I Have no Mouth, and I Must Scream [Active/Open]
Characters: Alfons Heiderich, maybe others?
Setting: Golden Bathroom
Time: Day 007 mid-morning.
Summary: Alfons wakes up from his short nap in the bathroom and cracks just a little bit, especially since, even with the time going as it is in this house, he realizes that his 18th birthday would be sometime around today. Others can invade and see the emo, if they wish.
Warnings: Emo!Fons.
He wasn't sure when he'd stumbled in here...or what had happened when the night wore on…or was it the day? He was sure he had left during the morning hours, sunlight blinking through the window and he himself unslept and rumpled. It was a haze, really, and with his arms and legs aching as they were, he must have went to several different areas, trying to find some sort of solace from whatever it was eating inside his gut, only to find himself wandering and hiding until he…
He must have fallen asleep somewhere.
...at least. That's how it seemed. Even now, he still wasn't sure how he got here.
Alfons blinked his eyes.
The bathroom was covered on each side with walls, so even in this room it was almost the same as the rest of the house would have been under the blanket of its cruel and heartless night. Even with the abominations wandering the halls still, with the heartrates of everyone around him rampant. The air was tainted with fear, his own mind starting to whirl…
…
How long had it been? Long enough, perhaps…
…Christmas had passed, it seemed…or something like it. The November Sun had turned to the Snow of December, and then snow fell some more, and time passed…
February…
February would be now. Somewhere around early February, perhaps.
!!!!!
February?!?!
It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be early February.
If it was, then...that meant...
...
The Thirteenth.
The thirteenth would come, and then it would be--
Happy birthday to me, Alfons thought sourly, attempting at least a small semblance of a smile. I'm alone in this place, and I've just spent which might be the first day of my eighteenth year of life in a bathroom akin to a man heaving over a toilet.
Good job, Alfons.
Good job.
A little more depression and he could have easily passed as his father, touching the bottle.
Wouldn't that have been interesting...