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Rated: 18+ · Chapter · Fanfiction · #2332109
sally struggles to cope with his reality.
tw; language, physical pain, mental health issues
sally face

for those of you who know sally face i tried my best, ive only watched gameplay and i haven't actually played the game. im a fan. but if you don't know it, this just came to my mind. enjoy !!



dark, mysterious eyes burned holes through the solid wooden door. it was absent and empty, a reminder of his existence. his selfishness.

he should have took the fucking hint. at least one. he could have saved him.

he couldn't draw away from the door no matter how hard his brain, eyes, and legs tried to make a connection.

he was dead.

his body forced pants out of him. not after-a-jog pants, but anxiety-induced, mental breakdown ones. he needed to get away or he would fucking lose it.

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

𝘰𝘩.

his eyes were on his worn-out sneakers now, the thick white arch a gray-ish hue. his laces were outstretched and also supported gray colors. the mindless pupils trembled before them. he needed to get away or the world would end.

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘓𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰?

don't say it. don't say that fucking name.

he finally left, small frame darting across the lonesome hall with a desperation to its steps. he nearly stumbled--which thankfully didn't happen--or he could never forgive himself. he kept running until he came to another door.

it was open. upon viewing it, one would see a teenager's dream. streams of posters against the overused wallpaper; vinyls and knickknacks decorated the top of his dresser. A singular electric guitar had its own corner of the room on a dull gray rack. a bean bag sulked inches from a corner. besides this, the room came with a bed and closet. they danced together in reds, blacks, and varying hues.

he huffed, chest inflating and deflating as he tried to ground himself. his eyes were still shaky, and his body seemed to pick up the movement. he hunched over, ripping the prosthesis from his face.

body crumpled, large veins, pale body.

whatever he was holding in was coming out, because before he knew it he was vomiting bile onto the putrid carpet.

the sounds were loud, ones unbearable for anyone near, but it was a shitty apartment complex with strange vessels, and no one would care if an unusual teenager was dying. he couldn't help it though, and they were brain dead so they could fuck off.

it started as a puddle and turned into a pool. his eyes started to water, a soft cry for help. the vomiting slowed after what seemed like a few years and he was dry heaving.

his shaky pupils started at his vomit as he tried to recover. after his spell of empty vomit, he stood up and swallowed absently, wiping his mouth with his hoodie sleeve,

𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨...

a small ovular object chimed in his backpocket. he took it out, revealing a light gray cell phone. he flipped it open and looked at the screen, his eyes straining to read the light.

𝘈𝘴𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘺

his eyes widened. his fingers fumbled against the keypad before pressing the green call button. he pressed the cold material to his ear.

"h-hello?"

"Sally? oh thank goodness," a frantic voice called on the other end. it was soft despite its alarm.

the male swallowed hard, feeling nausea cease and guilt replace it.

it'd been months since they saw each other. Ashley wasn't one to pry unless she was needed, but she'd still been worried regardless.

Sally felt awful for not talking to her-selfish that he only needed her when he was crumbling. he let something out, something almost incoherent since his chest felt tight.

"i'm...i'm okay. I just really need you," he said, and before he knew it tears were running down his face. he was breathing unsteadily.

"okay, I'm coming. stay on the line with me. don't hang up, okay?"

"okay."
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