{"sf1_id":1779914,"sf2_id":"214r3vJm","title":"Mistakes Were Made","author":"King_Degen","words":5454,"posted_at":"2021-10-30T17:21:50.000Z","tags":["Anon","Greentext","HMOFA","Horror","Human","Rabbit","Violence"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1779914-mistakes-were-made","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/214r3vJm","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/bf/a9/bfa9fa94-f130-448a-9ce3-dc4d9e58ea6d","description":"She came to fix your mistake. . . Because she loves you.  \n  \nHappy Halloween.","content":"\\\u003eYou wake up.\n\n\\\u003eAnd you feel absolutely awful.\n\n\\\u003eAlright, maybe you have to lay off the pawnch when you go to Jeremy Wheeler's parties, your head is killing you.\n\n\\\u003eYour back feels strangely sore as well.\n\n\\\u003eActually, now that you think of it, your head hurts in a different way than if you were hungover.\n\n\\\u003eMore like something cracked you across the head.\n\n\\\u003eMaybe you fell out and smacked yourself on something in Jeremy's house.\n\n\\\u003eYou sit up, with a bit of difficulty and open your eyes.\n\n\\\u003eIt's still dark, and your vision is slightly blurry.\n\n\\\u003eYou immediately notice two things however.\n\n\\\u003eYou're on a hard floor.\n\n\\\u003eAnd this is neither your, nor Jeremy Wheeler's home.\n\n\\\u003eYour vision slowly clears, and you can barely make out more of the space you're in.\n\n\\\u003eIt's very large and open. There's small amounts of light gracing the area, but they're a deep red.\n\n\\\u003eLike if a red alarm light was on, or mood lighting in a cheap motel.\n\n\\\u003eBut it's dim and slowly pulsing in and out, as if the bulbs need changing.\n\n\\\u003eThe red light bounces off of those long rectangular shipping containers, that are covering the area around you.\n\n\\\u003eTheir kind of scattered around too, not very neatly placed.\n\n\\\u003eSo judging by that fact, and the size of this building.\n\n\\\u003eYou're probably in a warehouse of some sort?\n\n\\\u003e... Why?\n\n\\\u003eHow the hell did you get here?\n\n\\\u003eYou really don't remember drinking that much. And you've never gotten blackout drunk at one of Jeremy's parties anyway.\n\n\\\u003eAnd fuck. Where's Mirabelle?\n\n\\\u003eYou went to that party together. You should still be together.\n\n\\\u003eUnless she ditched you.\n\n\\\u003e... Unless something's happened to her.\n\n\\\u003eNah, that's ridiculous.\n\n\\\u003eThis is Towngrove. Nothing bad ever happens in Towngrove.\n\n\\\u003eKnowing Mirabelle, several ideas of why you're here come to mind.\n\n\\\u003eAlright, time to find her and get outta here. this place is kind of creepy.\n\n\\\u003eYou stand up, a little shakily what with the random dull pain in your head.\n\n\\\u003eYou know what. Maybe you tripped in this low light and bonked yourself. So Mirabelle went to look for an office with a first aid kit, or to step out and call for help.\n\n\\\u003eThat sounds reasonable right?\n\n\\\u003e\"Heeey Anon. You're finally awake.\" A... Voice, calls out to you.\n\n\\\u003eYou don't know from where. It seems to, carry around the room.\n\n\\\u003eLike it's coming from above you, and right next to you, and every other direction.\n\n\\\u003eIt almost sounds familiar too, but you can't quite place it.\n\n\\\u003e... And it knows your name.\n\n\\\u003eBut you do know. It sure ain't Mirabelle.\n\n\\\u003e\"Hello?\" you call out, straining to see someone in the low light.\n\n\\\u003e\"Got you all to myself now.\" the voice says.\n\n\\\u003eHuh?\n\n\\\u003e\"Uhh, excuse me?\" you say, confused.\n\n\\\u003eThe voice doesn't respond.\n\n\\\u003eAlright. Well this is odd.\n\n\\\u003eYou don't like this. This is weird.\n\n\\\u003e\"Umm, have you, seen my girlfriend? Little white rabbit, kinda sassy?\" you ask.\n\n\\\u003e\"Your girlfriend?\" the voice repeats, very slowly. \"Why yes, she's right here.\"\n\n\\\u003eFor some reason. You kind of doubt that.\n\n\\\u003eOr, maybe you don't.\n\n\\\u003eOh God, did this person do something to Mirabelle?\n\n\\\u003eIs this like, a homeless person squatting in this warehouse?\n\n\\\u003eYou've heard that some homeless people get unimaginably defensive with the places they choose to commandeer.\n\n\\\u003eDid you two accidentally walk in here, and they attacked you?\n\n\\\u003eThat could be why your head hurts the way it does.\n\n\\\u003eYour breaths are quickening and your heart is beating faster.\n\n\\\u003eTry and keep calm.\n\n\\\u003eFear is the mindkiller.\n\n\\\u003eYou slowly check your pockets for your items.\n\n\\\u003eNo phone, no keys, no wallet.\n\n\\\u003eSo this person likely took them.\n\n\\\u003eThat's probably how they know your name.\n\n\\\u003eThat's fine, let them have your bullshit.\n\n\\\u003e\"Look, we don't want any trouble. We're sorry for invading or whatever, just let Mirabelle and me leave and you'll never see either of us again, I promise.\"\n\n\\\u003eThe voice remains silent for a moment.\n\n\\\u003eHopefully it's seeing reason.\n\n\\\u003e\"I think you're a bit mistaken Anon.\" it finally says.\n\n\\\u003e\"About what?\" you dare to ask.\n\n\\\u003e\"... I brought you here.\"\n\n\\\u003eYou think your heart just skipped a beat.\n\n\\\u003eBut, not like it does when Mirabelle's around.\n\n\\\u003eLike in a, it almost stopped, kind of way.\n\n\\\u003e\"The hell do you mean?\" you ask, trying to keep the fear from poking through your voice.\n\n\\\u003e\"Just like I said, I brought you here.\" they repeat. \"To fix your mistake.\"\n\n\\\u003eWhat?\n\n\\\u003e\"What mistake?\" you ask.\n\n\\\u003e\"The one you made last year. When you made the wrong choice.\"\n\n\\\u003e\"The hell are you talking about?!\" you snap.\n\n\\\u003eThis person is so far off the deep end, they're finding Mariana snailfish.\n\n\\\u003e\"That one, they tricked you and made you choose. You chose wrong. And ever since, that choice has been keeping you down. Tethered and docile. So I came to fix it.\" the voice explains.\n\n\\\u003eIf you can call that an explanation.\n\n\\\u003eYou bring yourself back down. You don't want to blow up again when dealing with a possible psycopath.\n\n\\\u003eYou're not even sure this is a psycopath.\n\n\\\u003eThis is Towngrove. Nothing bad ever happens in Towngrove.\n\n\\\u003eIt's probably just some wild prank. This seems like something Verne could pull off.\n\n\\\u003e\"Look.\" you say. \"I'm not too sure what you're talking about. But I am sure that I'd like to go home now. I don't know what problem you 'fixed', but if it's done, I should be able to leave right? So can I just find Mirabelle and go?\"\n\n\\\u003e\"... Sure.\" the voice says. \"But uh. If you want to find the rabbit, you should hurry. She's in one of these containers, somewhere. And if I remember correctly, these things are air tight.\"\n\n\\\u003eThe voice pauses for a moment.\n\n\\\u003e\"And you have been asleep for quite some time already.\"\n\n\\\u003e... They're joking.\n\n\\\u003e\"You're joking.\" you say.\n\n\\\u003e\"Do I sound like I'm joking?\" they respond.\n\n\\\u003e...\n\n\\\u003eHey, they might not be joking.\n\n\\\u003eThis might be real.\n\n\\\u003eThis can't be real.\n\n\\\u003eThis is Towngrove! Nothing bad ever happens in Towngrove!\n\n\\\u003eNow is the time for fear.\n\n\\\u003eYou look around quickly.\n\n\\\u003eAgain, it is still very hard to see.\n\n\\\u003eBut when those red lights flare up, it gives you a better outline of where things are.\n\n\\\u003eWhen enough of the light reveals where you are, you move toward a container.\n\n\\\u003eOf course, it would be too easy if this psycho put Mirabelle in a container this close to you.\n\n\\\u003eBut you would hate to anticipate her being distant and mess up.\n\n\\\u003eBut at the same time you would hate to waste too much time and-\n\n\\\u003eNope nope. Don't think that way, it'll be fine.\n\n\\\u003eWatch, you're going to open one of these, Mirabelle is going to jump out and yell 'you just got beaned!' or something.\n\n\\\u003e\"Mirabelle!\" you begin to shout, hoping she can hear you and respond.\n\n\\\u003eYou hope these containers aren't soundproof or something.\n\n\\\u003eYou continue to call her name while you search.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\\\u003e\"You know,\" the voice says suddenly as you check another empty container. \"With those big floppy ears dangling behind her head, do you think she can actually hear anything you say?\"\n\n\\\u003eWhat?\n\n\\\u003e\"What kind of question is that?\" you ask.\n\n\\\u003eYou'd probably be better to ignore them, but you think you've heard that in situations like this, it might be best to engage your captor to keep them from getting overly upset and doing anything rash.\n\n\\\u003e\"I mean, when you talk, do you think she actually listens to you?\" they continue. \"Actually hears what you're saying? Or does it just go in one ear and out the other?\"\n\n\\\u003e\"What the hell does that even mean? Of course she listens.\" you say.\n\n\\\u003e\"Or is that just what you've been brought to believe? Could the truth be that your words have been falling on deaf ears??\"\n\n\\\u003eYou have no fucking clue what this person is on about.\n\n\\\u003eThey go any farther off the deep end and they'll be past catching snailfish and onto shaking hands with Cthulhu.\n\n\\\u003e\"Oh.\" the voice says unconsciously as you come up to another container.\n\n\\\u003eThat was an 'oh' reminiscent of 'oh, he found it'.\n\n\\\u003eYou throw open this container and.\n\n\\\u003eThere's nothing inside.\n\n\\\u003eWait that's not true.\n\n\\\u003eThere's a tiny little stick and click light stuck to the top of the container, shining onto a box in the back.\n\n\\\u003eMaybe the box has a key or something that you'll need to unlock the container with Mirabelle in it.\n\n\\\u003eYou run in and grab the box.\n\n\\\u003eIt's not sealed or anything so you pull open the flaps.\n\n\\\u003eThis is not a key.\n\n\\\u003eThese are.\n\n\\\u003eWell.\n\n\\\u003eYou can't be sure, but.\n\n\\\u003eThey look like ears.\n\n\\\u003eFloppy white, rabbit ears.\n\n\\\u003eVery. Familiar. White rabbit ears.\n\n\\\u003eThey're bloodied at the bottom, like they were lobbed off and haphazardly tossed in the box.\n\n\\\u003eNoooo.\n\n\\\u003eNope, nope, can't be.\n\n\\\u003eYou lift your hand up and begin to reach into the box.\n\n\\\u003eYou hesitate more than once.\n\n\\\u003eThey can't be real, they have to be fake.\n\n\\\u003eYou slowly reach in and grab an ear near the top, running your thumb over the fur.\n\n\\\u003eIt's so familiar in your hand that your mind actually pictures all the times you've rubbed Mirabelle's ears.\n\n\\\u003eThe content gentle smile she would have on her face as you did so.\n\n\\\u003eYou recoil in horror and drop the ear like you just bare handed something radioactive.\n\n\\\u003eYou run out of the container.\n\n\\\u003eThat's not funny.\" you call out to the voice, your own voice laced with venom.\n\n\\\u003eThe voice doesn't respond for a long moment, before finally it says, \"I know.\"\n\n\\\u003e\"What the fuck is that?!\" you shout.\n\n\\\u003e\"It's exactly what it is.\" the voice responds calmly. \"Or do you not recognize them?\"\n\n\\\u003eThey're lying. They're bluffing.\n\n\\\u003eKeep calm. Mirabelle is fine, she has to be.\n\n\\\u003eYou take some deep breaths to steady yourself.\n\n\\\u003e\"You should hurry.\" the voice calls.\n\n\\\u003eThis is a goddamn game to them, isn't it?\n\n\\\u003eWell of course it is, that's why they're doing it.\n\n\\\u003eYou resume checking these containers with more urgency.\n\n\\\u003eIt's a good thing the doors aren't heavy or rusted. It takes barely more effort than opening a regular door, so it isn't tiring you.\n\n\\\u003eWhich is good because you need all your energy.\n\n\\\u003eHow many of these do you need to check?\n\n\\\u003eHave you been this way already?\n\n\\\u003eWhere did you start?\n\n\\\u003eShit are you going to have to backtrack?\n\n\\\u003eHow are you going to find your way back?\n\n\\\u003eWhat\u0026nbsp; if you're going north and she's actually toward the south or something?\n\n\\\u003eAll these questions run through your head before the voice calls out again.\n\n\\\u003e\"You know. I've been wondering. Is that rumor about a rabbit's feet being lucky actually true?\"\n\n\\\u003eYou don't like where this is going.\n\n\\\u003e\"I wanted to test it, but it didn't seem true to me. Although maybe it has something to do with the length of exposure. So I figured I'd ask you, since she's basically been walking all over you for so long.\"\n\n\\\u003eYou don't respond.\n\n\\\u003eThat bad feeling is getting stronger.\n\n\\\u003e\"Ooh.\" the voice says as you come up to another container, as if you've found something interesting.\n\n\\\u003eYou grab the door and pull it open.\n\n\\\u003eSame setup as last time.\n\n\\\u003eYou don't want to, but you probably have to.\n\n\\\u003eYou inch forward into the container to reach the box.\n\n\\\u003eAnd you can already tell you aren't going to like what you see.\n\n\\\u003eYou slowly pull it open, dreading what might be in there.\n\n\\\u003eAnd the object threatens to force the contents of your stomach straight out.\n\n\\\u003eIn line with the voice's ominous questioning, the answer is.\n\n\\\u003eA foot.\n\n\\\u003eFreshly severed from its host and placed inside a small cardboard box.\n\n\\\u003eYou feel sick.\n\n\\\u003eYour stomach heaves, your mind burns, your eyes are overflowing with moisture.\n\n\\\u003eAnd a terrifying visage of Mirabelle screaming bloody murder with her right foot missing invades your already addled mind.\n\n\\\u003eAnd the image pushes you past your limit.\n\n\\\u003eYou spill your guts on the shipping container floor.\n\n\\\u003eThis isn't real, can't be, no way.\n\n\\\u003eYou scream these things in your mind, as if repeating them will make the situation true, and you'll come to true consciousness heaving your guts into Jeremy' toilet or something.\n\n\\\u003eBut of course your violent expulsion of your stomach's contents end.\n\n\\\u003eAnd this nightmare does not.\n\n\\\u003eYou spit on the ground and wipe your mouth\u0026nbsp; with the flap of your flannel.\n\n\\\u003eYou stomp out of the container, half terror, half rage.\n\n\\\u003e\"This isn't funny!\" you bellow. \"Stop fucking messing with me! Just give me Mirabelle so we can leave! I'm not playing these games with you, they aren't funny!\"\n\n\\\u003eYou're still trying to cling to the idea that this is all a bad joke.\n\n\\\u003eYou're trying. But you know you're not succeeding.\n\n\\\u003eThe voice keeps quiet for an ominously long time.\n\n\\\u003e\"You're right. It's not funny.\" they finally answer. \"It's not supposed to be.\"\n\n\\\u003eYour heart is pounding now, threatening to burst from your chest.\n\n\\\u003eThis is real shit, not fake at all.\n\n\\\u003eSomething horrible has happened to Mirabelle, and it's almost certain that the same will happen to you.\n\n\\\u003eWhat are you supposed to do about this?\n\n\\\u003eFighting in the Circle didn't prepare you for going against psycho killers.\n\n\\\u003eWho are you?!\" you scream. \"The hell do you want?!\"\n\n\\\u003e\"I told you already. I had to fix your mistake.\" they reply.\n\n\\\u003e\"What mistake, there is no mistake! You're the fucking mistake!\"\n\n\\\u003e\"That's not true, that's just what you've been forced to believe right now. But you'll see clearly soon.\" they say.\n\n\\\u003e\"You- what- I don't-\" you stumble through your words.\n\n\\\u003eYou once again try to peer through the darkness.\n\n\\\u003eThe ominous red light only adds to the difficulty and builds your dread.\n\n\\\u003eWhat you wouldn't give right now to be able to see better in the dark.\n\n\\\u003eSome anthros have all the fucking luck.\n\n\\\u003e\"You should keep going.\" they remind you. \"You're almost there.\"\n\n\\\u003eDo you even want to?\n\n\\\u003eIt's getting worse.\n\n\\\u003eYou're finding pieces of what might be Mirabelle.\n\n\\\u003eOr at least you think they are?\n\n\\\u003eThere aren't many white rabbits in Towngrove.\n\n\\\u003eAnd why do you assume they're still real body parts?\n\n\\\u003eOr that you even are still in Towngrove?\n\n\\\u003eYou're losing your mind now.\n\n\\\u003eYou can't think rationally.\n\n\\\u003eYou're trying to keep calm and failing spectacularly.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\\\u003eBut something compels you to move forward.\n\n\\\u003ePersevere.\n\n\\\u003eYou continue to open containers.\n\n\\\u003eAs long as Mirabelle is alive.\n\n\\\u003eAs long as she's alive you can get out together.\n\n\\\u003eEven if she's permanently crippled, as long as she's breathing you'll help her however you need.\n\n\\\u003eYou just need her to be alive.\n\n\\\u003eYour sanity depends on it right now.\n\n\\\u003eBecause for some reason, every empty container you open seems to whisper terrible things to you.\n\n\\\u003eWhispers of failure, of suffering, of death.\n\n\\\u003eWhispers that will haunt you in this world and the next.\n\n\\\u003eWhatever lost spirits that still cling to this world are whispering of your imminent demise.\n\n\\\u003e\"You know.\" the voice says.\n\n\\\u003eOh no. Dear God no, don't.\n\n\\\u003e\"She doesn't actually love you.\"\n\n\\\u003eThat's bullshit, you want to say.\n\n\\\u003eBut for whatever reason, you can't summon your voice.\n\n\\\u003eBecause whatever this voice is about to say is going to ruin you somehow.\n\n\\\u003eJust like it has the last two times.\n\n\\\u003eWhenever it pipes up, you find a piece of Mirabelle in the next container you open.\n\n\\\u003eAnd you're terrified of what you're going to find next.\n\n\\\u003e\"She may have pretended to care for you, but she was just using you.\" the voice continues.\n\n\\\u003e\"Look how she taunts and teases you. Like you're some sort of toy for her enjoyment. It's all wrong. She doesn't love you.\"\n\n\\\u003eAnd then silence.\n\n\\\u003eA long, droning, empty silence, that grows paradoxically louder every moment it remains silent.\n\n\\\u003e\"Not like I do.\" they say.\n\n\\\u003eAnd you feel the bile struggle to rise and purge your already empty stomach again.\n\n\\\u003e\"Excuse me?\" you whisper so quietly, it almost felt like you didn't even say it out loud.\n\n\\\u003eBut the voice heard you perfectly.\n\n\\\u003e\"She doesn't love you like I do.\" they answer. \"I love you far more than any person on this planet, and she, is physically incapable of loving you in the same way.\"\n\n\\\u003eWho the fuck even is this?\n\n\\\u003eYour head hurts.\n\n\\\u003eNot from the blow you apparently took, but from the splitting migraine cutting through your brain as you attempt to make sense of what the hell you just heard.\n\n\\\u003e\"Do you know why?\" they ask when you remain silent.\n\n\\\u003eYou refuse to respond.\n\n\\\u003eThey however, take your silence as curiosity, and answer their own question.\n\n\\\u003e\"Because she doesn't have the heart.\"\n\n\\\u003e...\n\n\\\u003eYour own heart sinks into the pit of your stomach.\n\n\\\u003eNo. No no no please.\n\n\\\u003eDon't say that.\n\n\\\u003eIt had better not be what you think.\n\n\\\u003eYou won't allow it, you swear to God.\n\n\\\u003eThat voice only starts with these when you're near a container they want you to be at.\n\n\\\u003eYou walk slowly by the containers until the voice goes 'Ah', and confirms that you are where they want you to be.\n\n\\\u003e\"Please\" you beg silently. \"Don't be another box.\"\n\n\\\u003eYou open the container.\n\n\\\u003eAnd the universe denies your humble request.\n\n\\\u003eYou can already tell from where you are.\n\n\\\u003eThat box is wrong.\n\n\\\u003eThe bottom of it is dark.\n\n\\\u003eNo.\n\n\\\u003eYou don't want to open that box.\n\n\\\u003eYou refuse to open the box.\n\n\\\u003eYour heart will stop if you do.\n\n\\\u003e... Your heart.\n\n\\\u003eYour legs are inching forward on their own.\n\n\\\u003eYou take tiny steps forward, as if that box is volatile and will explode if you approach it too quickly.\n\n\\\u003eA thick irony smell catches your nose as you come up to the box.\n\n\\\u003eYou bend down, and reach for the flaps.\n\n\\\u003eYou close your eyes.\n\n\\\u003eYou don't want to see what's in there, but a force not your own commands you.\n\n\\\u003eYou take a peek through one eye, then open the other in a similar manner.\n\n\\\u003eYou immediately wish you hadn't.\n\n\\\u003eThere's a small lump of muscle and sinew sitting in the box.\n\n\\\u003eBloody and sickening.\n\n\\\u003eLess like it was cut out and more like it was straight torn out.\n\n\\\u003eYour mind falls into the sea.\n\n\\\u003eYour body follows.\n\n\\\u003eYou're lying on your back, staring up into the container.\n\n\\\u003eYour vision is fading, your muscles are going limp.\n\n\\\u003eNo, no! Don't pass out!\n\n\\\u003eYou can't afford to lose consciousness.\n\n\\\u003eYou have to fight.\n\n\\\u003eBut for what?\n\n\\\u003eTo live?\n\n\\\u003eMirabelle is. That's her...\n\n\\\u003eNO.\n\n\\\u003eYou refuse to believe it.\n\n\\\u003eThe deep red wrath that surfaced when you fought together with Mirabelle in that tournament returns with double- no, triple the burning ferocity.\n\n\\\u003eYou try to throw yourself off the ground, but your limbs are having a hard time moving.\n\n\\\u003eYou scream to the heavens as if your anguish and rage will summon an avatar of war to aid you.\n\n\\\u003eYour arms gain motion first and you crawl on your elbows until your legs gain their fighting spirit as well.\n\n\\\u003eYou step out of the container, attempting to burn holes in the darkness and locate your aggressor.\n\n\\\u003e\"I take it you didn't like what you found.\" thet say nonchalantly.\n\n\\\u003eYou point a finger into the container. \"That. Is not. Her. I want the real Mirabelle. Right now.\"\n\n\\\u003eThe voice says nothing.\n\n\\\u003e\"Now!\" you repeat, much louder.\n\n\\\u003e\"So be it.\" they say. \"Lucky for you, you're right there. Just check the one right behind you.\"\n\n\\\u003eFucking finally, you can be done with this charade.\n\n\\\u003eYou turn on your heel and step toward the container.\n\n\\\u003eYou place your hands on it, ready to throw it open.\n\n\\\u003eBut you freeze.\n\n\\\u003eYour blood runs ice cold, and you aren't sure why.\n\n\\\u003eNo. You know why, you can feel it.\n\n\\\u003eWhatever's in here.\n\n\\\u003eYour very soul knows, it isn't going to be pleasant.\n\n\\\u003eYou open the doors.\n\n\\\u003e...\n\n\\\u003e........\n\n\\\u003e.......... Oh dear God have mercy.\n\n\\\u003eIt's her. It's Mirabelle. There's no mistaking it.\n\n\\\u003eBut. She's. Not. Whole.\n\n\\\u003eIn fact, she's missing more pieces than the ones you found.\n\n\\\u003eA hand and an eye are absent alongside her ears and foot.\n\n\\\u003eAnd the large, awful gaping hole in her center.\n\n\\\u003eYour brain turns off, trying to shelter you from the horror it just processed and deemed to extreme to witness.\n\n\\\u003eIt turns your body off too for the second time in just about two minutes.\n\n\\\u003eYou fall flat, half your body in the container, the other half sticking out.\n\n\\\u003eYour face is wet.\n\n\\\u003eProbably from the tears pouring from your eyes.\n\n\\\u003eNo, more than that.\n\n\\\u003eIt smells like blood.\n\n\\\u003eMirabelle's blood travelled from her body to the entrance of this container, and you're face first in it.\n\n\\\u003eSo once again your stomach goes to purge.\n\n\\\u003eBut there's nothing left so you heave painfully for a long time.\n\n\\\u003eAfter your body stops attacking itself in fear, you push yourself onto your hands and knees.\n\n\\\u003eWhat the fuck do you do now?\n\n\\\u003eWhat can you do?\n\n\\\u003eYou want to approach Mirabelle, to confirm.\n\n\\\u003eBut there's no need for that, you can see from here.\n\n\\\u003eYou don't know-\n\n\\\u003eThere's no-\n\n\\\u003eWhat.\n\n\\\u003eYou force yourself up too quickly and stumble backward, collapsing on your ass.\n\n\\\u003e\"I see you found her. Or, what's left of her.\" the voice says.\n\n\\\u003e\"Wh- you... Wh- Why?\" you mumble.\n\n\\\u003e\"Hmm? the voice hums. \"Didn't quite catch that.\"\n\n\\\u003e\"Why why WHY?!\" You grow progressively louder. \"What the fuck have you done?! Why?! Why did you- you fucking- I can't... Why?\"\n\n\\\u003eYou breathe quickly and heavily, holding your hands over your eyes, trying to keep the tears in.\n\n\\\u003eTrying to keep the last threads of your sanity from snapping.\n\n\\\u003eYour emotions are running wild.\n\n\\\u003eYour fight or flight reactions are struggling for dominance.\n\n\\\u003eWe have to run.\n\n\\\u003eWe have to find them and fuck them up.\n\n\\\u003eWe need to get the hell out of here.\n\n\\\u003eWe have to fucking kill 'em!\n\n\\\u003eBoth extremes crash against each other in your head.\n\n\\\u003e\"I told you why. The voice responds. \"To fix your mistake.\"\n\n\\\u003eAgain with that mistake shit. What does it even mean?\n\n\\\u003e\"And, now that you can clearly see she's gone. You don't have to hold on to her anymore.\" the voice continues. \"You can live free from her oppression, you can move on. You can love another. The person you were meant to love.\"\n\n\\\u003eAnd when it next speaks, it's almost like it's speaking directly into your ear.\n\n\\\u003e\"Me.\"\n\n\\\u003eYou whip your head around and find absolutely nothing.\n\n\\\u003e\"I'll treat you right Anon. Better than she ever could, I promise.\"\n\n\\\u003e...\n\n\\\u003eYou stand up slowly.\n\n\\\u003eLooks like. Flight wins.\n\n\\\u003eTime to make a tactical advance in the opposite direction!\n\n\\\u003eYou sprint through the darkness.\n\n\\\u003eWhich is a terrible idea when you can't fucking see, but you don't care.\n\n\\\u003eYou rush this way and that, often slamming into shipping containers as you hunt blindly for an exit.\n\n\\\u003eThe pain flooding your body barely registers as the adrenaline drives you forward.\n\n\\\u003e\"Wait. The voice says. \"Where are you trying to go?\n\n\\\u003eYou say nothing. Running is more important.\n\n\\\u003eGotta be an exit. Gotta find an exit. Need to get out. Run.\n\n\\\u003e\"Anon, stop. There's no need to run. Slow down. You'll hurt yourself. You don't need to leave. It's okay. Stay with me. Don't go. Please. I need you. You have to stay.\"\n\n\\\u003eThe voice spits line after line at you, and the directions they come from are more pronounced.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eSometimes from the sides, sometimes from right behind you.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eAt one point you could swear something was standing right in front of you as the voice spoke and you almost tripped and crashed headfirst into a container.\n\n\\\u003eAnd you're no closer to an exit.\n\n\\\u003eNo wait. There's something.\n\n\\\u003eStraight ahead is one of those red alarm lights fading in and out.\n\n\\\u003eAnd as it fills in, it casts a glow over an indentation in the wall.\n\n\\\u003eWhen it fades, you can see a sliver of whitish light behind it.\n\n\\\u003eIt could be moonlight.\n\n\\\u003eFreedom?\n\n\\\u003eYou don't know but you have to take it.\n\n\\\u003eYou're gonna smash through that door and run until you either get home or find a police officer or a good samaritan somewhere.\n\n\\\u003eYou sprint like a track star going for the gold.\n\n\\\u003eIt isn't proper door breaching technique, but you're just going to throw your entire body into that door, hope it caves, and get the fuck out of here.\n\n\\\u003eCome back with men more experienced in handling chaotic killers.\n\n\\\u003eBut right now, escape is the top priority.\n\n\\\u003eYou're getting closer.\n\n\\\u003eYou prep to slam into the door.\n\n\\\u003eBut the red light flares brighter than it has while you've been in here, and as you look ahead you see something that looks like metal glinting off the red hue of the light above you.\n\n\\\u003eAnd whatever it was catches you in the leg moments before your collision with the door.\n\n\\\u003eYou go tumbling and sliding forward, mere inches away from the door, your gateway to the real world outside.\n\n\\\u003eYour leg burns. No not just burns, it's on fucking fire.\n\n\\\u003eIt feels like something ripped straight through it.\n\n\\\u003eYou roll over and look at it.\n\n\\\u003eAnd that seems to be exactly what happened, as your shin area seems to be hanging limply from a particularly tough section of meat.\n\n\\\u003eYou can see the bone.\n\n\\\u003eCoupled with the wild charge you made, and the intense mind numbing fear you're experiencing, you're surprisingly numb to the pain, but you're pretty sure your heart is seconds away from bursting.\n\n\\\u003eThat might be the pleasurable alternative to whatever happens next.\n\n\\\u003e\"Why are you running, Anon?\" the voice asks.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eAnd you hear slow measured steps coming toward you. Like, the click of heels.\n\n\\\u003eOr the clip of hooves?\n\n\\\u003eA figure stands before you.\n\n\\\u003eThey don't seem very tall. But with your vulnerable position on the floor here and your now mangled leg, they may as well be ten feet tall.\n\n\\\u003eYou can't make out any features on them at all, even with the slowly pulsating light.\n\n\\\u003eIt's as if the shadows have wrapped them in a monstrous veil.\n\n\\\u003e\"Oh I see.\" they say. \"You can't forget about her that easily, can you?\"\n\n\\\u003eYou can barely hear them over the deafening thud of your heart in your ears.\n\n\\\u003e\"And if you can't get over her, then there's no chance of you being able to reciprocate the love I have for you.\"\n\n\\\u003eYour mouth is dry like you've been strolling through the desert.\n\n\\\u003e\"She dug her claws too deep in you, huh?\" they ask, more to themselves than to you. \"I was too late. I see.\"\n\n\\\u003eYou hear a grinding sound and finally take notice of the fire axe hanging loosely at their side.\n\n\\\u003e\"The body is wrong, the soul is tainted, the mind is corrupt. But that's okay. Really. I just want your heart, Anon. So if you can't give it to me...\"\n\n\\\u003eYou look up into what you think is their face.\n\n\\\u003eAnd can see the piercing, abominable gaze, slicing through the blackness and peering out at you from those awful violet lights.\n\n\\\u003eNo, those aren't lights.\n\n\\\u003eIf there was a word to describe darkness shining outward in the same way light does, you would use it to describe the orbs glaring at you.\n\n\\\u003eYou can feel the malice, the malevolence, the misery permeating your very being as this creature stares at you.\n\n\\\u003eThey raise the axe high over head.\n\n\\\u003e\"I guess I'll just have to take it, huh?\" they finish their thought.\n\n\\\u003eYour eyes dash between the sharpened blade and those tenebrous orbs locked firmly on you.\n\n\\\u003eYou try to speak, to scream.\n\n\\\u003eMaybe you can bargain.\n\n\\\u003eLie to them to save your life.\n\n\\\u003ePretend to say you can love them.\n\n\\\u003eBut you can't.\n\n\\\u003eNo words come.\n\n\\\u003eYour mind moves a thousand miles per hour but your mouth is slow as a sloth.\n\n\\\u003eA twitch of your murderer's hands, and the blade comes down.\n\n\\\u003eIt tears into your chest, cleaving through flesh and bone.\n\n\\\u003eYour mind screams in pure terror, but your voice is still cowed into submission.\n\n\\\u003eYou reach your hand up for mercy.\n\n\\\u003eThey casually slap it back down, then reach to wrench the axe free.\n\n\\\u003eThey bring it back up, then it comes crashing down.\n\n\\\u003eAnd you-\n\n\\\u003eYou shoot up in your bed, gasping for air, feeling like you've been moonwalking on the sun, and skinny dipping in the waters of Antarctica.\n\n\\\u003eMirabelle stirs awake next to you, with significantly less urgency than you.\n\n\\\u003e\"You okay?\" she mumbles, still mostly asleep.\n\n\\\u003eYou don't answer, instead trying to fill your lungs with the precious oxygen you feel like you weren't getting.\n\n\\\u003eMirabelle notices your heavy breathing and your lack of response, and comes to clarity much sooner.\n\n\\\u003e\"Are you okay?\" she asks, more clearly and with more worry.\n\n\\\u003e\"Mhm.\" you mutter, finally beginning to catch your breath. \"Just uh... Had a nightmare.\"\n\n\\\u003e\"Oh is that so?\" she says, laying back down.\n\n\\\u003eYou can only assume she has also applied her grin of smug.\n\n\\\u003eBe right back.\" you say as you get up.\n\n\\\u003eYou head to the bathroom to apply some cold water to your face and dry the places on your body that feel like they were soaked with sweat.\n\n\\\u003eYou come back in gently, to avoid stumbling in\u0026nbsp; to anything. But you know your room pretty well so that doesn't normally happen.\n\n\\\u003eYou change your shirt as well.\n\n\\\u003e\"I told you it was getting late, and you should cut the horror movies, but no.\" she tells you as you get back into bed. \"You just had to watch that last one about the murderous stalker girl chasing her ex boyfriend.\"\n\n\\\u003eYep, that's on you, you may have hungered for one too many spooks.\n\n\\\u003e\"And now you're having nightmares.\" she says patting you on the back.\n\n\\\u003e\"Okay, I goofed, you're right.\" you assent. \"Mistakes were made.\"\n\n\\\u003eMistakes were made, indeed.\n\n\\\u003e\"You gonna be okay?\" she asks.\n\n\\\u003e\"Yeah.\" you say as you lie back in bed. \"Probably.\"\n\n\\\u003eShe chuckles. \"Well just think of me when you go to bed. I'll show up in your next nightmare and mess them up.\"\n\n\\\u003e\"You're awful with horror, how are you gonna be any help?\" you ask.\n\n\\\u003e\"Well. If I show up and you think I'm in danger, maybe you'll go crazy and slaughter whatever monster was terrorizing you.\"\n\n\\\u003e\"... Sure, that could work.\"\n\n\\\u003eShe moves in closer and wordlessly holds you close.\n\n\\\u003eYou turn and mirror the gesture.\n\n\\\u003eYou feel a bit better already.\n\n\\\u003eHowever, you're probably not going to get to sleep as easy now.\n\n\\\u003eOne thing bothers you.\n\n\\\u003eThat nightmare was pretty vivid and intense.\n\n\\\u003eUsually your nightmares are simple and pathetic, like you open a box and oh no, the box is full of spiders. Or, you walk down a street and as you turn the corner, oh god scary gutter clown.\n\n\\\u003eBut this one was lengthy and in depth.\n\n\\\u003eAnd it had.\n\n\\\u003e... It had a lot of.\n\n\\\u003eWait, what was it about?\n\n\\\u003eGoddamn it you hate when that happens.\n\n\\\u003eActually, this is one time where you'll be glad to have immediately forgotten what happened in your mind.\n\n\\\u003eYou snuggle closer into Mirabelle and attempt to drift off to sleep.\n\n\\\u003eBut. There's one part of the nightmare that you remember that doesn't seem to want to leave you alone.\n\n\\\u003eWho the hell actually was that nightmare killer?\n\n\\\u003eDidn't look like the actress in that horror flick you watched, or any of the others for that matter.\n\n\\\u003eNow that you think of it. You kind of remember them having violet eyes?\n\n\\\u003eWho do you know with eyes that color?\n\n\\\u003eSomebody right?\n\n\\\u003eAh well, it was just a bad dream, and has nothing to do with your current predicament.\n\n\\\u003eMirabelle is safe and whole in your arms. And you are of similar form. That's not going to change any time soon.\n\n\\\u003e... You do hug her just a tiny bit tighter though as you try to drift off to bed.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nAuthor Notes:\n\nHappy Halloween all. Make sure you practice safe spooks.\n\nWanted to put together a quick something for Halloween, because I fucking love spook month. However, I am by no means a Stephen King, so it might not even be all that scary. Maybe if I read more horror stories instead of watching horror movies, it might help me out for the next time I try to write a scary story.\n\nNot really connected or foreshadowing anything in my normal KotR stories, just used Anon and Mirabelle because, it's easier to work with what's familiar, I\"d say.\n\nLet me know how you feel about this one."}