Chapter Text
Stewart’s stomach hurt.
He didn't mind it at first, he ate a snack right before he went back to studying.
Nothing seemed to be wrong afterward, just a few more hours of studying before bedtime. One class over another, another note and another, and one recording of the lesson repeated until every word is engraved into your brain.
Everything was fine.
Normal even before a sharp pain sprang through stopping the teenager’s numbing routine.
Stewart hissed, hands holding onto his stomach as he hunched himself over. Bile rose at the back of his throat, a wave of nausea ran through his body, and his body shook with uncertainty.
No.
Not now.
Why now?!
Stewart got out of his chair, stumbling over with his two left feet, one hand over his mouth, and the other moving anything out of the way. He burst through his bathroom door, legs failing him as he fell onto the cold floor. Not minding the pain that ran through his knees, the blond rushed to open the toilet seat and finally let out what was been inside of him for so long.
Clumps of, at first, the teenager considered to be the remains of the snack he ate a while back. But was shocked to see clumps of hay fall out of his mouth and fly down like paper onto the toilet water below.
He paused, face scrunching up in confusion before another round of pain ran through him.
Stewart yelped, his body seizing up in shock before he fell over at his side. He opened his mouth to throw up again, maybe screaming at how much suffering he was in before hay had clumped itself at the back of his throat. He choked, struggling to breathe as his body, once again, shook in agony at this unknown source of agony.
Stewart reaches his hand over at his bathroom counter, his fingertips stinging as bugs had bitten him. He perched himself up, vision blurred by his tears, the teenager struggling to keep himself together as his body ached to no end. It felt like something was going through his skin, like millions of bugs were begging to get out in any way they could.
It hurt.
My God, did it hurt!
But once Stewart opened his eyes, once again, blinking away the tears or whatever was covering them by now. He must have been sweating, the pressure building up and around and inside of him. If he could, he would pray but all that went through his mind was trying to see what was wrong with him.
The moment he saw himself was when he completely stopped.
An agonizing scream rang through the Winthrop household, two of the three family members all looked over in shock. Mrs. Winthrop had a look of disdain on her face while two of her children had a look of worry on theirs.
She looked back at her children, and immediately they looked back into their books.
“Ignore him.”
And they did even when the two wanted to see what was wrong.
It must have been a few seconds that passed before a loud thud was heard. And another and another and another and so on.
The older woman got up from her seat, not a smudge of worry on her as pure rage wrapped her senses. She cursed her firstborn, clicking her tongue as she rushed herself up the stairs. One child had risen from their seat and the other held them down, only a look given to another to not intervene.
The mother rushed to her son’s room, she hadn't bothered to knock as she let herself in.
“Stewart!” She screeched, one hand raised and the other crushing the doorknob beneath her, she stopped.
The room was a mess.
An absolute and complete mess.
The mother let out a sigh, eyebrows scrunched down, and mouth hung open. She could barely believe what she was seeing.
The expensive curtains were torn to threads, the clean carpet was ruined with dark stains, and the countertops were broken with a force like no other. It seemed like a hurricane ran through the room and ruin everything Mrs. Winthrop had worked so hard for.
And rage was all the mother would have for that unpredictable son of hers.
“Stewart! Stewart, where are you?!” She walked through the mess, raising her dress to prevent it from getting messy. “Stewart, so help me, if you don’t show up, I will drag you out myself!”
Had she seen the hay below her very heels?
The long scratch marks across the walls?
The horrid stench that ran through the air?
The blood that seeped through the carpet below?
Had she felt drops fall through the ceiling above onto her dainty head?
She gasped, looking up at what could have ruined her perfect hair. Her once rage-filled face then turned that fear upon looking over the creature above.
Even in the darkness, she could see and hear its pain. The agony of what was once human transformed into a being possibly not of this world or maybe was.
The burlap was torn, the hay spilled in between the stitches, claws digging through the ceiling for leverage, and the face.
My God, that face...
It looked like a skeleton almost, the skin outstretched and torn to no end, fangs stretched as far as they can go, and those eyes that can outshine the room if they could.
“Stewart?”
The being opened its mouth, and red gas foamed out and filled the room immediately. The woman rushed to the door, coughing, but was stopped by the creature falling to stop her. Its body hunched over the main entrance, it closed it with such force that it might as well shake the entire room.
The woman stopped, fear completely overtaking her entire body.
And as the creature came close to her cowering form, it whispered only one word.
“Scream.”