reiddacted

[reiddacted]

angels and cowboys

part 1/?

word count- 3045 warnings- talks of a body/corpse summary- you find a body, you don't know what to do, the fbi is called, things just suck.

“I can normally tell how intelligent a man is by how stupid he thinks I am.” Cormac McCarthy

Three days ago, you found a body. Face down and nude, covered in mud and nearly hidden within the earth. It could��ve been missed. You stared at it for ten minutes unblinking, your mind unable to fully understand what it was that you were seeing. When the realization that what you were seeing was real finally sunk in, you found yourself unsure what to do. Leaving it seemed cruel, and touching it was out of the question.

In the end, you left it alone, went home and then smoked a cigarette. It didn’t calm you down. You stared at the wall in your bedroom before swallowing heavily and trying to sleep. You didn’t. You couldn’t. You still stayed in bed until the sun rose.

Eventually you forced yourself out of bed. You smoked a cigarette in your kitchen as you called the sheriff with shaking fingers and an overwhelming nausea.

It was still there- still laying face down- when they came to collect it. You’re not sure if that's good or not.

The next day you didn’t think about it. You walked your property and did your work. You did not think about it. You found a broken fence. You did not think about it.

You see it in your dreams and pretend it didn’t make you wake up to throw up.

Today, you’re standing on your porch, looking down your driveway with a cigarette between your lips waiting for the goddamn FBI. Your eye twitches. The sheriff- Owen Mackens- is a man who can’t keep his hands steady to pull his gun out of its holster and is as meekly spoken as you can get when it comes to telling people news that he knows they’ll hate. Which is probably why he told you that whatever agents got sent, would probably need to stay with you and then promptly hung up before you could say a word back.

The more you think about it, the more you realize you’re going to strangle him when you see him.

You take another drag of the cigarette- the goddamn smoke burns now- and you keep staring down the driveway until you see two vehicles- a black SUV and Mackens’ old dingy patrol car- begin to make their way up your long dirt roadway. You sigh before flicking the cigarette off to the side of the porch and cross your arms over your chest.

Mackens parks a good few yards from the house, pulling off the side and under a few of the trees that you just could never bring yourself to cut. The SUV however, pulls up all the way to the house and you have to suppress a smile. You watch as it comes to halt and the engine is cut and then the doors are swinging open.

As the doors open, four people step out, three men and one woman. The smile you’re fighting becomes even harder to keep off your lips when you see how one of the men is wearing converse and has stepped in a puddle that has no doubt soaked into his socks. You watch as his face twists into something that looks like distress and disgust and it makes you feel a little better about everything.

The others do notice the unfortunate choice of parking but are much better at hiding their reactions. One of the men even elbows the converse wearer and says something that gets a glare back. The woman and the other man are the first to approach you. You keep your arms crossed, taking them in and finding the fact that the man is wearing sunglasses in low sixty-degree weather is another thing to be annoyed about.

The woman at least has a kind look about her. She’s also the only one wearing shoes that are even slightly appropriate so you might have a bias already. The agents stop at your steps, seemingly waiting to see if you’ll move down to greet them. You don’t move from your spot on the porch.

You just raise an eyebrow as you ask, “You the FBI agents I’m supposed to be housing?”

The woman at least has the decency to look away, seemingly a little ashamed.

The man just keeps his mouth set in a firm line, “In a way. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is SSA Emily Prentiss,” He looks behind him at the other agents still by the car, before looking back at you, “And SSA Derek Morgan and Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Your eyes narrow as you look at the two agents he just introduced, “Neither of ‘em really scream ‘doctor’.” Your eyes fall on the man who had his shoes soaked, with limbs too long and awkward, like they grew too fast and he never got used to them. Your eyes narrow once again when you see the gun on his hip, clearly on display, “Can he even shoot that?”

Your voice must’ve been a little louder this time, because the two men turn towards you. One laughs, while the one resembling a snag looks away almost nervously.

“I promise all my agents can handle their weapons and Dr. Reid is no exception.” Hotchner says, voice cold and firm. It reminds you of a man you had once met in a bar. And then it reminds you of your father, “Would you mind if we come inside?”

There’s not much that you would mind more, but you glance down the driveway at Mackens and you can see that he looks scared. You just sigh, closing your eyes as you step to the side of the stairs. You look down at the agents and nod towards your house. “I’m assuming you can get the door on your own.”

Hotchner’s face does not change from that deep frown as he walks up to your front door. Prentiss follows behind, giving you a kind- but weak- smile. Morgan and Reid are quick to follow. Reid avoids your gaze by turning his head as he passes you. You watch as they all disappear into your house before turning to look at Mackens who is clutching his hat to his chest and a face that screams apologetic.

“Look, I’m sorry-” “I don’t like this, any of this.” You interrupt and Mackens looks down at the ground, “So understand, I’m going to let them do their jobs, but I’m not going to pretend I like any of them being here.”

You watch as Mackens nods his head, gaze still on the ground, “Understood.”

You roll your eyes and begin to move towards the door, stopping when your hand wraps around the doorknob, “And if they’re stayin’, I’m expecting some fucking help.”

You don’t wait to hear if Mackens even bothers responding before pulling the door open and stepping inside your home. You can see the agents moving in the kitchen and you glance down at the shoe rack, taking note of the fact that none are present. Your eyes travel to the floor and you feel heat rise to your face when you see the mud that is now tracked through the house. You take a deep breath, leaving your own boots on as you walk to the kitchen.

The agents are all standing up around the table, talking quietly. They go silent when they see you in the doorway. You can feel that your face is still red. You look at each one of them, before your eyes land on Hotchner and bite the inside of your mouth as you try to keep yourself from yelling.

“Don’t wear your shoes in my house again. Take them off at the door.”

Hotchner meets your gaze- his glasses now placed in his coat pocket. You watch as his bottom eyelids raise slightly. He nods slowly, “Moving forward, we’ll all keep that in mind.”

The front door opens and you can hear Mackens beginning to walk, pausing and continuing, his steps now slightly unsure. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s also kept his shoes on. You also know that he saw the lack of ones by the door and is now thrown off. His face confirms it when he comes into view at the kitchen doorway, looking down at your boots with confusion. When you catch his eye, he’s quick to look away.

There’s an awkward silence- one of your own doing a small voice nags at you- but you can’t bring yourself to try and make it better. This is the most people in your house in years, and none were invited. You can hear your mother’s voice telling you to offer coffee, to make the guests feel at home. You can hear your father’s voice begin to yell at her.

Your eyes move from each of the agents, taking them in and trying to get a feel for them as quickly as possible. They all seem to be trying to busy themselves, looking around your kitchen. Part of you wonders if there’s a reason, or if they’re just acting out the human urge to try and avoid something. Hotchner is looking at you. Or rather staring. He doesn’t seem to blink.

You hold his gaze and blink to see if anything changes. It doesn’t.

“S- So, the agents here- are here, excuse me- because, well, uh,” Mackens stumbles over his words and you already know his ears are growing red, “They just-”

“We just want to ask you a few questions.” Hotchner interrupts- Mackens breathes out heavily in relief- and his eyes don’t move from you. It’s been over a minute and he still hasn’t blinked, “Just so we can have a better understanding of what we need to start looking for.”

Your eyes narrow before darting over to Reid standing near the window, moving his head as if trying to see as much of the land as possible. You keep watching him as you ask, “Kind of an overreaction, ain’t it? Bringing the FBI out here for one body.”

Your stomach lurches as you say that. It’s cruel and awful to refer to them as a body. Your mother’s voice is stern as she tells you ‘That was someone’s baby’.

But you push her aside and instead focus on the fact that suddenly, everyone is glancing at one another. Prentiss’ eyebrow is raised as she looks at Morgan and he gives her a shrug. Hotchner looks at Mackens with an even deeper frown before looking at you. He finally blinks. 

Reid keeps looking out the window.

There’s a feeling that begins crawling over your skin, making the hairs raise. You suppress a shiver and replace it with a small quick inhale through your nose. The feeling is overwhelming, one that makes you almost ill whenever it plagues you.

They know something you don’t.

“Have you been aware of why we’re here?” Hotchner asks, and this time his voice is different. Still firm and cold, but there’s an almost gentle way he’s approaching things now, “Why some of us might need to stay with you?”

You consider returning the gentle tone, maybe try and show that you don’t actually want to be difficult. But instead, you just gross your arms over your chest and spit out, “No, can’t say I’ve been made aware of anything. I got the phone call about you coming this mornin’.”

Hotchner tilts his head, looking at Mackens and for a moment you see a familiar kind of anger and then he’s looking back at you, “You are aware of the body found two days ago, correct?”

“Yes.” I found it, “I’m aware of it.”

“And you were not told about the previous ones found beforehand?”

You should be surprised. You should be shocked. There should be terror griping you at the idea of this not being a one time thing. And maybe if you were younger, or if you weren’t where you were, you would act correctly. Instead, you just hum around your guilt and remind yourself that they were all someone’s baby.

“No, I was not told about any others found.” Your voice is flat and it just makes you annoyed, “So, what? Our station got overwhelmed by three bodies?”

Hotchner scowls at you and you can see the gentleness starting to leave, and then you’re even more annoyed, “We were asked to help prevent another murder from happening.”

You glare at Mackens who just looks at you with a pleading look in his eye, “We don’t have the experience or manpower to handle this properly-”

“So you decided to send them?” You snap and Mackens flinches, “This is not my problem, nor did I ask to get involved. Why the hell are they in my home when you got a perfectly fine station, Mackens?”

“We’ll need to compose a geo-profile of our unsub’s comfort area of where all the bodies were found,” Ried interjects, turning away from the window to look at you. His hands are out in front of his body, making small gestures that he doesn’t seem to be aware of, “If we can find out where he likes to operate, we’ll have a better chance of actually catching him.”

You don’t even fight the glare that you shoot at Reid and he looks down at the ground as his hands sneak into his pockets, “Again, I don’t see why that has to be done in my home and not at the station.”

“We understand that you didn’t ask to be involved,” Hotchner says slowly, coldly. You kinda miss the gentle tone, “However we are asking for you to have a certain understanding as well. As of now, we have three dead women and probably more to come. And one of those women was found on your property. So, to actually make sure we don’t lose anyone else, we are asking you to cooperate with us.”

It’s a fair statement. It’s even reasonable. But there’s something that just makes you want to scream like a child because it doesn’t feel fair. However, before you can say anything else, Prentiss is suddenly speaking and suddenly it feels like the wind gets knocked out of you because she just sounds patient.

“The sooner we can catch this man, the sooner we’ll be gone.” Prentiss offers you something that is close to a smile, just not quite, “And if it helps… Only one of us will be staying here. We just can’t keep driving out here where we’re actively looking into other things, too much of the day will be eaten up.”

You look at her, really look at her. She’s almost familiar, in the same way the stranger you keep seeing at the grocery store is. A deep ache fills your chest and all the frustration and anger that was beginning to build within you just dies. It’s a sense of defeat that you don’t often feel. You let out a small sigh, looking away from Prentiss to turn your gaze back at Hotchner.

“Fine.” Your voice is still clipped and short, but it has less of an edge, “What do you want me to do?”

You can hear Mackens make a noise that sounds like relief again and you suppress an eyeroll. Hotchner stays silent, but his eyes narrow at you and you wish he would just say that he’s bothered. Morgan is the one to actually speak up after clearing his throat and stepping forward.

“Would you mind showing us where the body was found? Just walk us through that day.”

You frown, not too thrilled about the idea, “All of you?”

Morgan shakes his head, his eyebrows slightly raised as if trying to give a more open kind of expression, “No, just Reid and I.” You glance at Reid who hasn’t looked up from the floor. His hands are still in his pockets.

“Why only you two?”

“Prentiss and I are going to stay near the house and main road, Mackens will be with us.” Hotchner says simply, no room for argument.

Your eye twitches and you push down the comment that they could’ve just sent Morgan and Reid to begin with. And then you have to bite your tongue from mentioning the fact that you shouldn’t have to be involved with the investigation. But you know you’ve already been difficult enough, and the idea of continuing a conversation with Hotchner makes you exhausted.

So, you just nod, the frown on your lips only deepening as you motion at Morgan and Reid, “Alright… You two can follow me.”

You don’t wait before turning around and making your way to your front door. Muscle memory has you stopping to grab your shoes and you let out a frustrated sigh when you have to remind yourself your boots are still on your feet. You push the door open and hope the cold air will help keep your growing agitation down.

You can hear footsteps behind you and you don’t need to turn around to know it’s Morgan and Reid. You hate how your mind already knows their footsteps. You shove your hands into your coat pockets and begin to walk down the driveway, bypassing the SUVs that the agents had arrived in.

“Hey, are we not-”

You don’t even have to let Morgan finish talking to know what he’s about to ask and you interrupt without thinking, “We’ll walk along the road for about ten minutes and then have to cut back onto my property.” You keep walking, avoiding the puddles you know are much deeper than they appear, “There isn’t a road you can drive on.”

“Is that why the sheriffs had such a hard time retrieving it?” Reid asks, his voice almost energetic, curious.

It’s also why you had to see it again.

You swallow thickly and just nod your head as you reach the end of your driveway, “Yeah, not an easy spot to get to if you don’t know where you’re going.”

You step onto the main road, glancing behind yourself to look at Reid and Morgan. Your eyes glance down to their shoes, already caked in mud and grime. You raise an eyebrow at them before beginning to walk again.

“I’d suggest investing in some better shoes.”

[reiddacted]

aftermath || unsub!raymond wadsworth universe

in which raymond struggles to leave the body alone, despite his girlfriends insistence

this is 1.6k words of her trying to get him to leave + some small raymond pining because im nothing without mgg characters yearning. im going to try and find some sort of schedule for posting but i need to figure out where this is going to go next bc i want to dive into the killing more but also idk HOW..anyways i hope you enjoy <3

cw: talk of killing, blood and a dead body but its not too graphic

‘no regrets’

she’s lost count of the amount of times he’s whispered those words in the last few minutes. he’s still crouching beside the body, his eyes tracing the outline again and again. she hasn’t moved from her spot in front of him. she pays the body no mind, all her attention, all her focus is on him. to her he looks like a work of art and she never wants to look away.

he lifts his head, locking his eyes onto hers. his adrenaline is starting to calm down again and he’s starting to come back to himself. the guilt is seeping back in but he won’t let it, he won’t let it overpower him. not when she's looking at him like that. she's proud, so proud of him. he killed a man, all because she told him to. he killed a man and she's staring at him like he’s given her the world.

“stop looking at me like that” he whispers, his voice cracking on every word.

“and why should i stop?” she replies, her voice smooth and calm. no hint of worry, no hint of disgust, just her usual calming voice and just like it used to do, it grounds him.

he blinks at her a few times, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find an answer to her question. why should she have to stop looking at him like that? 

“i killed a man” 

“yes you did” she nods slowly. “and i was the one to bring him to you raymond”

he doesn’t have an answer for that, because she's right of course. she planned this entire night, she brought up the idea, she found the man, she brought him here, raymond doesn't know how she did that and he’s certain he doesn’t ever want to. she orchestrated this entire night, and he was just a willing puppet for her. he killed a man all because she asked, and he’d do it again. he’d do it a thousand times over if it meant she’d stay by his side.

the guilt finally fades away again and he finally lets go of the knife, shoving it into his back pocket, feeling it no longer burn his skin. her eyes are on him the entire time, the same smile on her face.

“what- what do we do now?” he whispers, looking back down to the body.

“we leave genius” she grins, moving away from the body and waiting for him to stand.

“okay we just le- no!” he exclaims, his head snapping back up to look at her. “we- we can't just..we can't just leave him here we- we need to hide him. yes! yes, we need to hide the body where no one will ever find him then we need to clean up and-”

she watches him, practically grinning as he jumps to his feet, waving his hands frantically as he drives to form any sort of plan in his mind.

“raymond” she calls out softly. no response, he just starts pointing back down at the body like he needs her to see it again.

“raymond!” she tries again, louder this time. he’s panicking again, stumbling over his words as he tries to form a single sentence to explain what to do next. she cant help but feel amused as she watches him, it’s cute, watching him flail about. however, he still isn’t listening to him so she floats over to him, her feet landing on the floor in front of him, inches apart

“hey” she snaps her fingers in front of his face, finally getting his eyes on her. they're slightly glazed over and very dilated but she can see the love in them the second they land on her. “take a breath love”

he freezes the second he lands in front of him and his mouth snaps shut. he blinks at her a few times, clearing his mind before he takes a very deep breath on her command. she grins and tilts her head, looking down at the body behind them before fixing her attention back on him.

“good boy” she nods, smirking as a faint flush blooms on his cheeks. his brain short circuits for a few seconds before he realises this is not the time or place for him to get flustered over her words again so he looks away and takes another breath. 

“what..do i do?” he whispers, ignoring her gaze and amused expression.

“i already said what we’re going to do” she replies, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she watches him try and protest again. “nuh-uh, we’re not going to hide the body, we ain’t gonna clean this mess up, we’re just going to leave”

“we?” he huffs, fixing her with a blank stare. she isn’t doing anything, she can’t do anything. 

“fine- you aren’t doing any of that- apart from leaving, that you are definitely doing”

“but-”

“why are you so adamant that you should hide him and clean up?” she groans, stepping to the side to stop him from walking back to the body. “you think that just because you killed the guy you suddenly have an obligation to tidy up after him? what are you gonna scrub the floors clean? bury him in a grave? cover him in flowers?”

he glares at her, crossing his arms. she’s right of course, how does he expect to clean all this up? how does he expect to haul a fully grown man into a grave? how does he expect himself to even dig a grave?

“you can’t take back what you did” she continues, softer this time. “cleaning up won’t do that..and besides i- i thought you had no regrets”

“i-” he takes another breath, more shaky this time as his expression changes between guilt, fear, love (when his eyes settle on her for a moment), then back to guilt. “i don't regret it i just-”

he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence because he just doesn’t know what to say. 

“i- i just killed a man” he whispers, repeating his words from earlier. his heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest, panic flooding through his veins, and she’s just..so calm. no hint of guilt on her face, just a smirk. 

“we established that” she nods, looking down at the body. “you’re a killer, you killed a guy- well done, gold star whatever- now lets go before some drunkard shows up and you get spotted”

he runs a bloodied hand through his hair, looking back and forth between her and the body, and he doesn’t move.

“you wanna stay here and mope?” she rolls her eyes, dropping to the floor, sitting in the blood. it doesn’t even cause a ripple. “then fine. let's sit and mope” 

his eyes widen for a moment as she sits in the blood, temporarily forgetting that she literally is a ghost and very much not alive. like the body behind her.

he shakes his head, snapping out of the daze he’s in and looking down at her.

“get- get up” he sighs, stepping backwards.

she jumps up, floating back over to him and stopping in front of him, searching his face for something, any indication of what he's thinking and feeling now.

he just stares at her, his eyes studying every part of her face. he memorised her years ago, studied every part of her, committed it to his memory. it helps calm him, watching her, drinking in the sight of her infront of him. she's here, and that's all that matters. god, if he could kiss her he would. what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss her again, even just touch her. he swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes widening slightly as he stares at her. but he can't touch her and she can’t touch him. she can’t touch anything.

“we- i-” he sighs, running a hand down his face smearing blood on his nose and lips. “ew” his face screws up in disgust, now trying to frantically wipe it away.

she smiles, reaching out to rub it off his face, but her hand just goes right through him, like always. it hurts, and it always will hurt to not be able to touch her. he feels goosebumps rise on his skin as her fingers go through him. it hurts, it hurts so much knowing he has her back in his life, but knowing he will never be able to touch her again. it makes his heart ache. 

he takes a final deep breath, blinking back tears before stepping around her and walking towards the doors.

“don’t touch anything” she whispers, following after him. he just nods, his eyes fixed on the gap he crawled through to get in. she just floated through the wall. 

they turn their heads, taking one last look at the body. the man is laying there, the blood finally stopping. he’s now bled out, exsanguinated. the blood is now just running along the floor, the puddles growing in size. it stinks, and raymond is more than ready to get out of here. 

“okay” he whispers crouching down in front of the hole. he looks up, watching her pass through the wall. it’s..insane. she’s still not used to being able to do it, and he is definitely not used to watching her do it. his eyes stay locked on her as she floats out the other end, it’s mesmerizing and for some reason helps calm him. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts again as he ducks into the hole, heading through.

as he stands up, he brushes his hands down his shirt. he looks like a blood stained horror show, and she thinks he’s the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

“let's go home” she whispers. she holds her hand out, and tho he cant take it he holds his own out. the empty space makes their hearts ache, but they don’t let it show.

“let’s go” he replies.

“But if it be never - if I can never hold sweet converse again with her, or look upon her face, or know from her her love; why, then, this side the grave, I will live as becomes the man whom she loves.” - Anthony Hope

[reiddacted]

before || unsub!raymond wadsworth universe

a glimpse into the first time raymond spoke to the love of his life

hi! this took me SO long to build up the courage to post and i am really struggling figuring out how im going to lay this fic out, so i may end up changing how i post it but for now this is just the meet cute i suppose? fluff :3 which is rare for me

no content warnings!!

raymond wadsworths life began at seventeen. raymond wadsworths life began when he spoke to her.

sure he’d seen her around school for the past four years and sure he already knew how kind she was, how she would light up a room, how she would help anyone or anything in need, how beautiful she was.. yes he’d noticed it. he’d noticed her, hell he was completely enamored by her before they even spoke. how couldn’t he be?

she knew who raymond was, of course she did. he wasn’t the kind of person you would notice at first, he wasn’t the kind of person who had many friends. he kept to himself, he never made many friends, he’d always have his head stuck in some sort of spirit or ghost type book which other pupils would bully him relentlessly for, and he was SUPER into paranormal shit, he didn’t hide that. in her eyes he seemed lonely and so so interesting. god she was curious. she wanted to get to know him and yes she would stare at him across classrooms, hallways, the library but she’d never speak to him. she couldn't. not until the perfect moment. 

tarot. that was her secret 'thing' she supposed. she loved all things to do with spirits, tarot, ghosts..anything paranormal and otherworldly, she was obsessed, and she knew that when the time was right to talk to him, she would know. she would let her cards decide her fate on a weekly basis, she would communicate with spirits on full moons and during a new moon she would reflect on her life, set goals and cleanse herself. 

the time came one tuesday morning, nothing special. she was sitting in her room, doing her daily tarot reading when she got the card she’d been hoping for, for the last four years. the lovers. in four years she never came across that card, it was never displayed to her in any reading she would do for herself or others would do for her, so she knew. 

that morning she practically ran to school, she was vibrating in her seat all day hoping for a glance of him. she didn’t exactly know what she was going to say to him..’hi raymond, ive been watching you for four years but ive never spoken to you because i had to wait for my tarot cards to tell me!’ sounds..well it doesn’t sound great. so to say she was stressed was an understatement.

he was in the library of course, his head buried in yet again another paranormal book, ghost hunting. she perked up at the sight having had read that book a few years ago back when she was in what her dad called, ‘her freak ghost phase’..tho she never really left it. she slowly made her way over, her legs feeling like jelly as she stood by the desk. he didn't even look up, too engrossed in his book. cute. 

she sighed and tilted her head, standing awkwardly for a few seconds before deciding to just sit down. which she did, right across from him, and he still didn’t look up. so she decided to just start talking about the book.

honestly she was a rambling mess, words spilling out of her as she recalled everything she could remember about the book. she was so engrossed in what she was saying, so concentrated on staring at the book and not his face, too afraid to look up and see a look of disgust or uncomfortableness on his face. which meant she didn’t catch how he was really looking at her. 

the second she opened his mouth his attention snapped to her and he couldn’t help but stare. she was talking to him, to HIM. he could hardly breathe as he took in her words, her voice. oh god her voice. he swore he never had and never would hear a sound more prettier than that. he just sat there and listened to her ramble, his eyes completely fixed on her, the book falling from his fingers as he took in everything about her. the way her hands waved and fidgeted as she spoke, the way her face screwed up for a few second as she tried to remember an important detail, the way her eyes lit up every time she remembered something new- he was completely under her spell and he knew he could never break free, and he knew he never wanted to. 

raymond was seventeen when his life began. and he was twenty two when his life ended, or more accurately, her life ended.

'Tell me then, does love make one a fool or do only fools fall in love?' - Orhan Pamuk

[reiddacted]

nintendo 64

word count- 784

warnings- references to an injury, mentions of blood, mentions of vomit/vomiting, suicide thoughts/ideation, references to abuse

a/n- this one is heavy and confusing, but i wanted to try and show what this scene might've felt like. haven't posted any of my writing in a very long time, but i hope you enjoy <3

There is a wound. Seven inches wide. Three inches deep. It has not stopped bleeding.

The pain is excruciating. It’s constant and loud, never giving the body a moment of rest. It just kept screaming, wailing as the mind tried to shut itself down.

There is a bandage- reused and stained from the past- but it’s barely helping. It was just placed on the shoulder. No one even checked to see if it would stay.

It has not stopped bleeding.

The shoulder is jolted and it’s screaming again, loud and blinding in its pain. This time, however, the wound makes noise. A real sound, which is strange. It shouldn’t happen. The wound doesn't have lungs or a tongue, it shouldn’t be making actual noise. The screaming gets louder and it’s getting more confusing, more unlikely and then-

It clicks.

Nico is screaming. It’s so obvious, so clear. And suddenly, Nico feels more stupid than he does in pain. That feeling is short lived, but it allows his body to have a break for the first time in-

How long has it been?

Nico tries to think. The pain is unbearable. It’s growing. Festering. He came down the ship alone. Everyone else was upstairs. There was another boat. He is alone. It’s festering. He is alone and it’s boiling-

Nico screams again. It has not stopped bleeding.

The scream is painful in and of itself. It tears Nico’s throat apart. He tastes metal. He tries to look down, tries to look at it but his vision is blurry, darkening and then becoming blinding. It nearly makes him sick.

When he actually looks at the wound- it is seven inches wide, three inches deep- he gags. His throat still burns from his scream and then it burns even more when the acid that sits in his stomach floods upward.

He clamps a hand over his mouth. He screams again. It has not stopped bleeding.

His head is spinning. His shoulder hasn’t stopped wailing.

Nico feels like he’s going to die and there’s part of him that begs, aches, yearns for that to happen.

He can’t get enough air into his body. He wants to die. God, please let him die.

Nico is suddenly back on land. Away from the boat. Away from the ocean. He’s sitting in his childhood bathroom. His mother is angry, yelling at him. She yelled a lot. She was always loud. Nico is crying. He cried a lot. He’s glad he was able to be quiet at least.

His mother’s arms are waving, and each time one of her hands comes a little too close to his face, Nico has to remind himself not to flinch. He doesn’t know what she’s so upset about. Sometimes she would yell without allowing him to know. He could ask. He could just ask and maybe she would tell him. Maybe-

She shoves two things into his hands. Then, she’s walking out of the bathroom and slamming the door. He hears her lock the door. He’s still crying. He’s still quiet about it. His hands are shaking as he looks down and his breath hitches as he realizes what’s been placed in his hold.

A needle and thread.

Nico is thrown back to the boat. The memory had hit him violently but the present somehow hits him even harder. This time when he feels himself getting sick, he is unable to stop it from happening. He hates himself. He prays to God. He wants to die.

It’s still bleeding. 

When he snaps his jaw shut, stopping the flood of bile from pouring past his lips, he struggles to do a simple task like breathing once again. His body is shaking. His back is against the wall. He is alone.

He looks down, and Nico is almost shocked to see the needle and thread still in his hands. He stares at the two items. His vision threatens to give out. The needle- shining metal that glows in the darkness of the small room- and the thread is thin- red, it will be blinding against his skin.

He doesn’t understand. 

It’s still bleeding.

He looks at the wound- it is seven inches wide and three inches deep. His vision swims. His head is no longer in the room. He wonders if it’s on the boat. Maybe he’s in the ocean just a few feet below him. He thinks about jellyfish. Some live for years, and will outlive every human that might ever see them. Others will die after one day.

He can’t stop thinking about jellyfish.

He wonders if God will be kind and let him come back as one.

He keeps staring.

It’s still bleeding.

He understands.