Mob 5.7 Preview (Draft) (Patreon)

Mob 5.7

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“I'm sorry. It's just...”

“I love you…”

“Greg… sweetheart…”

“I love you…”

“I'm worried that if I don't hold on, you'll just… run away…”

“My worst nightmare…”

“You're all I have left.”

“I'm sorry… for everything…”

00:00​

"Mo-!"

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

April 18, 2011

12:28 AM

Greg Veder let out a deep gasp as he jerked awake with a start. The boy shook as he scrambled around in confusion, unseeing eyes wide with shock. Breathing heavily, the blond let out another shuddering breath, a coating of sweat lining every inch of his body despite the chill of the air on his bare skin. He sat up where he was, hands scrambling for purchase across the gravel that he could feel under him. Where… where am I?

He opened his mouth to voice that same confusion, only to find himself cut off as he let out a pained retching noise. “Wha-” The boy paused, coughing again as he choked on the words. “Whe-” His body only continued to fight him, rejecting his attempts to put words to his thoughts as the more he tried to speak, the harder it became. What he knew as his own voice came out raspy and hoarse, as if he had spent an inordinate amount gargling the gravel that was currently underfoot. “Wha-” 

One hand going to his throat, Greg’s body jerked forward as his frame was wracked with a hacking fit, the boy coughing for all his worth. A few seconds of this passed until he was nearly hunched over completely until finally, “...Hrrrrk!”

Something thick and bitter spilled from Greg’s mouth, the blond retching even more as the disgusting taste of the gelatinous substance lingered on his tongue. Blood? 

The smell and taste of it was all too familiar, but the texture was something else entirely and a wholly unwanted surprise for Greg as he retched up everything he could feel clogging his throat. Mouth and nose filled with the disgusting taste and overpowering stench of rusted iron, the boy simply remained where he was, continuing to heave as the congealed substance continued dripping from his mouth. Thick blood? What the-

Chest still heaving like he had just run a marathon, Greg scrambled back from whatever he had just thrown up, a horrified expression on his face. His bare hands and feet skittered on the gravel, sending the small rocks darting away from him as he kicked and pushed himself back, not stopping for a second until his back slammed into something firm, his head slamming into it an instant later. 

-2

What? Pale eyes widened as Greg’s hands rose to pat at the surface behind him, confusion clear on his face. A wall?

A brick wall, by the feel of it. 

Another surprise, but a far more welcome one than the blood.

Greg tilted his head, blinking as the feel of the crumbling brick under his hands brought a thought to mind, the blond shaking his head as he began to recall exactly how he had gotten here.