Hatchetfield Stories

Messy

Something short but I just wanted to write at least something because writer's block sucks

Something else: would you guys be interested in some stories that aren't fanfictions (on another account)? Basically, would people follow me if I made a second account and posted some other stories on there lmao

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Pretty heavy gore
-Death

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Emma fights hard as the alien wearing Paul's skin drags her through the hospital, the horde of aliens surrounding them, making sure she doesn't escape.

Her leg throbs, but she fights through the blinding pain, determined to prolong her inevitable death for as long as possible.

They go to the basement of the hospital, and eventually, they enter a storage room. Her breathing hitches when she realizes this is the room she will die in.

She expects it to be bloody. Messy. But above all, she expects it to hurt.

But they just stand there, watching her as she backs away.

Paul steps forward, and she takes another step back, walking straight into the shelves. Scalpels and syringes clatter on the floor, and despite the aching it causes, she bends down, grabbing a scalpel and holding it in front of her, forcing him to keep his distance.

"S-stay back!" Her voice shakes with fear, and she winces when he takes another step.

"Emma," he says. "Come on, join the show."

She lurches forward, stabbing the scalpel deep in his arm, but the cut heals within seconds, and his smile doesn't falter.

"Oh, Emma," they all say, though Paul's voice is the one that she hears. Before she knows it, he's tackling her and grabs the scalpel when it falls on the floor.

He straddles her hips, making sure she wouldn't be able to get up, and suddenly, they're alone.

He sits there for a minute, watching her struggle to get away. "You can stop fighting, you know? You won't win."

Emma doesn't respond, too busy trying to get him off her hips, biting back a pained moan when his entire weight shifts onto her injured leg. "Get off, get off!" she yells, pain clear in her voice. Paul leans forward, and Emma almost sighs in relief when the pain subsides. Almost.

He's fast, leaning over her, bringing the scalpel to her throat. Her breathing picks up as the blade rests on her skin.

"Paul..." Her voice breaks as she says his name. "Paul, you don't want this..." she tries.

But his grin doesn't falter, instead, he smiles even wider. "You don't know what you're missing, Emma! I can show you!"

He gently traces the blade along her jaw. It's not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to make Emma freeze.

She screams when he makes a sudden movement and stabs the scalpel deep into her chest.

"Paul!" she cries. "Please!"

He doesn't mind her pleas, even smiling as his fingers dig into the wound and pull open her skin. He almost seems to enjoy her screams as he snaps her ribs.

Despite the tears blurring her vision, Emma tries to get him off her, hitting his arms as they once again reach for her. His hands are covered in blood. Her blood. He rips open her flesh, until her chest is nothing but a gory mess, blood squirting out of an artery.

"Stop!" she yells, her voice shaking more than she'd hoped.

His hands dig in the wound, and it's then that she realizes her blood is an ugly shade of purple. Not yet blue, but definitely not red anymore. That's why she isn't dead... yet.

She watches in horror as he pulls her heart out of her chest, and suddenly she realizes it doesn't even hurt anymore. Paul smiles as he holds the organ in his hands, saying something she can't make out over the ringing in her ears.

Her heart isn't beating anymore, but it doesn't have to. Emma Perkins will live on, with Paul by her said. She couldn't have wished for a better dance partner.