Frenzied Spirits

Loser

☺

Spending time with The Entity as a survivor felt different than being with it as a killer.

When she threw Frank back down to the campfire, his soul felt strangely hollow. He had no idea how such a thing was possible, but he could feel it, and that was enough for him to believe it. Frank's body felt physically weak, and each movement slowly became more and more of a struggle for him.

He wanted to drag himself across the ground and lay face first in front of the campfire but he knew he had to force himself to get up and pretend like nothing was wrong. He had to protect his image above all else- appearing weak in front of the group wasn't an option.

Eyes closed, he pushed himself off the ground with a soft grunt, feeling every muscle in his body scream in pain.

Fuck.

There was a point in his life when he was sure the worst physical pain he would ever experience was the time he'd sliced open his lip in a drunken escapade- but this was a million times worse than that. He couldn't believe he'd willingly put people through this. As much as The Entity had tortured him before, he'd given in to it's demands rather quickly- as much as he hated to believe it.

It wasn't that he wanted to do it, it was that he felt obligated to keep his 'family' safe at the time. They didn't have a choice, just as much as the survivors didn't. It might have seemed like the killers were on a higher level, but they weren't. They were being forced into this- and very few of them actually wanted to be here. The Entity was just molding the killers into monsters- that was what all of this was. Destroying hope, futures. Molding good people into bad ones, troubled people into monsters, and monsters into... Frank didn't know.

Originally, he believed he was a monster all along- that he was irredeemable, and horrible, and that was just what he was placed in this world to become. But honestly, after he'd met some of the other people placed into this world with him, he learned that it was more complicated than that.

He was fucked up, but there were always people worse than him- which was shocking.

Being brought here made him lose a lot of hope in himself- he always wondered if he'd be able to get himself out of the pattern of fearing rejection and fucking things up for everyone around him. He didn't even mean to become the person he was, but it'd been how he learned to cope without any support from anyone.

He was so ashamed of who he was and where he came from, that he never bothered to tell anyone about what he'd been through- not even Julie. She didn't need to know, he didn't need their pity, and he hardly trusted anyone enough to just hand over such vulnerable information about himself.

He knew everything about Julie, but she knew next to nothing about him. He was basically just an enigma, keeping every detail about himself under lock and key. Nobody could hurt him if he hurt everyone first, and told nobody anything.

Though, maybe this was another shot to do better.

"Wow, I haven't seen someone get up that quick after their first sacrifice since Jake!"

Frank hadn't realized he'd dragged himself to the fire, collapsing onto the nearest log with nobody sitting on it.

He jerked his head to the side, quickly finding the source of the voice. He recognized her, but not well enough to know who she was or what her name was. Somehow, near-perfect glasses sat perched on her nose, and she poked at the fire with a stick.

Frank didn't have it in him to say anything in response, only giving a soft shrug as his gaze once again found the fire in front of him.

This one felt colder than the one at Ormond- and he was sure that made absolutely no sense. It was fire, after all. It shouldn't have been any different from the fireplace at Ormond.