𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

49

A short 3rd person p.o.v as the next is far too long to include it. I wrote this while listening to Hans Zimmer's Time, if anyone wants to feel extra emotional about our lad.

ERIC OSPREY

When Dan's band disconnects, Eric swears and runs as fast as he can, desperately trying to reach the love of his life who's currently in the hands of a psychopath.

Mark has it in his head that he owns her. That whatever Eric has, he can take. The sick, twisted bastard has no boundaries, no line that shouldn't be crossed. Eric had seen the footage of what the kid was forced to do in that house of horrors, the torture that he was convinced to be normal.

Mark's own fucking father making a ten-year-old do unimaginable things, punishing him for refusing to cause pain. Eric forgave him for what he did to Laura, because he too was a victim. But to take his goddamn heart and subject her to the same fate? No. Eric won't let her go through that.

He won't hesitate to fucking snap Mark's neck on sight.

The alarms overhead are loud, but it's muffled from his rushing. If he could run faster, he would. His legs ache, the muscles screaming at him to slow down, to stop, but he keeps going. He's close. So, so close to reaching his girl.

What if he's too late?

Eric had seen the pictures, gruesome enough that he was sick for days.

Chains.

Body parts.

Skinned flesh.

Knives.

Blood.

Ripped, pink nightdresses.

The names of each one of the victims were carved into Mark's skin. Each name told a story, a traumatic story of how he was forced to destroy whoever his motherfucker of a father locked in his bedroom.

And each one of them flashes in his mind, the victims replaced by a ginger-haired girl with freckled skin, eyes too big for her face as she stares at the camera. Blinding rage has him running even faster, heart pounding in his chest, lungs desperate for a rest.

He can't stop.

He can't slow down.

He needs to keep going until he has her in his arms.

Safe. She needs to be safe.

His thoughts are erratic. But he can't shut out the negative ones. She's gone. She's dead. She's dead because of you. You never deserved her in the first place. She was bound to try to leave you. You're not good enough. You're a freak.

Monster. Monster. Monster.

Killer.

If he doesn't reach Dan on time, he might not see her again. He'd rather slash his throat than spend another day without her. She's his. He's hers. Dan and Eric. Always. Fucking always. Without her, there is no point in living.

He's battling with branches in the dead forest as his feet pound into the surface. The ex-soldier and bodyguard has never felt this type of terror. It almost paralyses him, the thought of losing her.

Breathless, he continually mutters no to himself while he keeps attempting to contact her. Each time it beeps twice, disconnecting. He needs to be ready, needs to have his gun in his hand to put a bullet through each person's head when he reaches where the tracker leads him. Why the fuck did he turn off the app that recorded her vitals?