「𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭」> [Creepypasta X Reader]
003
"Knife"
10/30/20xx
[Name] didn't know what to think of the dark. She wasn't scared nor did she like the dark. Though she did love how people's secrets tend to come out easily when darkness befalls them.
The night had that effect. The voices also were more prevalent then.
Her head was filled with thoughts, almost ignoring her surroundings. If you had told her younger self how she acted currently, young [Name] would have had an aneurysm.
The thoughts that occupied her were the easiest questions, but the hardest answers. 'Who is Tim? Who is Toby?' The suspects were probably sneezing, wondering who was thinking about them. Tim was her top priority; they'll be seeing each other more often.
But her father just died. Is this the right time?
That old man wouldn't want her to meddle in such affairs.
As much as she found his warnings that he drilled into her head annoying, she will admit that it helped her a lot.
Who killed him? "Who?" That's when her eyes stopped at a lone dark figure sitting on a bench near one of the only working lights in one of the older places of the park. Silencing herself, she racked her mind. There wasn't a person who comes here at night. Or at least from her faded memory.
It seemed as though the stranger felt her analytical gaze and turned around slowly.
Seconds turned into minutes until she saw him shift, grabbing something behind him. "Hey stranger." The figure froze. "Whatcha got there?" She stepped forward. Yes, it was a stupid decision. But if the man is a killer or some sort of creature, his eyesight is definitely better than her's that's used to bright lights. She had no choice.
"..." She couldn't see it, but the man was having a small crisis. "[Name]?" A crack showed up at his surprisingly sorrowful voice.
Huh.
Who is he? She doesn't remember who he is. "Yeah. It's me." In a confident pose, she stepped closer to see who she was talking to. Still no clue. Until she saw a faded-out sloppy smiley pin. "How has life been treating you, Helen?"
"You- you remember me..." She can't see his face now that he looked down. But she's sure he's tearing up... But... Why? She wasn't that important.
"Yeah, I really do." Ability, lying.
Truthfully, Helen wasn't important to her. As harsh as it sounds. He was just the child that stuck to her like sticky icky glue after a field trip in Ashford. She found him annoying but also found comfort in his possessive arms. Was it the lack of affection she was shown? Or because she was a narcissist... That she can't determine.
She raised her phone in his close direction. His pretty, almost unnatural-looking blue eyes shined at her direction.
"[Name]..." Helen repeated five more times, stepping closer and closer until they were three inches apart. He was a bit taller, but the heeled shoes were to be thanked. Other than that, he looked the same. Too similar. It made her ironically plain face of expectance.
"My love... My heart, my life..." Since when did the stuttering fool she grew up with go? Did he grow out of his shame?
It was disgusting.
Where was that adorable fool who didn't dare touch her until she said so? No, no, disgusting is a harsh word. Shocking? Unpleasant? Maybe she's in the wrong. He probably grew up to be a fine young man. She should be proud. But all she could feel was dread.
His eyes were possessive and so round that they looked like hearts. A disgusting look of lovesickness. But all she could do is cup his face and check.
His darker, almost unnoticeable freckles almost faded. Underneath the dim light, they both looked like a couple who just reunited. But it couldn't be farther from that. To her, he was a stranger whom she was familiar with. To him, she was a wise caring woman who nurtured him through thick and thin.
"When... When did you come back?" He nuzzled. "Just this morning." Short answers. Helen was used to her over-explaining things. So he buried his sharp chin, waiting for more.
"My father died. Have you heard? He gave me the bakery." This made him pause. Helen knew how much she admired her father. He did too.
"Truly unfortunate... May I go to the bakery sometime? It would be really pleasant for old time's sake." The thing about Helen is that he can't manage his words well. Making people dislike his so straightforward, almost dismissive tone. [Name] found it interesting. He always seemed to be aware, yet wasn't aware of his words. She sometimes gets frustrated, but she can't do anything about it.
"That would be nice." She didn't say any more. Helen appreciated the silence, and she appreciated the opposite. He honed his talents whilst she ignored it per to her consciousness telling her itwas useless. Truly two sides of the same rusty, old coin.
<Fun Fact>
MC isn't a hero.
Chapters 4 and 5 are almost done.
MC wasn't a great student when she got a scholarship at a university. Her grades weren't the best, but she maintained most of them.
MC likes to stare.
Helen lost himself at the mental hospital.
There's another place near Fleamont. Where the winds are colder and the atmosphere heavy. That's where Helen studied in high school. His father's home.
There, he also was caught and broadcasted in Ashford. Almost in Fleamont, but the previous mayor cut the news off. Fleamont was big, but not that big. Everyone knew each other.
And they would Riot if they heard the news about Helen Otis', the perpetrator of the Jasper Field HS massacre.
And his maternal family bribed the mayor.
Only few know of this.
Corruption is wildly known around Fleamont, but only a few talk of the subject.
Author is writing a one shot book of Masky. I love that man sm.
It's a male reader.
My friends think I'm gay.
This chapter is shorter than the previous two.
This is a filler chapter.
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