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bettabluetown · 3 years

Text

~A Memory Away~

(same warnings as before: gore and suicidal thoughts)

Ch.2

Smoke swirled in the air; filling old lungs and staining crooked teeth. Hooves beat the ground, smashing the snow under rusted horseshoes. The sound of soft trotting slowly coming to a stop.

The cabin was in view, a scattered blood trail leading from the trees, the ground, and eventually the front door. A body slumped in front of it. Worn boots smacked the ground, crushing the exposed earth. A low grumble slipping through the air.

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Focus. Breathe. The world was unsteady. A red film distorted the bright winter scenery, glazing over their ruptured eye. Fast, sharp inhales echoed into the trees; frigid air ripped through exhausted lungs, stirring up that cold burning sensation deep within. The snow cuddled their dirty clothes and uncovered limbs. It coated exposed bone and irritated, infected flesh.

They never made it inside the cabin. No, in fact they laid face down on cold dirt, blinking stupidly at the spinning ground. It was a chore to breathe, so difficult to move, to think. Death should have reaped its reward yet, there they laid, paralyzed by pain--their body almost devoid of function.

Frozen tears lit their face on fire, melting from hot panicked breathes. They were gasping and wheezing, their chest felt tighter; mind bordering the line of unconsciousness.

Final remnants of warmth faded from their system. Everything started to shutdown. They needed to move, to force the blood flow.

With all the energy left in their body, they painfully rolled themselves over, Their back kicking up a dusting of snow. The woods still spun, but it was clearer...a beautiful sight to see. They knew they weren't going to make it, the journey was pointless, who were they kidding?

Whomever sent them there was probably just playing tricks. Time was hard to track but, they were sure that enough of it had past to lose hope.

Through shivering lips and chattering teeth, they released one normal sigh of air--eyes slowly coming to a close. Although, It didn't last long.

The trees had begun to whisper, carrying the thunderous claps of heavy hooves. Maybe death finally arrived, galloping in on its mysterious, night colored steed.

Their imagination ran wild, the hallucinations took hold of them. With most mental function gone, they chuckled in their delirium. Nervous tears escaped barely opened eyes; panicked squirming erupted through their body as the figure drew near. They couldn't decide, their brain and heart in a constant battle--to welcome death or to escape it; their quarreling muscles' favorite topic of discussion.

Boots smacked the ground, an amused grunt breaking the eerie silence. Smoke curled into their view, nicotine clouds whirling into their dizzy stupor. It elicited a cough to escape them, blood spitting up and splattering across their face. It was a cigar that burned their nose. Threatened their breathing.

The stranger walked in lazy strides, a metal object dragged carefully along the ground, snapping at their heels. A cocky guffaw hit the wind, that familiar voice reached their ears. It grew closer as the stranger knelt down into the icy dirt, a crooked grin waltzing its way towards their line of sight.

The shredded brim of an old hat blocked out the sun, the words finally registered.

"Well look at what the Lycan dragged in.." instead of eyes, black shades appeared. The black lenses danced with the smoke, furling into an inky mess. "You know, when I said to come here...I meant for you to go inside." He laughed. "I can't even wrap my head around how you're still breathing, pipsqueak." They sputtered, trying to decide what to say. Ask for help? Push him away? They both weren't great options. It all ended the same way. Horrible.

A low chuckle erupted from his lips, he stood to full height again, stepping over them and disappearing into the cabin. There were muffled sounds of clattering objects being thrown around and searched through; a few annoyed shouts rang out.

While the man continued doing whatever the hell he was doing, curious hooves stopped just near their head, a horse staring down and blowing it's warm breath in their face.

"Ah see! If they had held out for a little bit longer, pipsqueak here would've found the med kit." He was talking to the horse. Stepping over their limp body once again and tossed the kit into a bag that hung off the saddle. He turned sharply on his heel, crouching down once again and roughly placing his gloved hand under their back.

At first they thought maybe he was confident in the strength of one arm, but it turned out the man was missing his right arm. Forced, by whatever took the other limb away, to use only his left for everything. They could barely make it out, or anything else for that matter. So out of it and lost in panicked thoughts, they could only take note of the man's tall build, his ash tinted horse, and the comically large hammer that seemed to float.

He tossed their body around like a potato sack, doing it all with ease. They were thrown on the front of the saddle, their body slumped, his huge form taking a seat right behind them to hold them still.

With one final drag of the cigar he tossed it to the forest floor, his gloved hand trailing up and taking hold of the reins.

"Don't go dying on me pipsqueak, don't think I'll be able to live with myself." He chortled, mocking the situation they had found themselves in, and although they wanted to argue, all they could muster was a delirious groan.

(read the tags if you're interested in my rambling :3)

#karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg #reader #re village #resident evil #re8 #I didn't want this to be short but I cut it short for time reasons #the next part will be out soon or later #also yes in my au Karl is missing his arm #but this is because the story takes place after re8 #like way after #it's an au after all

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bettabluetown · 3 years

Text

~A Memory Away ~

(since I don't feel like making a new ao3 account, I'm just gonna post this stuff here. Oh btw, I tried something a little different with the perspective since I haven't written in forever. Another side note, the reader is non-binary.)

[tw: mentions of suicide]

Ch.1

With every breath, pain followed. Blood spilled into the soft blanket of snow beneath torn boots. Vision blurry, nose bleeding, fingernails encrusted with red and speckled with dirt.

The crash.

Dry, drawn out heaves echoed into the breeze. Air kissing every open wound-- their right leg ripped and mangled making it unrecognizable. Snow buried into a fingerless, burgundy oozing hand as it grasped at the ground. Every blink becoming more and more unbearable as the hole where an eye used to be started to fester and burn.

The man.

Ice cloaked stones pressed into aching feet. Sensitive, bruised skin flinching with each tickle of scarce grass. Another bated breath. Another slow, painful movement. Steady.

The journal.

Control. Breathe. Blades of dead grass had brushed under each and every tear. The closest thing to comfort being the chilly touch of wind caressing exposed flesh. They closed their eyes; death was on the horizon, they were ready to give up. They felt trapped, wanting to let go but the fear of what came after made them hold on.

A house appeared just a few inches away. Its door torn off the hinges and buried in dirt. They approached cautiously, stumbling inside and slamming against the interior. Old wooden, abandoned walls propped them up, the fingerless hand hugging the violently ripped apart muscle and tissue that was once their leg. They were lost, far from home, no memory of why or how they ended up in such a place. Dying. All that barely scratched the front of their brain were recent events. The car crash. The man and his chains. The journal.

Agony and anger ran through their veins, knuckles paling, palms bleeding from too much pressure. They gritted their teeth, banging the wall in defeat with a clenched fist. No one wants to die...Not like this anyways.

Soft, warm, tear drained lids slowly closed. The cold had never felt so welcoming like it did in that moment. Giving up wasn't so...bad, if the pain went away then maybe...something clicked in the distance. Loud static echoed in the withering house they sat in. The sound of a radio buzz and a cleared throat snapped their (working) left eye open.

It felt like a fever dream. Some kind of strange saw scenario that they just so happened to get stuck in the middle of. Something began to rumble through; a thunderous, exhausted, showy voice crackling out of the speaker.

"You're tough kid, I'll give you that." The audio stuttered, the sound peaking every so often. The voice that grated pass the radio sounded tired and pained, a forced theatrical tone painted over it.

"You know, I thought you were as good as dead when mega bitch got her hands on you." The voice, it was clearly a man's; It was rough and sounded like it hadn't been used in ages. They suddenly grew worried, the realization that someone or something was watching their every step. "Wh-who..-" They groaned out, the words coming out more painfully than they expected, deciding it'd be better to cut the question short. The decrepit floorboards had creaked with each movement; wood groaned as they assiduously dragged their body to the other side.

Their bloody fingers collided with the desk, smacking the surface as they tried to reach for the radio.

Everything hurt, each bone cracked and shifted; blood had flowed like a river in a storm. A harsh wind hit the decaying house, their body cringed from the chill, a whimper escaping ice cold lips.

"I'm feeling generous, pipsqueak." it sounded like he talked with a grin, like this whole situation was just a normal event for the week; "Make it towards the woods just past that little village you're in and follow the trees with yellow paint. Quite simple isn't it?" Exhaustion and panic grew in the pit of their stomach from those words. The sick game that the man was trying to play illustrated a terrible outcome.

"I- how can I tr-trust you?" An amused chuckle ensued, a pleased response followed. "Well I'll leave that to you, trust is a gamble after all." His smile could be heard with each word that passed him. "Remember, follow the trees with yellow paint..there should be a little surprise waiting for you there." The radio crackled, static cutting abruptly, the sound of his entertained chortle faded with the noise. The silence waded in like the snow outside.

Small clouds of warm breath pushed through purpled, frozen lips; teeth grinding against one another. It took one step--one movement and then the motor could start. Sliding up the wall, they whimpered and held down the anguished groans that were desperate to break free from the confines of their throat. Blood spilled down their chin, dull teeth Nibbled in concentration, the soft flesh of their mouth breaking. Just One step. Another.

Their ankle screamed with each step, the bone Grinding aloud. Snow covered their exposed toes, one hand gripping onto the splintered door frame that welcomed the outside.

Despite the lack of an eye, they could just about make out where the forest stood. A low, dead tired sigh escaped them. The journey was long and to be realistic, they most likely wouldn't survive the trip-- sheer luck and willpower would be the only things that keep them alive. So with a sharp inhale, they began to walk. They weren't even sure if the whole idea was smart, but death was knocking at their door and they decided in that moment that they weren't quite ready to open it.

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The woods held an untamed darkness. They stood just outside of it, the entrance luring them in with the hushed sounds only the trees could make. Yellow paint smeared on the nearest tree being the only indicator that someone had braved the forest before them. Wind whispered through the dead branches, crows cawed in the distance, and echoed low growls dripping from starved predators waiting for their prey.

Blood smacked the ground. It spilled from every wound they could see. They panted, clouds of breath painting the air. Everything was slowly becoming harder and harder to see. Through half lidded eyes, they could barely make out the next yellow mark, their good hand gripping whatever tree that stood nearby.

The enticing idea of giving up slowed the journey. They entertained the thought the whole way there; thinking that whatever waited for them at the end of the paint trail, might just be as bad as falling to their knees and letting death's cold digits steal away the final breath. It was a serious thought, a question that would be left unanswered, for a soft orange light reflected off the snow. The sun was beginning to set and, like luck being the wonderful bastard it is, a cabin appeared in the distance. A can of yellow paint resting just outside of the little home.

Upon reaching the small cabin, it looked pretty old, made sturdy with care by most likely whomever lived inside. They knocked, cautious. They awaited a trap or rather hoped it was just a hallucination. If it was real, then meeting the homeowner might not be for the best. Although, once bloody knuckles rapped against the aged door, it opened without much hesitance-- it was as if a force pushed the door open for them. There was no turning back, no doubt would cloud their mind anymore. With careful breaths and a final glance back to the forest, they stepped in, the aged cabin door slamming shut as soon as they entered.

#karl heisenburg x reader #reader #karl heisenberg #re8 #resident evil #re village #I used to have ao3 but deleted my account so #I'll be posting this here #probably won't update this very often #uh #mostly a content warning for gore #and mentions of suicide #hope you peeps enjoy

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