Chapter 8 #2
He didn’t know how long he had stayed there, forehead against his knees, dozing in and out of consciousness, before he heard a soft rustling sound.
When he looked up, he saw Derek slipping out of his chair and walking over to Lionel.
Derek raised a finger to his lips, signaling Lionel to stay quiet.
Lionel’s gaze darted over to Mads, who seemed to have fallen fully asleep—his cheek leaned against the pillow, lips slightly parted as his chest rose and fell in even breaths.
“What?” Lionel whispered when Derek sat next to him, so close that their arms were pressed fully together.
Derek leaned even further into his space until their cheeks were nearly touching, but his eyes stayed locked on Mads. “I don’t like that guy.”
Lionel’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean? He’s literally been nothing but helpful.”
“He just gives me a bad vibe,” Derek said. As if showing his point, he shivered, goosebumps standing up so prominently on his arms that even Lionel could see them. “He didn’t even seem to care that Laura, Addie, and Carlos all died.”
Lionel didn’t point out the fact that he also hadn’t reacted that much to their deaths—and hadn’t even bothered to learn all of their names until this moment.
He sighed and whispered back, “We’ve seen a lot of death in just the past few hours, Derek.
Everyone processes that type of thing differently. ”
Derek frowned and straightened his back, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. “I just don’t like him.”
“What do you propose we do?” Lionel asked. “Do you want to just throw him out and let him die? He’s blind, Derek. I’m pretty sure that’d make you the villain in the zombie movie if you leave the blind guy to die.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t a movie, and the blind guy is weird.”
Lionel ignored him, not wanting to point out the obvious paranoia that Derek had developed in the past few hours.
Lionel adjusted himself so he could lean back against the wall, tilting his head to rest there so he could close his eyes again.
Once he realized Lionel wasn’t going to talk to him anymore, Derek grumbled to himself but moved back to his seat.
Lionel must have truly dozed off for a little while because when he woke up, he sat upright in surprise, gasping when he heard a scream that was a little too close for comfort. It looked like Derek and Mads were in the same boat as they both jerked up in their seats, looking around frantically.
Lionel stumbled to his feet, his breath already uneven as he pressed his ear to the wall.
He strained to hear more, and when another scream rang out—high, sharp, and agonized—his whole body jolted.
It was close, like whoever it was could be just on the other side of the wall.
The wet shuffle of movement followed, something dragging, something heavy, and it sent a familiar pulse through him.
His heart stuttered in his chest, not just from fear.
He shut his eyes, jaw clenching as heat flushed down his spine.
A low, involuntary sound caught in his throat.
Something about the scream—the desperation in it, the rawness—lit a fuse deep in his gut.
He pressed a hand to his lower stomach, fingers curling slightly as he adjusted his sweatpants with a tight inhale, trying to will himself back under control.
His heart was pounding, too fast and too low, and he knew it wasn’t fear that was turning his blood hot.
Once the noises dissipated, Lionel turned to look at the other two, who were standing a few feet behind him, both tensed.
“It really seems like the creatures can’t come in here,” he murmured, his voice thick.
His words reassured himself as well as Derek and Mads, who visibly relaxed.
He rubbed the back of his neck, head spinning from how quickly he came to consciousness and how fast all the blood in his body raced to his dick.
Lionel gnawed on his lip as he watched Mads and Derek both lie back down, blinking groggily. He glanced at the door and stood up, abruptly enough to have Derek startle slightly. “What is it?”
“I gotta piss,” Lionel said, walking over to pull the cabinet from in front of the door.
“What?” Derek hissed, standing up and grabbing him before he could open it. “You’re going out there?”
Lionel looked around pointedly. “Where do you want me to pee in here?”
“Can’t you just hold it?”
“For how long?” Lionel asked. “What if we’re in here for days?”
“I’m sure he’d be okay just going over to the bathroom,” Mads spoke up. “It’s only a few steps from here - we’ll leave the door propped open so he can race back if anything happens.”
“Hell no,” Derek shook his head. “I’m closing it.”
“Whatever,” Lionel cut in before Mads could respond. “I’ll be quick, don’t worry about it.”
Lionel didn’t wait for either of them to answer before pulling the door open just a crack and slipping through it.
The bathroom door shut behind him with a soft click, and Lionel leaned against it, head tilted back against the wood as he exhaled hard.
The mirror across from him was cracked—veins of broken glass spider-webbed across his reflection, cutting his image into jagged fragments.
He didn’t look like the hero of any horror movie; he barely even looked human with his pupils blown wide, lips parted like he’d been holding his breath for too long.
He laughed under his breath—one soft, broken sound—and pressed the heel of his hand against his eye. “This is insane,” he whispered to no one.
Outside, somewhere in the bowels of the building, something screamed again. A raw, hoarse sound that echoed down the pipes and into his skull like it had been made just for him. Lionel shivered at the helpless sound of suffering.
His stomach twisted in guilt. There was blood on the floor out there—real people were dying, screaming, begging—and he was in here hiding in a half-lit bathroom, hard as hell, breath catching every time his ears caught the sound of someone being dragged across the tile.
It wasn’t like this was new, either. He’d always been wired wrong; he'd always had to work a little harder to feel things the way other people did. Horror movies were one thing, but this wasn’t a movie. This was real.
And still his hand hovered over the waistband of his sweatpants as he stared at his warped reflection in the mirror, shame coiled tight in his chest. “Fucking freak,” he muttered to himself, but he didn’t stop.
His fist moved quickly, almost too fast, to the point that his skin felt rubbed raw, until he came into the toilet. He groaned as he hung his head, clarity making him grimace when he looked down at his hand.
After properly washing his hands with water that he was a bit surprised was still flowing through the pipes, he shoved his too-long hair back from his face and shook himself out. He exhaled long and slow before opening the bathroom door and ducking back to their hideout.
He smiled tightly when Derek and Mads both glanced up when he entered.
His heart was still racing in his chest, and he immediately dropped his gaze, worried the two of them would somehow be able to tell what he had done.
He cleared his throat as he went and opened one of the bags they had brought down. “We should eat something.”
There was plenty to pick from, so Lionel grabbed one of the bags of trail mix and took his seat again.
He watched as Derek pulled an apple from one of the bags and Mads took out three water bottles.
Lionel nodded in ‘thanks’ as he was handed one and watched as Mads opened his own and drained nearly the entire thing in one go.
“You should eat something too,” Lionel said when Mads sat back down.
He shook his head, “I’m not really hungry at the moment.” Mads glanced over at the bags, seeming to consider his words before muttering, “We also probably shouldn’t eat needlessly. Who knows how long we’ll be in here?”
“What, do you really think we need supplies to last for days?” Derek asked.
“Maybe,” Mads said, voice trailing off.
“I can’t be stuck in here forever,” Derek groaned, covering his face. “Where are the cops? Where’s the military? Why is nothing happening?”
“No one outside seems to notice anything is wrong,” Lionel reminded him.
“And our cell phones don’t work at all in here.
It’s like we’re in our own little world.
” Lionel hadn’t fully formed the thought before the words slipped out, but once they did, he realized that was exactly what this felt like.
It was as if the building existed inside its own bubble—untouched by the outside world, even as everything inside was twisted beyond recognition.
The horrors here couldn’t reach beyond its walls, and nothing from outside could pierce through to help them.
Before Lionel could consider that thought any longer, Derek continued talking. “I have to get out of here. I was doing shit, man! I had a few huge opportunities lined up!”
“Yeah? With your music?” Lionel asked.
“Yeah. I had a few record companies interested in working with me as a producer. Do you know how huge that is? The music scene is so oversaturated nowadays, especially when everyone thinks they can be a producer because of Soundcloud,” Derek said, waving a hand around as though that would explain his point.
“I was supposed to go interview with one of them tomorrow.”
Lionel didn’t know whether he should give him false hope and say something about how ‘everything would be okay’ and ‘they would definitely get out,’ or if he should be more realistic. Luckily, Mads spoke up first. “What about you, Lionel?”
Lionel’s eyebrows furrowed, “What about me?”
Mads shrugged as he leaned back into the couch. “What part of your life was interrupted by all this?”