ninety-nine balloons (part 4 x fem!reader)

22- Run Rabbit

Took a month long bathroom break but i've returned

also warning, very mild description of vomiting and flesh, be warned. it's in the beginning section so when you see 'rabbit' just skip ahead a few paragraphs.

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A trail of dead life runs like a river through the forest, ever flowing, and ever growing. The bodies police find get bigger everyday, you watch their beaming lights swish through the black trees in search. 

Your feet stick to the ground as if the grass had turned into glue, a heavy growl chewed through your stomach. It whines about how hungry it is, that the police could shut it up should it be blessed to drink the syrup of their being.

It isn't satisfied with the rabbit you're eating like a snack. Think of drinking a glass of water after having a little something sweet; it washes the sugary, delectable flavor and turns it into a disgusting mess. And the rabbit was that disgusting, awful mess. 

There was no solid flavor. It was mush to you, a flavorless chewy substance meant to hold you over. But what's the point when you felt like retching it back out in a muddy, fleshy pile on the forest floor.

You could already feel the rabbit chunks swim in your stomach, poorly swallowed and ill-digested, climbing up your throat. It only took a second to leap back out into the wilderness in that pinkish, yellow blob of muscle and meat. You'd have thought it alive with how swiftly it leapt from your stomach. 

Vomit sticks between your teeth and strings of saliva reach to the brown earth in thick wet stalks. 

If there is a hell, it is full of rabbits, and vampires who cannot eat them.

The rest of the rabbit is chucked to the ground, what remained of its upper body and head. It hit the orange leaves and dead grass with a sickening crack, dying a second time. 

A white puddle of innocence ripped beneath the witness of night, a single black hole bulges from the side of its head, mirroring the white pin-prick eyes that stared down at it. The stars look at it like one of their own had been killed, but also with the understanding there was nothing to be done when they allowed you to flourish under their shade.

The sound of disturbed fall distances itself from you, and the police don't seem to notice they're searching further from the prize they seek, both the answer to the trail of slain, little bunnies, and that of your disappearance. 

Would Hazamada say anything? You don't think so. He doesn't seem so willing to give up the fact he housed a missing person for such a long while, given he could be framed for a kidnapping.

But what if he did? What if he actually told Josuke and his "Uncle-Nephew-thing" about you, and then called you after he felt guilty over it? Hazamada, what a puzzle.

It doesn't necessarily matter now. You're really gone this time, and now not even he knows where you are, for better, or for worse.

"(Y/n)! Are you out here?!"

Everyones voices sound so bleak and unrecognizable. You were sure if Seth were to speak he'd sound plenty different than what you remember. You were sure if you heard him, you would probably cry before you realized he sounded different at all.

Who was that calling out to you, could you guess? Not one you recall ever hearing, but again, what if you forgot what they sounded like? Did you forget Okuyasu? You didn't want to, never, you'd remember him even in your madness of blood-hunger.