Sequel: Paralians ›
Status: Completed.
The Redemption of Peter Wentz
Scheszura Simile
My screams couldn’t be heard. No one will find me. Obviously, this is not the way I wanted to go. I have so much unfinished business. I can't just leave Pete alone like--
Pain. There you go. There it is. How have you been, old friend? Haven’t felt you in a while.
My knees buckled beneath me, yet I was still being supported by the firm arms that had snaked their way around my hips to end in a spread palm holding my shoulder blade. They’d jerk me forward every now and then making the pain surge forward to produce another scream, nearing a moan. I choked on my words. How could you form any, when the life is being taken through your throat? Tears flowed freely from my eyes, clearing the dirt in shimmering tracks down my face, gushing like fucking Niagara Falls; I didn’t know what to do with my hands, really. They clawed at his shoulders, his neck, anything I could manage to get a grip on, only to lose it again and have my hands clench, no doubt having my knuckles turn paler than what I was becoming. The dizziness followed.
Part of me laughed at the idea that this is exactly how I get at blood drives when they want just a pint more. I pray that I’ll pass out. Please, if there is a God, give me that release. Don’t let me suffer like this.
This parasite grunted low in his chest, rumbling against me, and I whimpered. I never thought that I’d even see so much of my own blood in my lifetime. I could feel the chill of it as it soaked through my shirt, my coat having been shredded in the struggle. This whole ordeal was going a lot slower than I would’ve wanted. A haze began creeping around my line of vision. Edges blurred, shapes fading in and out. This was a different drug, but in the long run, I’ll tell you that endorphins don’t do shit at a time like this. I’m losing feeling in my limbs. I—
There goes the lightning in my reaction to the teeth pressing harder, deeper into my jugular, that precious and sensitive artery. Eyes wide as saucers, I could vaguely feel my mouth drop open and I sank further into his hold, limp and helpless. The thunder followed in the shrillest scream I could muster with the blinding agony. And it was just that. Blinding. My vision finally gave out.
Oh, god. Please…NO. I’m blind.
The scent of me was everywhere, more inviting by the second when the pressure on my neck finally subsided. But…no. Nononononono, it can’t get any worse than this.
“Brendon,” his voice teasing in the shell of my ear, hot and iniquitous, nothing I wanted to be near. “listen, little one. Don’t fight any of this. It will be easier if you simply give up.”
I was choking again, but not on my words. “H-how can I fight back? You—you’ve m-made that imposs—ible.”
“That’s the spirit.” I shuddered violently at the statement. “Now, just one more favor from you.” Beckett had put his wrist to my mouth, dripping onto my lips, loose and worn. I couldn’t even muster strength to turn away. My eyes tried so hard to search him out, to push him away, anything but this. From how bad Pete had described, this is probably the last thing I want in this life. But in this sort of situation, how can you do anything when you can hardly move. You lose all ability---
Hold on. I’m moving. I need this. This helps. Whatever this is, whatever he is giving me is helping. My parched throat and limbs are begging for this.
Shit. I black out. Finally.
But no, what is this? The aching in my muscles, contracting in on themselves. William’s left me here, I can figure that much from the way my hair is soaking up the water of a puddle. I hope it’s water…
Oh, god! It hurts! Fire everywhere, spine clenching.
Through the madness I hear my name. Who did this? What happened?
If I could form the words, Peter, I would tell you in a heartbeat.
I can’t breathe anymore. I’m heaving, suffocating, choking, sputtering. Why? Why me?
“P-Pete,” I whimpered, eyes rolling slut, clutching Pete’s wrist firm enough to no doubt leave several bruises. “It hurts. So much. Please, Pete! It burns.”
There goes my spine, snapping and sending shockwaves through my shoulders, arms, hips, just—fuck, everything hurts. So much pain. I cry out again.
I gasp; clutching the sheets that I’d been gripping so hard my fingernails had ripped several holes in them. Blinking in the fading daylight, checked my surroundings before keeling over and collapsing back into the pillows. They still smelled like Pete, faintly so, and I couldn’t bear this any longer. I’m done with this, done with everything. I want Pete back. I can’t fucking sleep anymore (I can’t even think properly without him, shit) and this is becoming unbearable. I’m breaking in slow motion, and I’m done. This needs to end.
I will fix this.
Pain. There you go. There it is. How have you been, old friend? Haven’t felt you in a while.
My knees buckled beneath me, yet I was still being supported by the firm arms that had snaked their way around my hips to end in a spread palm holding my shoulder blade. They’d jerk me forward every now and then making the pain surge forward to produce another scream, nearing a moan. I choked on my words. How could you form any, when the life is being taken through your throat? Tears flowed freely from my eyes, clearing the dirt in shimmering tracks down my face, gushing like fucking Niagara Falls; I didn’t know what to do with my hands, really. They clawed at his shoulders, his neck, anything I could manage to get a grip on, only to lose it again and have my hands clench, no doubt having my knuckles turn paler than what I was becoming. The dizziness followed.
Part of me laughed at the idea that this is exactly how I get at blood drives when they want just a pint more. I pray that I’ll pass out. Please, if there is a God, give me that release. Don’t let me suffer like this.
This parasite grunted low in his chest, rumbling against me, and I whimpered. I never thought that I’d even see so much of my own blood in my lifetime. I could feel the chill of it as it soaked through my shirt, my coat having been shredded in the struggle. This whole ordeal was going a lot slower than I would’ve wanted. A haze began creeping around my line of vision. Edges blurred, shapes fading in and out. This was a different drug, but in the long run, I’ll tell you that endorphins don’t do shit at a time like this. I’m losing feeling in my limbs. I—
There goes the lightning in my reaction to the teeth pressing harder, deeper into my jugular, that precious and sensitive artery. Eyes wide as saucers, I could vaguely feel my mouth drop open and I sank further into his hold, limp and helpless. The thunder followed in the shrillest scream I could muster with the blinding agony. And it was just that. Blinding. My vision finally gave out.
Oh, god. Please…NO. I’m blind.
The scent of me was everywhere, more inviting by the second when the pressure on my neck finally subsided. But…no. Nononononono, it can’t get any worse than this.
“Brendon,” his voice teasing in the shell of my ear, hot and iniquitous, nothing I wanted to be near. “listen, little one. Don’t fight any of this. It will be easier if you simply give up.”
I was choking again, but not on my words. “H-how can I fight back? You—you’ve m-made that imposs—ible.”
“That’s the spirit.” I shuddered violently at the statement. “Now, just one more favor from you.” Beckett had put his wrist to my mouth, dripping onto my lips, loose and worn. I couldn’t even muster strength to turn away. My eyes tried so hard to search him out, to push him away, anything but this. From how bad Pete had described, this is probably the last thing I want in this life. But in this sort of situation, how can you do anything when you can hardly move. You lose all ability---
Hold on. I’m moving. I need this. This helps. Whatever this is, whatever he is giving me is helping. My parched throat and limbs are begging for this.
Shit. I black out. Finally.
But no, what is this? The aching in my muscles, contracting in on themselves. William’s left me here, I can figure that much from the way my hair is soaking up the water of a puddle. I hope it’s water…
Oh, god! It hurts! Fire everywhere, spine clenching.
Through the madness I hear my name. Who did this? What happened?
If I could form the words, Peter, I would tell you in a heartbeat.
I can’t breathe anymore. I’m heaving, suffocating, choking, sputtering. Why? Why me?
“P-Pete,” I whimpered, eyes rolling slut, clutching Pete’s wrist firm enough to no doubt leave several bruises. “It hurts. So much. Please, Pete! It burns.”
There goes my spine, snapping and sending shockwaves through my shoulders, arms, hips, just—fuck, everything hurts. So much pain. I cry out again.
I gasp; clutching the sheets that I’d been gripping so hard my fingernails had ripped several holes in them. Blinking in the fading daylight, checked my surroundings before keeling over and collapsing back into the pillows. They still smelled like Pete, faintly so, and I couldn’t bear this any longer. I’m done with this, done with everything. I want Pete back. I can’t fucking sleep anymore (I can’t even think properly without him, shit) and this is becoming unbearable. I’m breaking in slow motion, and I’m done. This needs to end.
I will fix this.