Ray of hope || by Elin Moon

Chapter 3: Run away

The world around me seems to freeze as the reality of the situation hits me. Dipsy, he's here. He's walking, he has no head, and is carrying a bloody chainsaw. He's supposed to be dead, but he clearly isn't and I can feel the world around me crumbling as my brain seems to process what is right in front of it. This can't be real, it just can't be. I feel my breath speed up, and dread steadily pool in my stomach, like a sickness overtaking my body. I can feel my eyes tear up as Dip- i mean- the monster revs the chainsaw loudly, ready to cut us into tiny, tiny pieces. I'm practically rooted to the spot. Luckily, the Guardian seems more attentive than me, as he grabs on to my hand as tightly as possible while still being able to support Ron, and starts dragging me along as the monster proceeds to chase us.

Everything around me seemed to pass in a blur. The only thing I could feel is the Guardian's tight hold of my hand, and the only thing filling my ears is the chainsaw loudly behind us, and the loud footsteps against the metal of the floor. The running seems to continue endlessly, and soon I can hear my strained breathing noisily in my ears. Other than that, it seems I can't latch on to anything else. My mind is blank, and I can't think straight. None of this feels real anymore, and I hate it.

Suddenly, I feel my body woosh into the air, and land harshly on the ground with a loud thump. The feeling of throbbing pain from my left arm that hit the ground first in a rather awkward position, still holding the Guardian's hand. With this new pain to latch on, reality seems to seep back into me as I finally seem to focus on reality. I slip my hand out of the Guardian's hand, and try to pull myself up. I wince as I feel the burning pain throughout my body. I look up at the Guardian, who has already sat up, hoisting up a nearly unconscious Ron, who had started bleeding heavily from his wound, probably from the sudden movement. I notice the Guardian's gaze looking in the direction of where we came from, seemingly entranced by what he saw. Okay, maybe not entranced. More like fixated. Concentrated. I peek behind me to see what he is so transfixed by, to see the headless monster coming our way, chainsaw up and ready to slash. My breath catches in my throat as I force myself to sit up before the thing in front of me can cut me up like I'm some piece of wood. However, the pain in my body makes it hard, and trying to lean on my left arm was clearly a mistake. I crumble back to the floor, all hope of living draining from my body. I can almost feel the impending slash, the warm blood, the burning sensation, followed by numbness as my body slowly dies. Why isn't the Guardian doing anything!?

Suddenly, sparks fly all around us as smoke fills the air, and a loud exploding sound fills my head, causing me to flinch straight into the Guardian's chest, who has somehow knelt down beside me while still holding Ron. I close my eyes, taking solace in the darkness like I'd never done before. I don't want to see what happened, I don't want to. It can't be real if I don't see. It can't be. It just can't.

I feel the Guardian wrap his free around me, pushing me closer into his chest, as if in some sort of an attempt at a hug. I feel his chest fall and rise as he lets out a breath of, possibly, relief. I dare squint my eyes open, which caused an onslaught of tears to trickle down my cheeks unannounced, like they've just been waiting for their moment to shine. I try to peek at what's happened behind us, curiosity about the explosion taking over. I wish i would've kept my eyes shut; Dipsy's headless body, all covered in blood as it is, slumped on the floor, with burns all over his body, making his fur patchy and crisped up at some of the edges, his weapon laying slightly away from his grasp on the floor. It was a horrible sight. It makes me sick. I shut my eyes again as a sob escapes my throat, burying myself back in the Guardian's chest. The tears continued streaming down my face, and the chances of it stopping anytime soon were low.

I could feel the Guardian slowly rub my back, up and down, as gently as possible. The comforting gesture was nice, keeping me in the present, as I tried to concentrate more on the feeling of his fur rather than the thoughts in my head and the events that had just transpired. The Guardian doesn't speak, but I don't mind the silence, it's actually rather calming. It's certainly a far cry from the thudding, rushing, panicky feeling from before. But it's nice, and it helps me catch my breath, turning the sobs more into quiet sniffling.