Title: Lessthanthree
Fandom: Which
Rating: T
Length: 677 words
Content notes: Gore
Author notes: Which, for the record, is an Indie horror game made by Mike Inel. There's a free, legal download available here, and a Let's Play available here. It only takes about fifteen minutes to beat and I highly recommend it!
Summary: She's been helpless for far too long, wandering blindly and scratching at walls.



The bastards had strung her heart up on a clothesline.

She’d always been able to feel it beating, sending horrid, painful shudders through the empty hole in her chest every time it did, but before now she’d never been able to find it. She’d scratched at the doors of The House, but the important ones, the ones she needed to stop the pain she’d lived with for so long, had always been closed to her.

She’d needed the girl, the one who was standing behind her now, peering into the hallway where the heart hung with wide, frightened eyes.

She was an interesting girl, but for now she ignored her and looked toward her heart. She couldn’t really see, technically, but there were other ways of getting around and she’d had enough time to figure them out.

This new corridor was unfamiliar, uncharted territory. She kept one hand pressed against the wall as she went, just in case the floor decided to drop out from under her feet or something. (It would be just like them.) Finally, though, she stood in front of it. Her heart.

She yanked it off the string, holding the rippling, squirming thing in her hands as she considered what to do. Could she just… shove it back in? It didn’t seem like a medically sound decision, at least if what she remembered from the outside world was accurate. But then again, she was pretty sure women without hearts or heads weren’t exactly an accepted phenomenon in the medical world either.
Well, what the hell, right?

She grasped the heart a little tighter, braced her nerves, and shoved.

Ithurtithurtithurt oh oh fuck it hurt, but she kept pushing, kept forcing the thing inside her because she could feel something changing, could feel nerves reconnecting and rearranged, and—and she could feel.

Oh.

This was emotion, bright and sparking and shooting down every nerve in her body, lighting her up with fear and anger and pain and rage. She welcomed the sensations, breathed them all in, drank them like water. It had been far, far too long since she had been able to feel.

A sound from behind her caught her attention, and she turned back to face the girl. The girl had pulled out the wrench she’d taken from one of The House’s cabinets, and she was nervously holding it in front of her like a weapon.

She tried to laugh at the idea that something like that would be able to hurt her (and oh! Amusement was beautiful and light and perfect and how had she done without for so long?) but the sound came out as a breathy wheeze that only made the girl flinch backwards.

Poor thing, she thought, looking at her. She was probably young, about the same age as the headless woman appeared to be, but there were already bags under her eyes and a quiet, tight desperation in her face. She’d have to make sure the girl came with her when she left—who knew what they would do to her if she stayed, if they found out that girl had let one of their favorite playtoys go free.

They should leave now. She had the keys, she had the girl, and screw her head. She could go without speaking or eating or seeing if it meant she could get out of here sooner. Screw the head, and let them find it when they went to see why she was no longer here.

She walked back out the hall and through the girl, marveling at the way the heart beat inside of her when she moved. A sudden rush of affection jolted through her, powerful and new, and if she could have smiled she would. Yes, she’d save the girl, and who knew what would happen when they found the outside? Maybe a pretty, soft, whole-bodied thing like her wouldn’t want to be friends with a jaded, mute, headless woman whose heart could be seen from outside her body, but then again…

Well, maybe she would.