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃, until blue eyes peeled open to find the vastness of the woods surrounding him. had he been in his bed at all, or had his mind only allowed him to believe so? maybe he isn’t even 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, now. the biting chill of the wind through the trees on his bare skin suggests otherwise, making him more certain of the fact that he does in fact now stand at the center of the woods, a decent trek from the warmth of his house. his blue jeans are stiff with mud and debris, a quick swipe of a hand print left on the right leg in what appears to be 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 (how did that get there?), making it seem all that much more unlikely that he’d simply gone to sleep.

even pondering that much is a cue to start up the 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 chatter of his brain, and he abandons the suspicion for a more pertinent one    ——    the idea that he is not 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄. jasper doesn’t have a solid reason for this belief, but it is an intuition of sorts that starts in his very core. bleary eyes scan the treeline for any sign of movement as ears strain for the telltale signs of someone or something in the forest around him.