//Warnings: disassociation, mention of death, descriptive panic attack, and dead bodies.//
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Rough fragile hands still, the rhythmic humm of a machine that beeps with the rise and fall of his chest.
A baby's cry echoes the pale walls with color. It sounds like the beginning of a book he would never be able to read. His eyes were lost to sight many years before where he laid now.
The smell of copper and cleaning supplies swim the air to the tune of a silent song.
In his gentle hold was the chill of metal against skin that held no warmth.
Well, not anymore.
The withered voice that emits from the bell is quiet, only for his ears to hear. It's a quiet goodbye from the other side, where his closest companions join to make a chorus.
A welcoming invitation.
A ringing in the distance becomes quiet, it let's him lay and listen to his personal chorus.
...
A piercing scream of agony grips his soul. An itching burn makes its way down to the pits of his lungs. It burns itself into his memory unwillingly.
Who's insufferable voice had scar him?
The man's thoughts crowd with voices. His hands clap the top of his head around a protruding object, but vibrations of that pain filled voice hummus in his head are not enough to ignore.
That's when he'd realize.
He had been the one screaming.
His voice dies out into coughs and dry wheezes. The man soothes himself away from the beg of water his throat demanded.
His bones ached with an age and weight on his back. The teasing flame of burns lick his skin painfully.
The man looks up for the first time. Against his own bodys wants to lay down and curl up like a child, confused and crying for the comfort of his mother.
The blood red eye of a moon stares back at him mockingly. A matching menagerie of crimson creates a red sea split sky, yet buildings of different shapes and sizes break the horizon.
An eerie silence jumps along the lonely rubble
The man drops his head into his hands in disbelief. His thoughts find no reason to his anguish, it was something he didn't want to remember. Blocked out from his subconscious.
The weight against his back never left, the man's life was intact but new problems arose.
He cannot catch a break, now can he?
His trembling hands lifts his shocked body from the malformed cindered cement. Grunts of aches as he tries to stand, the man now notices it.
How he didn't feel it at first, the weight on his back, the stubs on his head, and his struggle to stand.
He drags himself up a lamp post like his only life line. Small scratches litter his arms but that was at the least of his concerns. His body desperately threw his weight against the pole exhaustingly.
The clip of hoofs hit the pavement frantically.
He was no longer human.
No longer man in his own eyes.
YOU ARE READING
I Used to Know You, Radio Host - AlastorxMale!Reader
Fanfiction//AlastorxReader, just and indulgence fic to repent my past cringe.// Your hands entangled in with one other, living in the moment. The lie of a sweet kiss to seal death, it soothed an escape from the true reality. You tailored his suit, knew him by...
