The many winding paths of Grasscove, U.S.A. : Part Eight

*This story is under my folder “Grasscove, U.S.A.”. Gacha Club character designs are under this forum: https://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic/117842-my-character-designs-lt-33-3?start=195. Enjoy!*

The light blinks into nothingness and we’re all falling. I hope we can at least land some-

That hurts. Emily passes right through me, but I feel the hardwood floor against my back. I hope I don’t have a scar from the landing.

I sit up. I’m in a room with mechanical gears spinning and turning above me. Emily is floating a little too close to them and I hear Sybil yelling at her to come down.

Sybil herself is a pile of bones trying to put herself back together. She slips up sometimes and does a clattery, skeleton-sigh of frustration, so I get up and help her. My back pain is nowhere near her body breaking apart.

“Katherine, please. I’m right here. Don’t jump or you’ll do it again.”

That voice. A boy, calling out to someone. Pleading. It’s Emery. 

I fasten on Sybil’s head.

“You’ll fade in seconds, but you’ll be waiting when I jump.”

A girl’s voice I don’t recognize, echoing and a little frightened. This is Katherine Saddiler, the girl whose dead body hung from the clock hand a hundred or so years ago.

I don’t know how, but we’re inside the clock tower.

I start walking. Emily is floating next to Sybil now, who is searching for a way out. I want to get out too, but where is Emery? I can’t see him behind the walls.

“That’s not true! We’re dead. It’s been that way for hundreds of years. You don’t need to keep doing that. Won’t…can’t you look at me?!”

I don’t see or hear Lilliana and Ophelia. Well, Ophelia doesn’t really talk and Lilliana never seems to trust me with the full extent of her vampirism. 

The gears are rolling above and around us. Rust has dulled the shine on the black paint, making it look like dirt. The clock hand ticks, louder than the sounds Sybil and Emily made when they were trying to escape their statues.

They never listen. They always think they know better, but they haven’t been on this planet very long.

It’s a hollow voice that scratches at the inside of my brain. It’s too raspy to sound human 

“Katherine!” Emery screams, choking on a sob.

They feed off dreams that will never be. They use those hearts to love when it will break. All they’ll ever do is complain.

I can see Emery now. He’s on his knees, his head down as he watches Katherine fall. But she’ll come back. She’s a ghost.

They can whine but they’ll learn to deal with it. We all have dealt a bad hand.

She’ll come back but she won’t be the same. She hasn’t been the same since her death. Lilliana leaves me when the horrors start to come.

I already see Katherine start to materialize right next to him, her long black hair almost reaching her feet. I’ll come out and-

Something crunches underneath me. It’s not Sybil, she’s gripping my arm. 

One look down and I see that it’s the doll I gave Lilliana. The middle of her stomach is cracked open. Peach-colored…no…it’s…

I pick it up. The slimy mucus drips onto my skin. My eyes are watering, but it’s it as bad as how it smells. Like gasoline mixed in with trash juice. I’m scared that I’m going to throw up if I open my mouth and I haven’t even eaten anything.

Dripping from the middle of her stomach are peach-colored organs. Yes, human organs, mixed in together.

I don’t want to hold her but I don’t want to leave her. I’ll untangle them all, starting with…what do I untangle first? I can’t find where it starts or ends.

But I can do it. I can-

I can’t move. Something-someone-is holding me in place and it’s not Sybil. I feel flesh. I feel teeth. I scream.

She doesn’t let go.