「 Hell On Wheels! 」Alastor x Reader (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter XVIII

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***

"She's in a coma." Charlie's heart dropped when Vaggie had returned from her chat with the doctor, relaying the news to the exhausted and worried princess of Hell.

It had been at least four or more hours since the incident of turf wars had made its mark and the late hours of the night had entered. Automatically her energy had been drained and all sense of rationality escaped her as well, determined to find out (Y/N)'s condition.

Vaggie and Charlotte weren't even sure if Angel Dust and Alastor were still waiting outside in the limo, but with the blonde's persistence in waiting, they don't have a choice of waiting or not.

  "No. No way, how can they tell?" Charlie breathed, refusing to believe it. The uncanny resemblance of this incident to the other incident is unlike any other— the only hope of breaking the similarities is that if she's actually awake.

  The grey skinned demon frowned slightly out of mild annoyance. "They're the professionals with more experience. We're just a group of people trying to rehabilitate demons."

  "But! They're also sinners! They could be lying!"

  "You're just pulling at thin threads now. And you're being hypocritical by saying that." Vaggie reminded her, her frown deepening. She wasn't in the best mood either. The amount of déjà vu that was induced from this experience is unpleasantly unbearable.

  The pale skinned female struggled to come up with more arguments and ending up deflating as quick as she inflated when ready to spew her protests. So instead of speaking back, she leaned back against the wall and felt the overwhelming feeling of distress wash over her again.

  They didn't know what was going to happen to the female being tended to in the hospital room. Sure they said she was in a coma, but how long? How long would she be there? Would it be the same exact time as her? Or would there be a one second gap?

  The princess felt desperate- desperate to the point she feels the need to pray that this won't play out the exact same as what had happened before. If it did, then her old man was probably correct about that dreadful, old folklore.

  "...You felt it too, didn't you?" She whispered softly, the gory moment of those spikes impaling her replaying in her head. Tears immediately materialized in her eye sockets and threatened to fall.

  Vaggie stared at Charlie, wanting to deny it. Wanting to give this poor unsuspecting girl a reason to doubt. Wanting to put her mind at ease.

  But she couldn't. So she walked up to her and cradled the silently crying female in her petite arms, her chest swelling with pained truth and admission.

  "I did. I did."

***

"Miss, please calm down!" A nurse cried out, attempting to pin your arm down as you squirm and thrash frantically in your hospital bed.

  Hissing a little at the pain that trickled through your nerves, you glare at the nurse. "You are in no position to tell me to calm down!"

  After you had your epiphany, you began to act on your emotions. You had already ripped the IV from your arm and rose up from the bed when a nurse had walked in with the previous doctor. And that led to where you are now.

"Where the fuck is Charlie!?" You shout for the female blonde, your voice tearing through the mixture of attempted soothing words of the gathered nurses and single doctor.

The doctor from before clarified a statement, somewhat hesitant with touching you as you are connected to someone rather influential, "Ma'am, there were no visitors named Charlie!"

Breathing erratically, you could feel all eyes on you as your gaze honed amongst the people, scanning their features.

Human. No animalistic appendages. Normal eyes. Normal skin colors. No doubt about it; you were no longer in Hell and were damn right alive.

The formerly present dizziness from a slumber awakening had dissipated when you realized the possibility of you being alive. The possibility of you having survived the bullet that entered your cranium.

Your body stiffened, halting all attempts to rise from your bed.

Wait- What the fuck happened with him then??

A sliver or terror raced through your heart when an image of him flashed into your mind. When his emerald eyes and sweet smile came into your mind, your entire system went haywire.

You began to avoid their prying hands, breathing becoming even more erratic. The IV that had been reattached was beginning to release quick paced beeping in synchronization with your sky rocketing heartbeat. Your lungs strained against your chest.

The world was spinning.

Does this mean you're going to be charged for murder?

Did he even survive just as you did?

What about the crime scene?

Did the investigation prove you guilty?

Most importantly, how the hell were you still alive?

"She's having a panic attack!" The voices began to be muffled as you struggle to focus, feeling the chemical imbalance begin to eat away at your mental stability.

You could barely breathe. What happens now?

You couldn't think properly. What's going to happen to you?

Tears fell down your pasty pale cheeks as you choke out sobs, hyperventilating. In a rush, you could only see the blurs of the humans you were exposed to flock around you like birds.

And just like that, you passed out.