Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25913561-20141223131636/@comment-25913561-20141224023040

BELOW IS A REVISED (and hopefully complete) VERSION OF MY CREEPYPASTA.

Living with Him.

It was winter, that’s all I remember. Snow blew in from the mountains, the wind howled and the storm raged. I liked the storm. It meant that I couldn’t hear them screaming, smashing things, slamming doors. Mother would cry out in pain and Father would just hit her again. Or sometimes Mother would throw something at Father and he would yell at her. But at least tonight I couldn’t hear them. Sometimes, when it became too much, I would just bring my knees up to my chest, hugging them, cowering in the corner. Hoping that maybe for once He wouldn’t come in. But He always did. He always came to see me. At first He was just a presence, like a pressure I suppose, and it wasn’t a happy presence but I managed to ignore it. I attended school, did my chores, and basically lived my life as best I could while pretending he wasn’t there. I soon became very aware of Him. Following me, staring at me, whispering to me. But at least at this stage I couldn’t hear His words clearly. I dug my nails into my temples and tried my best to ignore His stares. _________________________________________________________________________________ It’s strange really, none of my classmates noticed Him, and the nurse laughed at me when I told her of Him. The doctor asked if I had hit my head, and suggested I get some rest. I bit my lip for the hundredth time that week, supressing the desire to scream, and I nodded at the doctor and left. This went on for a period of two weeks before I noticed the real change. I began to feel strange, like I needed to do certain things. It was an overwhelming urge that I couldn’t resist and I just knew something terrible would happen if I didn’t obey. It began with locking and unlocking the door 17 times when I entered my room. Then I had to remove and replace all of my clothes 11 times, but I must never reveal my breasts. If I ever let Him see my breasts I must comb my hair 22 times and then brush my teeth until my gums bled. I must chew my food 10 times on each side of my mouth, and I may only drink water at noon. The school nurse told me to see a doctor, and he told me to take some pills which he handed me, explaining they were for calming the nerves and helping me sleep. The pills had no effect. My urges continued and I could not resist them. ________________________________________________________________________________ This went on for a full month before it worsened further. I began to see monsters. They were in the shadows, climbing out of every crevice, with glowing yellow eyes and large fangs dripping blood. I would scream and run, but the teachers and students always insisted nothing was there. But He always laughed when the monsters came, pointing at me and rocking back and forth with soundless mirth. They made me see a strange man. He asked me questions about my life at home and school. I knew what to say though, Father had taught me that these men were aliens and I must always smile and say that I am happy and everything is fine. Without Father the aliens would have taken me away long ago. Eventually I began to loathe my classmates. My friends were annoying pests, and I found myself in fights every day. I beat up that little boy who transferred here. I hit him and kept hitting him, I savoured the smell of his blood and found a grin creeping across my face as my fist collided with his filthy mouth. He was reflected in the boy’s eyes, His teeth gleaming in a savage grin. The boy was sent to the hospital and the teachers were appalled, they didn’t seem to believe that I hadn’t done it, but surely I would remember beating up the shy transfer student. I never started fights, how can they try to blame me for this? I defiantly stared up at the principal as he spoke with the teachers who claimed to have witnessed it, I suddenly felt a rush of anger and I shouted that it wasn’t me, the principal suggested I take a good look at myself… I glanced down at my clothes and hands… I was rather messy, covered in dirt and… Blood. But whose blood is that? When did it get there? I looked up at the principal, confused and dazed. I don’t remember what he said to me, I just nodded. The teachers sent me home with a suspension notice. Mother and Father didn’t even read the note, they were preoccupied with screaming hateful things at each other. I took myself to my room, locking and unlocking the door 17 times, before I fell onto my bed. I think I slept for the whole day. _____________________________________________________________________________ Then a week into my two week suspension I experienced a dramatic and terrifying change. I noticed when there was another storm raging, that I had a piece of glass in my hand, as I raised it to look closer my wrist hurt, and I saw the deep slashes… I screamed, rushing to the washroom and bathing my wounds. I was deeply troubled by the realisation that I had done something so horrific to my own body... And yet… I liked it. A grin crept across my face as I admired the shredded flesh and the blood as it spread its crimson tendrils across my skin. I poked the insides of the gash and felt a wonderful throb of pain. I giggled with delight. I bandaged my wrists and then removed the bandages 39 times, making sure to twist the bandage around my wrist from top to bottom clockwise. I jumped when I looked up and saw Him in the mirror. He grinned, showing pointed yellow teeth and blazing eyes of white. Empty, soulless, menacing. He continued to grin at me, and as I wiped up the blood He sniffed the air and licked His lips. I supressed a shudder as His voice echoed all around me. I could never make out the words, but I have come to feel what He wants. He wants me to kill. _____________________________________________________________________________ I awoke on the floor of the bathroom. How much time had passed? I don’t know, I don’t even care. I went to the living room, and I found Mother lying on the floor, she was obviously drunk or high on drugs again. Father was likely watching some filthy adult film and drinking, otherwise he was at the club as usual. I spat on the floor, filled with disgust at my filthy parents. They should both die. I began imagining how wonderful it would be if they died, how absolutely delightful it would be if I were to kill them. I savoured the thought of their screams as I plunged my imaginary blade into their filthy bodies, my arms moving with a graceful downward sweep as I gutted the Father in my fantasy… Wait. What was I thinking? I love my Mother and Father. Why would I wish them to die? Why would I wish them harm?! I screamed as I ran to my bedroom, slamming the door, locking and unlocking it 17 times before I climbed into bed. As I lay there sobbing He began to laugh, I could never hear His laugh but I could tell because His filthy mouth opened wide and He rocked back and forth with a gleeful expression. I dug my nails into my temples, bit my lip, I punched the wall and screamed into my pillow. But my methods of alleviating the tension no longer worked. I have to kill… _____________________________________________________________________________ I found myself in the kitchen. I seemed to be doing the dishes, but how did I get there? I shrugged as I continued scrubbing the dishes and making my way through the ominous pile of filth to be scrubbed. I moved on to other chores like doing the laundry, I wrinkled my nose at the foul stench of my parents. I almost vomited when I entered the pantry; almost everything was covered in mould and there were roaches and mice in there. I shrieked and slammed the pantry door, I reached for the phone to call an exterminator, but when I looked around I saw the kitchen was… Dusty. I was confused of course, but I just picked up the receiver and put it to my ear. Strange, the line was dead. I called to my parents. No response. They’re probably passed out drunk again. Filthy scum. I ran my fingers over the many scars on my wrists, as I listened to Him whispering. I could almost hear His words now. _____________________________________________________________________________ Dragging myself out of bed I make my way to the bathroom. I don’t know what day it is. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know… I forget what I don’t know. I open and close the drawer 46 times, and I check behind the shower curtain, I tried to turn on all the lights and make sure the monsters aren’t in here, but the lights don’t work anymore. I brush my teeth, this time I remembered to start on the bottom left, so I don’t have to poke myself in the eye as punishment. I make my way downstairs in search of food. I step over the body of my Father and make my way towards Mother, I search her pockets and find the last of her drugs. I put them in my mouth and swallow them wondering what effect these pills will have. I decided that I wanted meat again. I really do enjoy meat. I swat away the maggots and flies and grab my knife, cutting away a piece of Mother’s thigh. I take the thin cut of meat to the oven, I turn on the gas and light it, dropping my snack in the pan. I look up and see Him sitting on the counter. He smiles at me. He moves His mouth, and for the first time ever… I hear Him.

It’s time.