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Player was back there again… The heart in front of them beat in sync with their own. They patted themselves down, they didn’t have their sword. The sheath on their belt was empty, their backpack missing from their person.
Before they had time to get their bearings the bleeding heart in front of them twisted and morphed. It unwrapped itself, and in what emerged was Hatred.
Its body grotesquely contorted as it slowly slithered towards Player. They jumped back, falling onto their ass.
Hatred laughed, “H O W . . . P I T I F U L . . .”
Hatred changed, its body elongated and formed into the Blackrock King. A twisted black and red version of him. Its smile was unnaturally wide with blood red, razor sharp teeth. Its skin was melting like ice. Revealing a red skull with icicles stabbing through the bone.
“I did what I had to…” Player whispered. Their eyes on the pitch black floor.
Hatred moved fast. It got right into Player’s face. Suddenly, it was Griefer. With that same disturbing smile and bleeding red eyes it always had went it pretended to be people. “D I D Y O U ?” Hatred cackled.
Player crawled back and instinctively brought their arms up to block their face like they were about to be physically struck. “I—“ their voice was cut off from their own sob.
Hatred grabbed Player’s chin. Its hands felt just like Griefer’s, though they quickly transformed into vines as its body once again began to change. Player was splattered with blood as Hatred became the Bubonic Plant. Player kicked it back and scrambled back until they hit something.
A hand was placed on their shoulder. They turned around to see another grotesque imitation. This time of Kyoko. Every orifice on its face was bleeding. It smiled with the same sharp red teeth.
It pounced at Player, they jumped to the side. They were both laughing like maniacs.
Player clawed at their ears, “STOP!” They sobbed.
It all went silent.
Player could only hear their own hyperventilating. They gained enough courage to look up.
They were surrounded by pirates. All with varying disturbing injuries. Some with their skulls showing, missing limbs, some were just rotting corpses.
In front of them was deformed versions of Captain Trotter and Calypso. Captain Trotter looked freshly dug out of the lava that killed him. Calypso looked at Player like it wanted to rip their head off.
Player couldn’t breathe, they were shaking like a leaf. “P-please…” was all they managed to struggle out.
The copy of Calypso collapsed, in an instant, it was Cassie. Beaten and bruised. Player had to stop themselves from reaching out. It wasn’t her.
Cassie was crying, wailing as she dragged herself towards Player. All they could do was stare like a deer in headlights.
All of the imitators melted into the floor. Standing in front of them, once again, was Hatred. It was now dressed up as a crude version of Player.
“Why are you doing this?!” Player tried to sound demanding. It didn’t really work.
“Y O U W I L L B E M I N E” Hatred smiled. It stalked forward, slowly towards Player. They tried to move, but the red veins that littered the floor like vines wrapped around their wrists. “S T O P F I G H T I N G I T”
They pulled against the restraints desperately. Hatred’s snails pace quickly hastened until it bounded towards Player. Its claws were a hair away from Player.
Player woke up screaming.
They kicked the blankets off and scurried to a corner of the room. Bracing themselves against the drywall. They were covered in cold sweat. They slid down to the ground, making sure they could still see every inch of the hotel room. As if that would soothe their paranoia at all.
They weren’t sure for how long they sat there. They glanced at the standing mirror the room. That was a mistake. They could’ve sworn they saw Hatred in the mirror for a second. They were also reminded of the red horns sticking out of their head, once again thanks to Hatred.
Player’s hand came up to touch their horns. They felt weird. Numb but sensitive at the same time.
“I L L A L W A Y S B E T H E R E” Hatred’s voice rang in their ears.
Player was hyperventilating even more now. They gripped their horn firmly with both. They wanted Hatred out of their head. Player squeezed their eyes shut and pulled.
It hurt. A lot. Like they were getting a tooth pulled with no numbing. They held their breath until they heard the horn snap off. They bit their tongue to stop themselves from screaming. The horn clattered to the ground. Blood dripped down their face from the fresh hole in their head. They glanced at the mirror.
Player looked awful. They covered in their own sweat and tears, and now blood from their forehead.
Player grabbed the other horn on autopilot. Anything to get Hatred out. Anything.
The horn broke into pieces when it landed on the ground. Blood staining the floor, Player didn’t know horns bled this much.
They felt dizzy. They struggled to stand, only to immediately be brought back down to their knees by a wave of nausea. The holes where their horns used to be were pouring blood like faucets.
That can’t be good.
They dragged themselves towards their bag. They reached for their call cards. They grabbed one at random and prayed it wasn’t Red and Blue.
They heard the footsteps of someone landing after being summoned.
“PL4Y3R—?” Griefer looked around at the room that looked like a murder scene. He looked down to see Player at his feet, “H0LY SH1T DUD3!”
Player sighed with relief before everything went black.
—
Player stirred slightly, the bed they were laying in was soft. They immediately recognized it as Griefer’s bed. They struggled to sit up, a hand on their shoulder stopped them. Their vision was blurry, but the hand on their shoulder looked like Hatred’s claw. They jumped back. Was this another nightmare? They would’ve fallen off the bed if that same claw didn’t grab them by their shirt before they could slam their head into the floor.
Player thrashed against the claw and kicked at whoever it was. They couldn’t tell if the person was growling, or if that was themself.
The hand went from their shirt to their shoulder. Their other hand joining to shake Player.
“SN4P 0UT 0F 1T!”
Player’s vision cleared, they had just been seeing things… again…
It was Griefer. He looked at them like they were a wild animal.
“H3Y, BR34TH3” Griefer said slowly. Player hadn’t even realized they had been hyperventilating.
Player looked down. They were in some of Griefer’s clothes, probably because their old ones were covered in blood.
Speaking of which, their hand went up to where their horns would be. The stumps were bandaged up. Their fingers ghosted the bandages and they winced.
Griefer opened his mouth to say something, but what could he say? What the hell happened to make them tear off their own horns..? They still looked shaken up, they had that 1000 yard stare. He probably shouldn’t ask them. Not until they were ready.
Griefer coaxed them forward and into a gentle hug. They accepted it, but they didn’t melt into it like they normally would. Griefer could feel the paranoia rolling off them in waves. Griefer just rubbed their back. Thankfully they didn’t hurt their wings or the red demon tail. The tail wrapped around his arm as he traced mindless patterns on their back.
Griefer never really asked where they got the horns and tail from. He could’ve sworn they didn’t have them when they came for the Venomshank. But, he was a plant monster for a month or two so his memory is a little hazy. He remembers how Player would be protective of their hat, they never took it off until the horns became too long to hide anymore. They still hid the tail under their pants most of the time. Griefer had no idea they were so ashamed of these red little appendages that they would go so far as to rip them out. Griefer thought they were cute.
Griefer was pulled out of his thoughts by a small hiccup from Player. Followed by a quiet sniffle, they were crying. Griefer was a little relieved. That hollow look on their face was starting to freak him out.
Griefer smoothed over their hair, careful to stay away from the healing stumps. “1TS 0K4Y… Y0UR3 0K4Y…”
Player let out a quiet sob. They said something that was unintelligible through their tears. Griefer shushed them quietly, they didn’t need to explain themselves.
Player eventually stopped crying. They pulled back to look at Griefer. Player studied him, just to double check he was real.
Griefer let them, whatever they needed to feel safe. They could take a magnifying glass to his every leaf if they needed.
“D0 Y0U N33D 4NYTH1NG?”
Player took a second, their brain was a little slow from blood loss. “M’ hungry…” they mumbled.
Griefer nodded, “1 C0ULD G3T Y0U S0M3TH1NG S1MPL3”
He stood up, Player grabbed his hand. Their grip almost hurt. “Can… can I come…?”
Griefer could see the primal fear in their eyes. They didn’t want to be alone. Then again they probably shouldn’t be alone, lest they start trying to hurt themself again.
“0F C0URS3” Griefer tried to sound casual. The last thing Player would want was to be treated like glass. Player stood up slowly. They didn’t let go of his hand.
The walk to the kitchen was slow. Player was weak. Thankfully the kitchen was just across the hall from Griefer’s room. He pulled out a chair for them to sit down. Player looked around the room like it was foreign to them, they’d been to Griefer’s house a million times.
Player had always been a little… odd. Griefer just chalked it up to them being from the future. But, something about them was… broken. Griefer desperately wanted to know what happened. Surely he could help in some way?
Griefer made them a simple sandwich. Something easy on their stomach. Griefer placed it in front of them. They looked over at him. They held eye contact, that was new.
Player looked away, “thanks…” their voice was nothing but a whisper. Griefer just nodded with a smile.
Player ate quickly. They must’ve been starving. Griefer didn’t watch them eat. They didn’t like people staring most of the time.
When Player finished, Griefer put the plate in the sink. He’d do the dishes later. Player relaxed slightly when they were back in Griefer’s room. They both sat on the edge of the bed. Griefer opened his mouth to speak like three different times, but came up with nothing. Should he comfort them? What could he possibly say that would comfort their paranoia? Should he ask them what happened? When would they be ready for that conversation? Would they ever?
“I’m sorry” Player said quietly.
Griefer blinked. He didn’t look at them. They both kept their eyes on the floor. “F0R- UH- F0R WH4T?” He cringed at his own voice crack.
“For scaring you” They said quieter. Griefer didn’t respond. He could tell they were trying to piece their thoughts together. He waited patiently. “I… Do you remember the Ghostwalker?” They asked.
“TH3 SW0RD TH4T LIK3… L0B0T0M1Z3D Y0U?”
They let out a shaky laugh. Griefer would’ve given himself a high-five. “Yeah, that one” they said, “so… the way I had to… get out of the sword was by— this sounds so stupid— basically murdering physical manifestations of my emotions” Player glanced at Griefer. Gauging his reaction.
Griefer took a deep breath and nodded slowly, “R1GHT, Y34H… 0K4Y, 1V3 H34RD W0RS3?”
Player smiled slightly, “so uh, that’s how I got my horns and tail…”
Griefer’s expression softened, “1S TH4T WHY Y0U H1D TH3M 4T F1RST?”
Player nodded, “I still have dreams… about that place…”
“4ND Y0U T0R3 Y0UR H0RNS 0UT T0…?” Griefer prompted.
Player fidgeted with their hands, “I wasn’t really thinking straight… I just… didn’t want to be reminded of Hatred every time I looked in the mirror”
“H4TR3D?”
Player nodded, “it’s the reason I have these horns and tail. It wants to take over my body. I don’t know how it was able to give me them… but that doesn’t really matter since they’re here now” they shrugged.
“1TS TRY1NG T0 W34R Y0U D0WN” Griefer guessed. Player nodded. “M4K3 Y0U W1LL1NGLY H4ND 0V3R C0NTR0L”
Player nodded again. Their hands found his beside him.
“D0 Y0U TH1NK TH3YLL GR0W B4CK?”
“Probably”
Griefer watched as they yawned. He could see the dread in their eyes. They didn’t want to have another nightmare. “C0M3 0N, 1LL W4K3 Y0U UP 1F Y0U H4V3 4 N1GHTM4R3”
Player laid down slowly, “promise..?”
Griefer laid next to them, “I’d be more than happy to slap the shit out of you to wake you up” he grinned.
Player cracked a weak smile. They held his hand tightly as they closed their eyes. Griefer ran his hand through their hair. The iron tight grip they had slowly loosened as they fell asleep.
—
Griefer dozed off a couple of times, but he quickly woke himself back up to watch Player. Their sleep was much more important than his.
Griefer was staring at the ceiling, trying to entertain himself with his brain when Player shifted. Their entire body tensed. Their hands curled around his clothes tight enough to probably tear the fabric.
Griefer sat up quickly, he grabbed their shoulder’s and shook them. “PL4Y3R!” He contemplated actually slapping them like he had joked early.
Thankfully it didn’t have to come to that because their eyes shot open. They instinctively tired to show Griefer off them, but he held on tight. He didn’t want them hurting themselves on accident.
Player eventually calmed down enough to stop thrashing against Griefer. They took a shaky breath, “…t-thanks…”
Griefer looked down at them with a smile, it faltered slightly as he tilted his head. “Y0UR3 BL33D1NG?”
Player touched their face, their fingers were stained with blood. Griefer looked at the wounds. Had they cut themselves while thrashing against him? He didn’t have anything sharp on him. Neither were his nails long enough to scratch them. Player themself didn’t even have long nails.
Player’s memory of the dream was a little hazy. Their blood ran cold as they realized Hatred had grabbed them in the dream. They remembered the pain of its claws sinking into their cheeks.
Griefer could feel Player beginning to hyperventilate, “H3Y- PL4Y3R!” He tried to get their attention.
Player looked at Griefer with wide eye, “it—“ was all they could muster.
They weren’t dreaming of Hatred. It was real.
“PL4Y3R?” Griefer asked desperately.
“Hatred… it…” was all Player had to say for it to click for Griefer.
His eyes went wide. It can hurt them in a dream?!
“WH4T 1N TH3 FR3DDY KRU3G3R 1S G0ING 0N W1TH Y0U..?” Griefer mumbled to himself as he grabbed the first aid kit he kept nearby.
“You know Freddy Krueger?” Player asked.
“1TS 2010, N0T 1970. TH0S3 M0V13S C4M3 0UT 1N TH3 80S 4ND 90S”
Player winced as Griefer disinfected the scratches on their face. They kept their eyes on Griefer. If their eyes wander right now they’d probably just hallucinate Hatred. And that can quickly spiral to auditory hallucinations. Which is the last thing they need right now.
Griefer finished patching them up and leaned back. “N0RM4LLY 1 W0ULD S4Y Y0U SH0ULD G0 B4CK T0 B3D… BUT… SH1T 1F 1 W4S Y0U 1D N3V3R SL33P 4G41N”
Player smiled slightly, “I’ll figure something out…”
Griefer frowned, “4NYTH1NG 1 C4N D0 T0 H3LP?”
Player shook their head, “you should go to bed, you look exhausted”
Griefer felt a little hesitant, “Y0U SUR3?”
Player nodded. Griefer recognized that look in their eyes. One of pure determination.
Griefer laid down, “4LR1GHT, 1 TRUST Y0U 4R3NT G0NN4 D0 4NYTH1NG DUMB?”
Player shrugged. Griefer sighed with exasperation. Despite his worry, he fell asleep quickly.
Player stayed sitting on the bed. Every time they’d be in that dream, all they had was what they went to bed with. Player got out of bed and walked over to their stuff. They grabbed their sword, the familiar weight was comforting.
They glanced back over at Griefer. It felt rude to sleep in his bed with a sword, not to mention the fact that they’d probably wake up covered in injuries again. They sat against the wall and closed their eyes. Keeping a tight grip on their sword.
When they’d opened their eyes, they were in the same pitch black void. The same bleeding heart in front of them. And their sword firmly in their hand.
Player couldn’t help but smile.