Honey I'm Home / Eddie Munson x you (female reader)

Volume: 13

The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal.

The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly.

He fought with the first responders.

Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance.

He refused to leave you.

He didn't need to be cared for.

He didn't care about anything.

Only you.

Mr. Derry's loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand.

Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn't stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet.

And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie's tears streaming down his face and onto yours.

His promise pressed delicately to your lips.

—

"What have we got?"

"According to the patient's friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months.."

I'm fine! Jesus— get off me and help her!

"...call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn't think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department."

"Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!"

"Jesus Christ."

"When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA"

"Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham."
—-

Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It's similar but different. There's more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore.

When he speaks, it's like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room.

"So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?" He says with a grin, "thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,"

Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, "you can't be serious."

His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, "damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!"

"Stolen costume,"

"Pppffft, I just borrowed it." the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot.
—
"Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?"

Sterile.

Chemical.

You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn't feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn't.