night falls and i'm alone (open)
Who: flensing and You
What: Hiding.
Where: Outside town, in the woods.
When: Aftermath Friendly Reminder
Warnings: Anna is an unstable torture survivor, PTSD and otherwise full of a variety of triggers and crazy. She is from a horrific horror movie with horrific things described in gory detail beneath. SO. YEAH. WARNING WARNING. DANGER WILL ROBINSON.
It had crawled towards her in the street. The reanimati with its hideous limbs and the rusted metal pieces which held it together in its miserable form. It had crawled, unable to stand and barely human at all, it had crawled towards her like an animal.
She had seen such a thing before, in her 'reality'. Whatever reality meant if such nightmares were allowed to thrive within its darkened corners. The lines were blurred, it did not matter, it did not matter what was real and what was fantasy, it was all equal in its horror.
She remembered. She remembered the things she had seen in that basement. She remembered that poor screaming woman whose head had been fused inside that horrible sightless helmet. That torturous thing that had been nailed into her skull. Anna remembered, prying it loose, watching blood well up from between beneath the plating. She remembered how skin had pealed away with the apparatus when she had pulled it off, how wet and how putrid it had been. How that woman had sobbed. How her body had been covered with cuts and sores, old scars and new lesions in her starving flesh. Every bone exposed.
They had shot her. They had shot her in the head with a hunting rifle, and on the floor behind her, Anna had been spattered with her blood and brains. Anna had tried to help her, had tried to soothe her, but she had failed just as she had failed Lucie. If they had not shot her, she would have flayed off her own skin, trying to cut free the insects which haunted her tortured mind.
That was what she had seen beyond reality. Insects. (They were all insects, weren't they, sad scurrying little things waiting for some cruel spirit to crush them, they were helpless, hopeless...)
The reanimati had come crawling towards her. Like an insect, and Anna had not hesitated an instant to run back the car with the creature dragging along at her heels. Had not hesitated an instant to take Lucie's shotgun, always loaded, and to fire both buckshot rounds into the creature's twisted flesh.
It went still, and she climbed into her car and she drove. She did not stop until she was far from the city. She saw the watchers in the trees above, and she drove onward until they bothered her progress no more.
She did not know where she was. A clearing, somewhere, it did not matter. It was quiet, and she set up camp with the supplies that had always been in the trunk of her car. She hadn't unloaded any of it since Lucie died. It was lonely, but she worked mechanically. She made coffee with a tiny tin pot over a hand-built fire, and she did not sleep. With a loaded shotgun, she waited out the horrors on her own, haunted by memories.
She sleeps, eventually, and she wakes screaming in the light of dawn, scrabbling for her shotgun and firing blindly out into the woods. She sits inside her tent trembling, staring sightlessly at the holes she's created in the fabric.
She'll need to repair them. But first she reloads her gun.
[[ooc; Please for the love of god switch to action if you want to come investigate those gunshots.]]
What: Hiding.
Where: Outside town, in the woods.
When: Aftermath Friendly Reminder
Warnings: Anna is an unstable torture survivor, PTSD and otherwise full of a variety of triggers and crazy. She is from a horrific horror movie with horrific things described in gory detail beneath. SO. YEAH. WARNING WARNING. DANGER WILL ROBINSON.
It had crawled towards her in the street. The reanimati with its hideous limbs and the rusted metal pieces which held it together in its miserable form. It had crawled, unable to stand and barely human at all, it had crawled towards her like an animal.
She had seen such a thing before, in her 'reality'. Whatever reality meant if such nightmares were allowed to thrive within its darkened corners. The lines were blurred, it did not matter, it did not matter what was real and what was fantasy, it was all equal in its horror.
She remembered. She remembered the things she had seen in that basement. She remembered that poor screaming woman whose head had been fused inside that horrible sightless helmet. That torturous thing that had been nailed into her skull. Anna remembered, prying it loose, watching blood well up from between beneath the plating. She remembered how skin had pealed away with the apparatus when she had pulled it off, how wet and how putrid it had been. How that woman had sobbed. How her body had been covered with cuts and sores, old scars and new lesions in her starving flesh. Every bone exposed.
They had shot her. They had shot her in the head with a hunting rifle, and on the floor behind her, Anna had been spattered with her blood and brains. Anna had tried to help her, had tried to soothe her, but she had failed just as she had failed Lucie. If they had not shot her, she would have flayed off her own skin, trying to cut free the insects which haunted her tortured mind.
That was what she had seen beyond reality. Insects. (They were all insects, weren't they, sad scurrying little things waiting for some cruel spirit to crush them, they were helpless, hopeless...)
The reanimati had come crawling towards her. Like an insect, and Anna had not hesitated an instant to run back the car with the creature dragging along at her heels. Had not hesitated an instant to take Lucie's shotgun, always loaded, and to fire both buckshot rounds into the creature's twisted flesh.
It went still, and she climbed into her car and she drove. She did not stop until she was far from the city. She saw the watchers in the trees above, and she drove onward until they bothered her progress no more.
She did not know where she was. A clearing, somewhere, it did not matter. It was quiet, and she set up camp with the supplies that had always been in the trunk of her car. She hadn't unloaded any of it since Lucie died. It was lonely, but she worked mechanically. She made coffee with a tiny tin pot over a hand-built fire, and she did not sleep. With a loaded shotgun, she waited out the horrors on her own, haunted by memories.
She sleeps, eventually, and she wakes screaming in the light of dawn, scrabbling for her shotgun and firing blindly out into the woods. She sits inside her tent trembling, staring sightlessly at the holes she's created in the fabric.
She'll need to repair them. But first she reloads her gun.
[[ooc; Please for the love of god switch to action if you want to come investigate those gunshots.]]