Peter sat outside Maria's hospital room. A doctor sat beside him, rubbing his back and trying to cheer him up. "I'm so so sorry for your loss, Peter. She was a great young woman."
He sat there, tears stinging his eyes. Those emerald eyes were nothing but red and dry from all the crying.
"She's gone. I'll never see her again... Never hold her in my arms again." Peter sobbed.
His hair and clothes were soaked from the rain, and Maria's blood still stained them. He didn't have the energy to change out of them.
Eventually, he was sent home from the hospital. The doctors had said to try and sleep, but no amount of sleeping pills or sound machines could get him to sleep. It didn't matter how many pills he took.
Peter lay in his bed, twirling the necklace Maria had given him. It was a lovely gold pendant with a picture of them in the center.
"I miss you, Maria..." Peter whispered in a sob, his voice cracking as he held back more tears. "I miss you more every minute."
He lay there with the pendant in his hand, pill bottles scattered across the floor. Some bottles were empty, while others were filled with one or two pills. He'd been taking a lot of melatonin in an attempt to sleep, but his nights remained the same. They were filled with nightmares and waking in a cold sweat.
He sighed and stood up, kicking dozens of bottles aside. "I know how much you'd hate seeing me like this," Peter said tearfully, looking at the photo. He closed the pendant and stashed it in his pocket.
It had been almost a week since it happened, and Peter was still a wreck. His grades hit an all-time low till he just stopped going to school altogether. He took pill after pill, trying to forget that night, and had even begun cutting himself.
He couldn't stand hearing that everyone was sorry for his loss. It just reminded him more of it. Every day was the same and filled with everybody being "worried" about him.
Wake up, go to work, and then visit Maria's grave with flowers. He was such a wreck that he couldn't even attend her funeral. Peter's friend, Annastasia, tried to help him, but she couldn't even reach him. He had shut out everyone to prevent more hurt.
What made things worse was that Michael blamed Peter for her death. Maria's father was handling it equally poorly, if not worse. Instead of getting closer to Peter, he shut him out.
Peter grabbed his coat and went to the cemetery. Maria's grave was in the back, surrounded by flowers. Most of the flowers were from Annastasia because she was also Maria's close friend.
He looked at the grave. "Here lies Maria Violet Morris. Beloved daughter and friend." He placed the flowers down, a bundle of Bleeding Hearts. Maria loved Bleeding Hearts.
"I'm so sorry, Vee... I'm sorry I couldn't save you." He cried, falling to his knees in front of her headstone. His arms wrapped around the stone, crying and leaning on it.
He sat there crying, unbeknownst to him that he wasn't alone. Beside him, a cloaked figure stood. The figure was invisible to all, and even Peter was unaware of its presence, but this figure was no stranger to Peter or his struggles.
"Your time is ticking, Morgan... You shall be together soon." The figure spoke, but no one heard. The figure stared down at a pocket watch with its bone clockface.
As he stared, he noticed the hands twitching. The figure made a slow and somewhat ominous laugh as he saw the twitching. Whatever it meant, he clearly knew this was different, and the figure vanished in a cloud of black ash that again went unnoticed. "Your time here is just beginning, Child."
Peter stood suddenly weakly. A cold chill had run down his back. "I need to explain to Mr. Morris what happened."
Peter looked at the pendant again. He stumbled his way to Maria's house, weak with sorrow.
He knocked on the door. Mr. Morris opened the door, glancing at the knife on the table beside him.
"You stay the fuck away from here, Peter." Mr. Morris shouted and looked at the knife with a twitch in his eye. "You took the only joy in my life."
"You never loved her anyway, Peter." Mr. Morris said as he slowly closed the door. Peter pushed against the door, and Peter's eyes welled up with tears as he looked down at the ring he was going to give Maria. "I loved her more than you could know."
"I loved the way she smelled like a fresh batch of cinnamon cookies each morning, the way she giggled when she blushed, the way she parted her hair, the way she would hug me..." Peter sighed, tears rolling down his cheeks as he remembered her fondly.
"...but what I miss most of all..." Peter wept, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Most of all, I miss who she was."
He backed up. "I didn't kill her. I'm not the bad guy, Morris." Mr. Morris removed the knife from a table beside him.
"I don't want to hear your goddamn lies!" He shouted and thrust the knife forward, trying to stab Peter. Peter grabbed his hand and pushed against him, the blade inches from his face.
He pushed against it, struggling to keep the knife from cutting him. His teeth clenched, and his fists became red as he struggled with Mr. Morris.
Mr. Morris cried out as the blade slipped and tore into his socket, a thick black substance pouring down his face. Mr. Morris stumbled back.
Peter stood in shock as Mr. Morris grabbed the blade in his face. Mr. Morris's body shook violently. Peter ran, dropping the pendant as he darted for the cover of the trees.
Peter dashed into the forest, his panic growing as he felt an eerie presence. Peter stood enveloped in darkness, beholding a monster.
The creature's skin was inky black and seemed to merge with the gloaming of the night. Its limbs were long and gangly, with bones protruding through its starved frame.
Blood poured from its eyes and the wound upon its head like a sickly waterfall. Uneven stitching held its gaping maw open in a permanent smile, if you could call that gleaming devil grin a smile.
Its eyes were sewn shut with a mixture of rusted staples and loose threads, yet somehow still pierced the soul of anyone who'd dare look at them.
The creature just stood there twitching. Its body seemed to be struggling with something. Voices swirled around Peter as though he and the monster were not alone.
The creature lunged at him, the disembodied voices screaming louder and louder as the beast tore into Peter's flesh. Light suddenly illuminated the pitch blackness.
It shined on the creature's back, revealing hundreds of cuts and burns and even a rusted knife on its right upper shoulder.
A child's voice screamed, "I don't want to hurt people, but it craves," Which seemed to escape the creature's lips as it looked up towards the light. The beast quickly darted further into the woods, knocking an old tree ajar as it balanced itself. 35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqvxcPWWdCo
