Ꮇ𝑦 ℤօｍ𝘣ⅈ𝖊 𝗕օ𝑦𝚏𝔯ⅈ𝖊𝖓꒯ ||Parkster

Promises; Lungs Graced with Breath, Hand Graced with Knife

"Sometimes a man grows tired of everything the world heaps upon his head. Hope of relief begins to die. And the man must decide whether to cast off his load or endure it until his neck snaps like a brittle twig in autumn." ~ (Exquisite Corpse - Poppy Z. Brite)

~~~

Being in the bedroom is rather stifling. The entire time a storm cloud hangs over Chester's head, so he slips quietly down the hall to explore the rest of the house; a distraction from his rapidly spiraling thoughts.

All of the rooms are impeccably clean, besides a few mysterious black stains that he decides to clean later.

The kitchen is large and modern with black tile and dark cabinetry. He opens everything, smiling wide at the amount of food packed away. It's enough to last for weeks!

His smile slowly fades as a recurring question teases the edge of his consciousness: what has Parker been surviving on these past few months?

Chester opens the refrigerator and wrinkles his nose at the rotten smell wafting out from frigid air.

He stands infront of the basement door. The only place he hasn't checked. "Bro if we really want to find out what happened to Everlyn's boyfriend, we should check the basement," Chester can hear himself suggest to Parker who looks doubtful, "I don't know dude, we should probably talk to him first, like we said we would."

"It'll just be really quick! I want to find out what's making that noise.. don't you?" Chester presses his ear against the wood and hears a metallic clang followed by scraping, feeling his curiosity pique further. Parker pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs tiredly, clearly wanting to do the interview and set up some cameras so they can go to bed.

"Fine.. we'll check it out. But let's not take too long, we got a job to do. Everlyn sounded really freaked out.." Chester rolls his eyes at Parker's overly sincere tone and the dreamy look in his eyes when he says her name. "Yeah, whatever," he mumbles, quashing the surge of jealousy.

Chester yanks open the door and trudges down the steps, simmering with anger at his past self. Look where your curiosity got you.

Immediately, a sickly sweet smell of rot a million times worse than the fridge coats the back of his throat and sticks there, causing him to nearly choke and cover his nose with the front of his shirt.

It grows rich and vile the farther he descends. Jesus Christ..

Anyone else would probably run back up the stairs and lock the door, but again, Chester's curiosity wins over.

Yeah he definitely should've went back up and locked the door.

Everywhere, strewn across the entire basement floor are dog carcasses in various states of dismemberment and mutilation. Some are ripped open, missing their jellied innards and mostly eaten. Some only partially. All of them have their heads smashed open and brains missing to keep from becoming one of the infected.

Trails of intestines tumble out of open chest cavities, hind legs snapped back, necks twisted, and muzzles smashed into flattened meat mixed with bone shards and teeth. Near the wall, a pile of furry flesh has been peeled away and discarded like wrappers. Red viscera stains almost every surface.

This time he does choke. Chester throws up and retches so violently he almost passes out. "WHAT THE FUCK BRO!!" he screams hoarsely, cheeks wet with flowing tears.

He stomps up the stairs and gathers as many trash bags and cleaning supplies as he can carry, then stomps back down.

Chester kneels and picks up a smashed skull by it's floppy ear, it comes away with some resistance as if glued to the floor. He drops it with a scream when a mess of maggots fall out and start thrashing within a puddle of stinking ooze.