PewdieCry: Slipping Sanity part 2

Summary: Pewdiepie and Cry are stuck in the world of 'Amnesia: The Dark Descent'. Pewdiepie wonders around while utterly lost and a lost Cry utters while lost and wandering.
Warnings: Quite a bit of swearing, mentions and descriptions of death and pain, and the usual insanity. No slash, just a good friendship being put to its limits.
 
~*~

Who knew how time flowed in this torturous place? The only way the blond gamer could tell that even seconds slipped by was the constant flicker of the lantern's flames as the oil slowly burnt away.
It was only as the light began to fade and the walls started to sway that Pewdiepie tipped in a fourth oil pot, biting his lip as he realised that was the final reserve.

The Swede finally came to a stop, his frustration and worry getting the better of him. He leant his back against the wall and slid down it, the lantern placed carefully beside him so that he could place his head in his hands.

One hand felt the broken Cry mask he wore, a single finger tracing the sharp and jagged edge that ran along its shattered side. Was it all pointless? For all he knew, his best and only friend, in this damned place, was already dead and here he was unable to even find his broken body.

It had occurred to him, somewhere between the second and third oil pot, that if Cry was in any fine shape then Pewds would not be wandering aimlessly in hopes of finding a trace of him. That he would have been at the end of that trail of blood that he had so painstakingly followed. That there would be something, anything, one damn speck of evidence that his friend even existed. But there was nothing. So now, and who could blame him, Pewds could only assume the worst had happened, or if he didn't hurry up, would soon occur. What else could you think when you started to doubt he had been there at all?

If the American was here, the timid gamer would not be doubting his own mind. Or jumping at every little detail that surprised him. They would have even made it out of this hellish place by now,  laughing about each others reactions and maybe even planning their next co-op.

But sadly this was not the case. Instead, Pewdiepie found himself truly alone, huddled in the dark and clutching his own knees to prevent himself from shivering. He couldn't even find the strength to move from his blatantly defenceless position.

He felt dejected, lost, and useless. Cryaotic had always been the one with the rational ideas, steering the more impulsive of the pair with a general path in mind. At the last fork in the path, Pewds had resorted to chanting his usual Swedish rhyme and gone a random direction as he had been clueless as to which was the correct route.

He missed the American's casual giggles, the often humorous remark and his undoubted loyalty. No matter what the blond gamer said, the other went along with it even if he didn't think it was right. For a laugh or just because he didn't want to oppose his friend. He painfully missed just having someone to talk to.

"Damnit Cry!" He cursed between shallow breaths, his attempt to control his tears failing as he felt the first warm drip slide down his cheek. The blue eyed gamer furiously wiped it away with his hand, his grief transforming into anger.

"I-I don't want to play this game any more! Just let me and Cry go!" He shouted to the air. Pewdiepie pushed himself up and glared at the nearest table, kicking it over in an attempt to vent his built up stress. The wooden frame splintered beneath his shoe, and while his foot had jolted in protest of this violent action, it had helped cease the tears that built up in his eyes.

However, a cold wind whistled down the corridor, as if answering the desperate man with cold denial and punishing further him for his outburst. The gust of wind had also put out the lantern, but instead of crying out in fear, a much more serious and mocking tone now hung on the blond gamer's words as he addressed the misfortune that brought them here.

"I'm not scared any more. I'm not going to entertain you, if that's what you want. I don't need light, I can make my own way through the game. I... I will find Cry, and then we're getting the hell out of here." Pewdiepie vowed, picking up the snuffed out light source and walking on.

Of course he had been bluffing when he said he didn't need light, and already, he found the hand guiding him along the wall, was now holding him up for support, as the ground lurched and shook under his feet. As Pewds fell to the ground from dizziness, the lantern almost rolling out of his grip, he decided that it was probably smarter to use it now, even if he had prided himself for keeping it extinguished for so long.

The previous anger had dissolved now, and while he was determined to not give up in his search, fatigue now dragged at his feet and weighed upon his mind. Slowly his progress down the corridor lagged until he couldn't even keep his eyes open without focusing on them. As much as he hated it, he would have to make Cry wait. There was no use in walking till he could no longer function, and if his friend was in trouble, then what use would he be half dead himself?

Yawning, the blond gamer yanked at the next few door handles he came across until one swung open on touch. Stumbling in and pushing the door shut behind him, he grinned at the sight of familiar friend, putting down the lantern and walking over to him.

"Mr Chair! Am I glad to see you!"
"Pewds I missed you!"
"Mr Chair.. I need you to help me."
"Anything Pewdie!"

Of course both voices were from the gamer, but it made him smile and feel a little better to talk with the inanimate object then to suffer in silence for much longer. It made the experience a little less real and a lot more fun.

Picking up Mr.Chair, he placed his friend in front of the door, and made sure that it was slotted underneath the door handle. Despite it probably making little difference if a grunt tried to claw its way in, it gave a slight sense of security which he sorely missed.

Fortunately this room also seemed to be a bedroom, and while the map of this house realistically made no sense, the gamer was used to randomly generated rooms appearing in nonsensical orders. Instead he just guessed himself lucky, and after raiding the draws for supplies and finding a tinderbox, he used it on the nearest light source, stifled the lamp and flopped onto the bed.

"Good Night Mr.Chair."
"Good Night Pewds!"

Pewdiepie sighed, knowing that even for him, saying good night to a chair was on the edge of pathetic. It had become part of his personality to personify objects in games to calm himself down, but without a screen, without someone there to physically witness him doing it, it just felt, stupid. He wished they would talk to him, to really speak to him and say 'Hi pewds' but that was all it was. A wish, a dream, an impossible fantasy. He was really just talking to himself.

"That's meant to be the first sign of madness. I guess I'm going crazy. Maybe I'm already crazy. What do you think Mr Chair?"

He asked casually, giving the wooden furniture one of his famous grins, but it didn't reply. It was a chair. What was he thinking would happen?

The gamer lay flat on his back, hands tucked under his head, his eyes shut in an attempt to fool himself into sleep. Yet as much as he yearned for rest, he found himself unable to do so. The bed wasn't uncomfortable, and it wasn't that cold despite the gentle draught.

He just, couldn't. No matter what he thought about, his mind was drowning in negativity. Worry and guilt clawed at his conscience. Fear and doubt wormed its way into his thoughts. The idea of finding Cry's broken and bloody body kept resurfacing and it was all enough to make him sick.

Pewds rolled onto one side, only just remembering he still wore the disfigured cry mask, as he lay on it. He slipped it off and stared at it with an accusing gaze, as if it was the mask's fault for his inability to sleep but quickly put it next to the lantern, knowing he couldn't blame Cry right now.

No, right now he could just blame himself for everything. "Stop being a pussy Felix, go to sleep and then we can fix this stupid mess." He ordered himself, in an attempt to break his depressing stream of thoughts but also the silence that seemed to smother this room.  

Pewdiepie hated the ambience of games like Amnesia, with its daunting music and heart stopping sound effects. However he found the current silence was slowly suffocating him.

For all of this nightmare, he had fortunately been with Cry. The Swede had even woken up to his friend's voice after seemingly teleporting to this place. Throughout their adventure, Cry's voice, his laughter, even the sound of his breathes had accompanied the gamer and given him the strength to keep going.

But now there was nothing. No terrifying roars from the grunts or trembles of distant destruction, as the castle fell apart. Not a single decibel of sound apart from his own breath and heart beat.

He knew he was already asking for a lot. For sleep to come quickly. For Cry to be all right. For them to make it out safely in the end. But he couldn't help but quietly -and drowsily- pray for one more thing before his body finally gave into sleep.

I wish I wasn't so alone.

~*~

"JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Cry screamed, his bloody hands clutching at his head as he blindly stumbled in the dark. With his wild eyes screwed shut to prevent himself from seeing the twisted images of horror that seemed to surround him, he was unable to see the wall that loomed in front of him until he smashed into it.

He cried out, this time due to the pain and shock of the sudden collision than lack of sanity, and fell against it, adding only another injury to the serious amount that studded his body. Instead of getting up however, he just pressed his head against the wall, his back arched to the nightmares and shadows gaining upon him.

However the gamer began to laugh hysterically, as if he had been told the funniest joke in the world, tears inevitably streaming from his eyes again. But at the sound of his own insanity he only began to scream in terror at the idea of the monsters approaching.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! GO THE FUCK AWAY! PLEASE! JUST.. go away..please." His voice broke, the tight and scratched feeling of his throat choking out his words to mere whimpers. The American sat there, cursing, whimpering, crying for it all to stop, for hours, or maybe just minutes.

Yet as the sounds of footsteps seemed to have stopped the moment he crashed, and the wails of his own echoing screams died down, he was able to focus just a little. Yet, focus wasn't the right word as his deep blue eyes stared fixedly at the darkness, expecting at any moment for something to leap at him, to drag him back to the cell he was all too familiar with. A prison, in which he had left behind more than a shallow pool of blood.

His ragged breathing eased a little, and ignoring the pain that seemed to be ingrained into every burning fibre of his body, he pushed himself up. Even the sound of the wall creaking under his weight made the young man flinch, but after he propelled himself away from it, he stood in the middle of the corridor and waited.

Apart from the never ending sound of ringing that seemed to haunt every corner of his shadow ridden mind, there was not a single sound apart from a deep rasping breath, that made the gamer shiver, as he wondered what lurked so close to make such a loud, broken and dying gasp. Of course, he could never make the connection that it was only himself. He was far too gone for that.

Ignoring it however, like the insufferable ringing, he slowly closed his eyes, bit his already raw finger and whispered soothingly.

"It's not real.. it's just a game.. it's all a dream.. it's not real. It's not real. It's not real!" Each exclamation became louder, as if shouting it would make the words come true. It was all he had left to believe anyhow.

Now that he stood in the dark, free from his terror for a blessed moment, Cry tried to remember what he had been doing. Something in his mind clicked, and a shattered urge seemed to seep back. He had been trying to escape from the castle.  

No wait. First. There had been. Someone. Someone important. He needed to find that someone. He didn't know why, but if he found that someone, then things would be all right. Right?

It all felt so fuzzy, and he could hardly understand what his mind was trying to so desperately tell him. But it was lost, under the ringing that seemed to smother it to a faint whisper. The gamer felt so painfully frustrated, scared, lost, and in, well, pain. He punched the wall in anger, and yelped as his hand felt like it splintered from the impact.

Where was that someone?! Why weren't they here?! How important could this someone be if they weren't even there to help!

"I agree Cry, you're friend has been terrible at this little game."

The American cried out, the mirthful Voice reducing any amount of the resolve he had just held back to nothing. Instead he threw himself against the wall, pressing himself against it like a frightened animal. He had learnt from painful trial and error that this voice did not like being spoken back to. The gamer cowered, frozen like a deer, waiting for the pain to come, or for the indistinguishable sounds to end.

Yet for once, they almost seemed to make words. And the words. Made. Sense. They drowned out any sound of ringing at least. Yet the daunting, sadistic tone that now filled the air, almost made him wish the ringing had burst his eardrums.

"I wonder whether he'll even get to you before your killed by some grunt. Or by your own hands."

Cry blinked, not sure how to reply. His mouth felt dry, and a sort of light headed feeling was starting to making staying vertical more of an effort than usual.

"You've both been pretty disappointing so far. Look at you, spooked by your own shadow. It's been purely, pitiful. But most entertaining to say the least."

The gamer couldn't help but smirk at that, not of his own choice of course, as his own body and mind were both trying to tell him to remain quiet and unnoticeable. Yet, something about the word 'spooked' reminded him of his fun adventures from the past. He used to shout 'Spooky!' out loud, and charge ahead, while the others laughed as they all made fun of the horrors that tried to scare them.

Their amusement became his own, and he lay on the ground again, hysterically laughing and gasping for breath, his arms clutching at his sides as his body sorely heaved, gasping in as much air as he could between each demented shout of maniacal laughter.

The owner of the Voice remained silent, watching in almost awe of what he had done to the tortured soul before him, like a child who had pressed a button to see what would happen.

Cry finally stopped moving, the sounds of delirium fading back to the usual irregular breathing. A choked plea escaped the hollow man, the last of his sanity hanging on its words.

"Just... please... kill me."

Of course the Voice could do that. He was sure that it would be enjoyable, to say the least, to watch the American torn apart or impaled by grunts. To see him dragged below crimson stained water as an invisible force savaged him faster then his lungs could burst with murky blood. To see the Swede's face contort with horror and despair at finding his friend's grisly remains.

But what he had planned would not only last longer, and provide much more entertainment for himself, it would also inflict more agony to both of the gamers then the mercy of death could grant them.

"In all good time, friend. I'm sorry to say you'll have to hang on a little longer. I'm sure you're friend wouldn't appreciate me putting his efforts in vain."

Cry lay there, his body feeling numb and heavy. All he could do was listen to the Voice, that seemed to remain loud and clear in his mind even on the verge of passing out. Yet the tone in the words seemed to grow bored, as he added.

"That is, if he's even trying any more."

Whether the owner of the voice left or he had finally passed out, probably both, the injured and broken gamer remained on the ground, no longer harbouring enough energy to even fall into the tormenting nightmares that usually came with sleep.

As ever, there was only darkness.

To be continued~