•𝙉𝙤𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙪𝙣• [𝘾𝙝𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧]

Chapter 36

Happy Valentine's day <3

~

You grimaced at the feeling of your own sweat, so heavy and so thick, coating the skin of your forehead and neck, adding onto the dreading feel of moisture and humidity that surrounded you. You growled in discomfort, despising the scent of smoke that filled up your lungs. It didn't seem to leave with each hard exhale, it's unforgettably bitter taste resting on your tongue, while your eyes continued to water.

The doll hadn't stopped smoking, not a care left in his mind that it was well over an hour since he had picked up his first cigarette, enjoying every bit of this experience at the expense of you.

It was still early in the morn, and the throbbing in your head had only worsened with it's return, compared to how it initially felt the moment you had regained consciousnese just an hour prior. It left and came at random, it's short breaks filling you with bliss, yet dread, as you waited for it's return. Your nausea was still present too, feeling sick to your stomach with every inhale you took.

“Chucky?" You turned to him, voice slurring slightly, which confused you just as much as it did him. It was a sudden wave of exhaustion that crashed onto you, a feeling of tiredness that made your eyelids grow heavy, feeling lightheaded and weary, knowing that the overwhelming exposure to the doll's cigarette smoke definitely had something to do with it. That and the fact that your body still needed a desperate amount of rest, finally processing all the mental damage dealt, your mind not being the only thing strained and tired due to this.

A low hum erupted from the doll beside you, letting you know that he heard you without putting in much effort to form a proper verbal response.

“Could you put that out?" You asked, pointing towards the cigarette held between his two plastic fingers, cringing into yourself slightly as you noticed a change in his expression, his eyes slowly leaving you as they trailed over to his newly lit stick, before they returned to meet yours once again.

The scars on his face stretched and moved as he squited his eyes and began to scowl, the darkness of your surroundings adding to the eerie ambience that he only caused to grow, casting shadows upon his profile, and enhancing his most striking features while the rest of his face remained in tenebrosity, his demeanor seeming more ghastly than usual due to this, though all he really did was give you a glare. His eyes narrowed and his gaze was strong, staring daggers at you as though you had intentionally told him something for the sake of offending him.

“what?" He questioned, and you knew he had already heard you the first time. You knew he wanted you to stay silent, asking you to repeat yourself only because he knew that you probably wouldn't.

“Your cigarette... Could you put it out?" You rephrased, only for his eyes to narrow even more, not a glint of softness present within them.

“Why the fuck should I? " He spat, his scowl now being replaced with a cut-throat snarl as you let out a shattered sigh, your headache crawling back and taking you by surprise as you lifted up an arm to rub your sore scalp. You would've gotten up to leave him alone, to find another room that you could've relaxed in given the chance that you felt okay, but you couldn't even bare the thought of standing up as off right now, knowing that if you did, it would most likely result in you dropping unconscious.

“its getting hard to breathe and I think I might pass out again..." You told, hating yourself for letting your voice come out so strained and weak, so pathetic sounding to your own ears that you could only imagine what the doll must've been thinking.

“Deal with it..." He muttered through gritted teeth, voice demanding and stern.

“Chucky, please... " You watched as the never ending strand of smoke continued to leak upwards, ascending from the rolled paper that folded into itself as it burnt, leaving behind brittle ash that would soon be broken off following a few light taps, scattering onto the cushions of the sofa, some falling and landing between small crevices held in the aged floor, repeating a process that was done a hundred times before.