[ The voices of the dead chatter in Quentin's ear. Scott says that whatever state the cabin's in, it can't be any worse than his and Ash's apartment. Shelly, the last passenger in the car and Scott's girlfriend, sullenly agrees with him; there's a container of chili buried in the very back of their fridge that's been there since December, and she should know because that's her container. Linda talks about her classes. She's pre-med and close to graduating, and once they get back to East Lansing she'll get a sample of the chili and take it to a lab to see what kind of bioweapon Ash and Scotty have on their hands.
Ash sheepishly agrees to help her. It would give him an excuse to clean. And, he adds in a quieter voice with the sense of a smile, it could be fun. Who knows what they'll find?
It could be fun. Ash's voice seamlessly melts into a long, drilling scream. A sudden flare of white light flickers against Quentin's cheek as the call screen changes. Now it's a video.
Ash is on his hands and knees in the living room of the cabin, beating the floor with his fists. Screaming through the pain. Screaming himself hoarse. His clothes are still bloody in the places where where Quentin dismembered him. His voice rackets through the phone's tiny speakers, maddened with grief and fury.
Even when one of his hands finally gives out, he continues to pummel the ground with the other, slamming it into the floorboards, up and down like the stroke of a bloody hammer, over and over until he's left shivering and huddled on the floor. Ash curls into himself, panting, and utters a cracked, choked giggle that turns into a long, broken sob. ]
[ It's a video, probably, a memory. His strong sense of dream logic tells him that much, but it reminds him too: it's a phone call. Someone is there. That feels better. If it's a call he could actually do something about it instead of watching, churning-- ]
Okay. Okay enough. [ Which way is the cabin anyway? Could he make it out there tonight? His ribs still ache but he spins slowly, trying to pick out the right direction. ] I see him, I get it, just stop. Ash?
[ The video continues. There's no progress bar, no option to skip or pause the feed. Even as the phone vibrates with a new text notification and the screen whites out as the message pops up, Ash's voice can still be heard, even if not fully understood. Some of the words he brokenly hiccups sound like names.
Cheryl, Scott, Shelly. Linda — Oh, Linda. ]
STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP
[ The word mockingly cycles down the screen. ]
IT NEVER STOPS EVEN IF HE LEAVES THIS HOUSE HE WILL NEVER LEAVE THIS HOUSE
[ Above Quentin's head, the trees groan. The branches move like claws rubbing together in the wind. ]
[ Never leave the house, but he's supposed to be the one that left, the lucky one that slips away--Maybe with a little help from a friend. It has to stop, if it followed Ash here and Quentin cut the damn thing out of him, it has to stop. ] Why?
[ Fun, as fun as flayed knuckles smashed into the floorboards. As fun as pulling off skin with your teeth. Anger comes hot and comforting compared to the nauseous fear; he leans into that. ]
Fuck you. Fuck all of you, I did the ritual, you have to leave him the fuck alone!
[ Again, that endless scrolling. Each line quavers more uncontrollably than the last. Quentin has said a lot of things since that first message, maybe more than what should be advisable given the circumstances, but this. This.
This is by far the funniest. ]
THERE WAS NO RITUAL THERE WAS NO MAGIC NO MIRACLES ALL YOU DID WAS SPILL INNOCENT BLOOD
[ Breathed, shaking his head. He spent months. He did the research. He made deals, shaking in Lisa Sherwood's hovel and wringing his fingers out of their joints as she took a hot knife into his mouth. He trapped and drugged and ripped apart his friend, his friend, his own friend, it can't have been for nothing.
[ He moves deeper into the woods, scouring for the path to the cabin, leaking (praying): ] no no no no no no...
THERE WAS NO RITUAL HOW COULD THERE BE IF WE HAD NEVER TAKEN HIM?
[ In the video, Ash has stopped sobbing. Tap out of the message, and Quentin will see that he's begun to stir from his place on the floor. He wipes his tears. He has the same look in his eyes as he did when Quentin had him on his back in the basement in Backwater. Desperate, determined, agonized — and now, pissed.
He picks himself up and starts staggering to the front of the cabin. The messages continue in the background. ]
THERE IS NO SALVATION FOR ASHLEY WILLIAMS HIS DESTINY WAS INKED IN BLOOD AND BOUND IN FLESH MILLENNIA AGO WE ARE ENTWINED FOREVER
BUT YOU, QUENTIN SMITH
[ The video flickers to black. ]
YOU'RE JUST A LITTLE BOY WITH A DIRTY SOUL NOT EVEN THE MAGGOTS WANT YOU AFTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE
[ It wiggles, worms somewhere deep. He'd shove it off as lies, as manipulations, just something he needs to clarify with Ash, his Ash, not the mad person these videos keep showing him. But the last wobbling words grinds against something so deep, so sore, so true that it rings through his body like a twinged nerve.
[ Maybe the rest is true, too.
[ He stills where he stands, face contorting at the phone, at the overcast sky. He twists the device in his hands so that the screen hides in his palm. What has he done? ]
[ The phone rumbles gleefully in his hand, spitting truths Quentin might not want to see. But eventually he will. He will. When he pulls his palm away from the screen, he has one final message waiting for him: ]
THE CHOSEN ONE MIGHT NOT LOVE YOU ANYMORE BUT WE DO WE'LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU QUENTIN SMITH
YOU'LL ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE DOWN IN THE CELLAR WITH US ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS UNLOCK THE DOOR AND LOOK INSIDE
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Ash sheepishly agrees to help her. It would give him an excuse to clean. And, he adds in a quieter voice with the sense of a smile, it could be fun. Who knows what they'll find?
It could be fun. Ash's voice seamlessly melts into a long, drilling scream. A sudden flare of white light flickers against Quentin's cheek as the call screen changes. Now it's a video.
Ash is on his hands and knees in the living room of the cabin, beating the floor with his fists. Screaming through the pain. Screaming himself hoarse. His clothes are still bloody in the places where where Quentin dismembered him. His voice rackets through the phone's tiny speakers, maddened with grief and fury.
Even when one of his hands finally gives out, he continues to pummel the ground with the other, slamming it into the floorboards, up and down like the stroke of a bloody hammer, over and over until he's left shivering and huddled on the floor. Ash curls into himself, panting, and utters a cracked, choked giggle that turns into a long, broken sob. ]
no subject
Okay. Okay enough. [ Which way is the cabin anyway? Could he make it out there tonight? His ribs still ache but he spins slowly, trying to pick out the right direction. ] I see him, I get it, just stop. Ash?
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Cheryl, Scott, Shelly. Linda — Oh, Linda. ]
STOP
STOP
STOP
STOP STOP STOP STOP
[ The word mockingly cycles down the screen. ]
IT NEVER STOPS
EVEN IF HE LEAVES THIS HOUSE HE WILL NEVER LEAVE THIS HOUSE
[ Above Quentin's head, the trees groan. The branches move like claws rubbing together in the wind. ]
ASK US
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Why can't he leave the house?
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THE SAVIOR IS SO MUCH FUN TO PLAY WITH
[ Savior. The word jitters on the screen. ]
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Fuck you. Fuck all of you, I did the ritual, you have to leave him the fuck alone!
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RITUAL
RITUAL
RITUAL
RITUAL
RITUAL
[ Again, that endless scrolling. Each line quavers more uncontrollably than the last. Quentin has said a lot of things since that first message, maybe more than what should be advisable given the circumstances, but this. This.
This is by far the funniest. ]
THERE WAS NO RITUAL
THERE WAS NO MAGIC
NO MIRACLES
ALL YOU DID WAS SPILL INNOCENT BLOOD
no subject
[ Breathed, shaking his head. He spent months. He did the research. He made deals, shaking in Lisa Sherwood's hovel and wringing his fingers out of their joints as she took a hot knife into his mouth. He trapped and drugged and ripped apart his friend, his friend, his own friend, it can't have been for nothing.
[ He moves deeper into the woods, scouring for the path to the cabin, leaking (praying): ] no no no no no no...
no subject
HOW COULD THERE BE IF WE HAD NEVER TAKEN HIM?
[ In the video, Ash has stopped sobbing. Tap out of the message, and Quentin will see that he's begun to stir from his place on the floor. He wipes his tears. He has the same look in his eyes as he did when Quentin had him on his back in the basement in Backwater. Desperate, determined, agonized — and now, pissed.
He picks himself up and starts staggering to the front of the cabin. The messages continue in the background. ]
THERE IS NO SALVATION FOR ASHLEY WILLIAMS
HIS DESTINY WAS INKED IN BLOOD AND BOUND IN FLESH MILLENNIA AGO
WE ARE ENTWINED FOREVER
BUT YOU, QUENTIN SMITH
[ The video flickers to black. ]
YOU'RE JUST A LITTLE BOY WITH A DIRTY SOUL
NOT EVEN THE MAGGOTS WANT YOU AFTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE
no subject
[ Maybe the rest is true, too.
[ He stills where he stands, face contorting at the phone, at the overcast sky. He twists the device in his hands so that the screen hides in his palm. What has he done? ]
no subject
THE CHOSEN ONE MIGHT NOT LOVE YOU ANYMORE BUT WE DO
WE'LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU
QUENTIN SMITH
YOU'LL ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE DOWN IN THE CELLAR WITH US
ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS UNLOCK THE DOOR AND
LOOK
INSIDE