The room is an endless hospital hallway filled with shattered glass window-combs and sirens glistening over the intercom.
"Room number -̵̨̠̩͎̗̺̘̼̟͍̼̻͖͖̎͒̄͜-̶̡̢̘̭̝̣̮̥̖͖̩̻̰̮͑̀̒̋͆̿̈̓-̸̼̩̦̌͐̃̍́͠-̷̧̱̖̪͔̲͔͇͚͖̉̒̆̑̉̉̓͛͒̾̚," says the nurse. Akira turns and looks up. The nurse at the station doesn't have a face, just another hand, long and snakelike and made from charred bones. She looks like the skeleton of a dead tree. "Fourth on the right."
He looks down the infinite hallway. He sees his reflection in the glass combs. He's young, small. He has two broken sandals on his feet.
Quietly, he moves forward. His sandal taps the side of a glass shard and
"YOU DID THIS TO ME."
Akira flinches back. The words echo through the hallway and screech in his bones, clawing his nerves, convulsing him forward-- another piece of glass goes flying as he stumbles--
"GET AWAY FROM ME. I WON'T LET YOU HURT MY FAMILY!"
what did he do? what-- what happened? It's a different voice, one that heaves desperation and vomits terror-- and his palm-- he's on the floor and his hand goes right on a shard of glass--
"YOU'RE SO CLUMSY. I CAN'T BELIEVE I GAVE BIRTH TO SOMETHING AS PATHETIC AS YOU."
Help! His cries are muffled. The nurse at the station doesn't hear. He slips again--
"HELP? GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET AWAY FROM ME!"
Help me--! Somehow, he's at the door, the hospital room, crawling on his hands and knees through the glass on the white, uncaring tiles. I love you! Please, what are you doing? shaking hand reaches for the door fingers on the handle-- it glows sickly green and black and it's moist and wriggling in his hand-- Help! Please--! I love you--!
""I HATE YOU!""
Mom!
Mom! Akira wakes up in a scramble trying to get free and then there's nothing to tear into it's just the floor and the floor is hard and he didn't even notice he was falling until his knees were already bruised his hands were already scratched from the fell and where's his glove the air is like cold water in his lungs where is his glove which way is up he finds his desk and hauls himself up his glove his glove his glove is on but it's not even enough
where's dad dad knows everything dad makes everything better dad can fix the world dad can fix me
out into the hallway he turns on the light but then it's just the hospital again and he turns it off before the glass comes back
dad's room dad's room it's right down the hall dad's room is
closed.
Oh. His stomach churns; reality hits him square in the abdomen. He hunches over, leaning on the wall for support.
This...isn't home. Isn't Dad's apartment. And Dad isn't here. The only person who is here is Dr. Maruki, who doesn't like it when he's too clingy or needy or...
Akira flops over, slumping down to the ground. He considers knocking anyway. Thinks better of it, of course. Wraps his arms around his legs, skin digging into leather, curling into a ball.
He's only been awake for like a minute, and he's already so exhausted. Each exhale into his knees fills him up with more of it, the dizzying static of exertion. His knees are...wet? Oh. He's crying.
When the static of exertion turns into the whispers of sleep, of the faint lullaby dreamer, come back to us sung by humming electronics and shifting carpet, he offers no resistance. Akira passes out in the hallway, in front of a door he won't open that leads to someone who doesn't want to see him. The lullabies promise him escape into something better.
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branchandroot
[ at Maruki's apartment, late at night / cw horror b/c nightmare]
Date: 2025-01-15 05:28 am (UTC)"Room number -̵̨̠̩͎̗̺̘̼̟͍̼̻͖͖̎͒̄͜-̶̡̢̘̭̝̣̮̥̖͖̩̻̰̮͑̀̒̋͆̿̈̓-̸̼̩̦̌͐̃̍́͠-̷̧̱̖̪͔̲͔͇͚͖̉̒̆̑̉̉̓͛͒̾̚," says the nurse. Akira turns and looks up. The nurse at the station doesn't have a face, just another hand, long and snakelike and made from charred bones. She looks like the skeleton of a dead tree. "Fourth on the right."
He looks down the infinite hallway. He sees his reflection in the glass combs. He's young, small. He has two broken sandals on his feet.
Quietly, he moves forward. His sandal taps the side of a glass shard and
"YOU DID THIS TO ME."
Akira flinches back. The words echo through the hallway and screech in his bones, clawing his nerves, convulsing him forward-- another piece of glass goes flying as he stumbles--
"GET AWAY FROM ME. I WON'T LET YOU HURT MY FAMILY!"
what did he do? what-- what happened? It's a different voice, one that heaves desperation and vomits terror-- and his palm-- he's on the floor and his hand goes right on a shard of glass--
"YOU'RE SO CLUMSY. I CAN'T BELIEVE I GAVE BIRTH TO SOMETHING AS PATHETIC AS YOU."
Help! His cries are muffled. The nurse at the station doesn't hear. He slips again--
"HELP? GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET AWAY FROM ME!"
Help me--! Somehow, he's at the door, the hospital room, crawling on his hands and knees through the glass on the white, uncaring tiles. I love you! Please, what are you doing? shaking hand reaches for the door fingers on the handle-- it glows sickly green and black and it's moist and wriggling in his hand-- Help! Please--! I love you--!
""I HATE YOU!""
Mom!
Mom! Akira wakes up in a scramble trying to get free and then there's nothing to tear into it's just the floor and the floor is hard and he didn't even notice he was falling until his knees were already bruised his hands were already scratched from the fell and where's his glove the air is like cold water in his lungs where is his glove which way is up he finds his desk and hauls himself up his glove his glove his glove is on but it's not even enough
where's dad dad knows everything dad makes everything better dad can fix the world dad can fix me
out into the hallway he turns on the light but then it's just the hospital again and he turns it off before the glass comes back
dad's room dad's room it's right down the hall dad's room is
closed.
Oh. His stomach churns; reality hits him square in the abdomen. He hunches over, leaning on the wall for support.
This...isn't home. Isn't Dad's apartment. And Dad isn't here. The only person who is here is Dr. Maruki, who doesn't like it when he's too clingy or needy or...
Akira flops over, slumping down to the ground. He considers knocking anyway. Thinks better of it, of course. Wraps his arms around his legs, skin digging into leather, curling into a ball.
He's only been awake for like a minute, and he's already so exhausted. Each exhale into his knees fills him up with more of it, the dizzying static of exertion. His knees are...wet? Oh. He's crying.
When the static of exertion turns into the whispers of sleep, of the faint lullaby dreamer, come back to us sung by humming electronics and shifting carpet, he offers no resistance. Akira passes out in the hallway, in front of a door he won't open that leads to someone who doesn't want to see him. The lullabies promise him escape into something better.
Maybe this time they'll be right.