Bare Her Soul (James Patrick March x reader )

Seven

Your legs felt weaker than usual as they carried you down the silent hallway. It wasn't as though you felt drunk, because actually you felt incredibly good, but the way the geometric patterns of the passing decor softened into eachother, turning everything but a single point of focus hazy, told you that you must be.

Again, James had dismissed you sooner than you would have liked. A sober, more rational you would be pleased about that - how he hadn't tried to rush you into his bed, as others had tried to before.

You were astounded then, that you felt such a need to be intimate with James March - the stranger you'd met only three days ago. You had responded to every kiss, the juxtaposition in every heated touch of his cool fingertips, that made your skin feel like it was surging electricity. His transatlantic accent in your ear, as he spoke in tones that were alien to your generation.

This was not the plan. But while you were with Luke, you had prayed for a shred of excitement, of depth, a connection that might stop every kiss you shared with him from feeling like a sin - perhaps God had answered that prayer with James. It certainly felt that way, with the warmth running through your blood now, the slight tinge of euphoria you had felt in his arms.

You had no idea you had been drugged of course.

You took the stairs down to your floor, stumbling slightly on the steps.

If it weren't for the numbers signposting the doors, you could have sworn you were still on floor seven, every hallway in this place seemed identical.

You were only meters from your door, head spinning with lingering, pleasant thoughts, when Sally called from behind you.

"Y/N!" she choked.

You turned to see her, the soft smile falling off your face at the sight.

She was leaning through the doorway of another room, a little ways down from you and grasping the door frame as though she were about to collapse. Her cheeks were streaked black, her burgundy lips smudged, mascara tears glistening in the lamplight. She looked like a crying clown.

"Sally" you gasped, pacing with wobbly knees towards her "what happened, what's wrong?"

As you reached her, her spindly hand clasped your arm, and you hadn't a chance to react before she pulled you into the room. She placed a finger over your lips to hush the startled noise you made.

The small room sat in almost complete darkness, but the curtains had been thrown open, and the only visible slice of the moon was enough to outline your surroundings. You blinked as your eyes adjusted and watched the thin, swaying shadow that was Sally take a seat on the mattress edge. Her face was painted a dark shade of blue now in the dim moonlight and you noticed, startlingly, the thin cut that streaked across her left cheek.

"John, he's what's wrong." she spat, lighting up a cigarette.

Your brow furrowed, and you pressed the door shut gently behind you - John's room was only a few doors down from here. You moved through the dark space, taking care not to bump into anything and stopped at the end of the double bed.

"What do you mean?" you asked softly.

"Christ Y/N are you blind?" Sally groaned and she looked up at you with admonishing eyes "well" she scoffed " John is having an affair with me."

"Oh..." you started, you hardly knew anything about John - let alone that he was married "and you're...upset?"

Her cut weeped in that moment, steaking her already marred cheeks in a thin line of red. She exhaled a great ring of smoke and you coughed infront of her. She rolled her eyes and patted the mattress. When you sat down, knees knocking her bony ones as you faced her, her demeanor seemed to shift entirely. Her eyes lit with life, and her lips pulled back into a Cheshire cat grin.

"How was your date?" she half-snarled in your face, and you flinched at the stale bite of her breath.

"I...good. But Sally, you're crying and- bleeding. Please tell me what's wrong. I saw John earlier and he looked unhinged..."

The woman let out a cackle.

You ignored it, and placed your hand on her arm. It was ice cold, like James, and you wondered why for such a luxurious building, it didn't have central heating.

"Did he hurt you?" you pried "you can tell me Sally. I want to help you."

The dark, muddy pools of her eyes locked on yours, all traces of humour seemed to die in them.

"You can" she whispered.

She reached forward to retrieve a worn, velvet purse from the bedstand. She laid it out on the space between you both and pulled out a long, plastic tube from inside.

"You can help me" she repeated, and suddenly gripped your hand in hers. The cool plastic sat in your palm now, and when she pulled her hand away, you looked down to see a long syringe.

She tossed her fur coat to the side, and bared her palled forearm to you. Your eyes widened, following the track marks littered across her skin.

"What? no, that's not-"

"Please" she hissed, grasping your shoulders. Her black fingernails dug into you.

"No!" you shook your head frantically, worried eyes shifting between her and the needle " Sally I'm not going to help you drug yourself"

Her tears were pouring now, but she didn't so much as sniff, she simply stared past you, brow trembling wildly.

Your next inhale was met with a pungent odor, that wasn't there before. You ignored it and as her trembling hands dropped away from you, you placed the needle on the bed and took them in yours.

"Sally. Whatever the hell has happened, we can talk about it. You're not alone, just let me-"

White light lit the room for a microsecond. Like silent lightning.

It hit again.

You jerked your head up at the window. But it didn't come from there.

Another flash, and with it, the rotten scent completely coated your throat. You looked back at Sally, she was trembling from head to toe now, eyes trained on a point past your head. A quiet, strangled noise came from the back of her throat.

The fleshy, foul-smelling creature she had unwittingly conjoured long ago,  loomed only inches behind you.

"It wasn't for me" Sally murmered "if you take it, then he'll make it go away.."

"Who's 'he'? Sally! Make what go away?"

"When you're under, nothing hurts. It'll be painless, and once he does it, you'll be like me. You'll be here, and you won't go away like the others."

You were frightened now. The implication in her words. You began following her gaze behind you. Your head turned halfway - something large, flesh-pink in your peripheral.

Then Sally grabbed you. She yanked your arm out, and stabbed the needle straight into the top of it.