My Phone Gallery:

My phone gallery: 

5% family photos

25% memes

70% pictures of my cats

Abuse is so much worse when the person doing the abusing used to actually love you, and claimed they’d never do anything to hurt you because you meant so much to them.

But then one day they just... changed. And suddenly, you’re just like this object that they use to take their anger out on. And they curse at you, scream at you, blame you for their mistakes. You mean nothing more to them than a speck of dirt. They don’t care when you cry, they don’t do anything to comfort you, especially when they’re the reason you’re crying in the first place.

It’s fucking painful to see a person who used to cherish you treat you like a piece of garbage all the time. It’s painful not having anyone to talk to, being forced to act like you’re okay when really, you’re not. Abuse hurts, no matter what form it takes, and it absolutely sucks. 

Jay in Entry #16: What? Is that blood in the sink?

Also Jay: Proceeds to touch it

Happy New Year, everyone!! Let’s hope 2021 will be better than 2020.

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 1- Over the River and Through the Woods

Yesss, I started a fanfic. I know. Go me, right?

I'm sure you all know the drill by now but, for those of you who don't, here it is:

Y\n = Your name

L\n = Last name

H\c = Hair color

E\c = Eye color

F\c = Favorite color

B\m = Birth month

S\t = Skin tone

B\s = Body shape

L\c = Lip color

H\l = Hair length

Aaaand I think that's it for now. Enjoy the 1st chapter~

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She lets out an inaudible sigh, her head propped in her hand as she gazes out of the blue-tinted window. Trees and small houses whiz by, blurring together and creating an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun is high in the turquoise sky, its heated summer rays shining down through the puffy clouds and shooting beams of light throughout the atmosphere.

She attempts to make fun shapes out of the fluffy, levitating white lumps, though she can't seem to concentrate long enough to truly get anywhere with it. The car would be completely silent if not for the constant humming of the wheels beneath scraping the asphalt and bringing them closer to their destination. Beside Y\n lays her luggage; a simple duffle bag colored a periwinkle purple and a black backpack, each stuffed with various clothes and necessities she deemed imperative to bring along.

Her headphones are placed diligently over her ears, muffling any noise that may come from outside and blocking it out with music of her choice. Her finger fiddles with the wire, twirling it around absentmindedly as she stares through the thin glass, her mind on nothing in particular and instead wandering aimlessly amidst the endless fog of thoughts and memories. She glances to her side- or rather, ahead of her- landing her gaze on her father as he sits in the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel, and concentrating on the stretch of road in front of him. 

He has a rather torpid expression painted across his face, she can see as she looks up at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Not too happy about coming back here, she thinks, narrowing her eyes slightly, but why would he be? It's only his parents. Who cares about them? Certainly not him.

She notices her mother sitting in the passenger's side, brown hair tied back into a neat bun and head craned forward, eyes squinted as she focuses on the glowing screen of her phone; her thumb scrolling the small device listlessly, seemingly in search of something interesting, or perhaps she's reading something that has gained her interest. 

Then something always seems to have gained her interest. Her e\c eyes move back to their previous position, a faint feeling of indignancy rising within her chest and beginning to bubble to the surface. I doubt she even sleeps, always up all night texting her boyfriend.

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and makes her want to spit the foul taste out, though she only swallows and bites the inside of her cheek as if attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something lighthearted, a memory that contains laughter and joy and fondness, however, she finds nothing. She's unable to remember the last time within the last couple of years that she and her family shared a delightful moment together, when her father smiled or her mother was veridical. 

She comes to the demoralizing realization that her family hasn't acted as a family since she was twelve years old, only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn't sure the exact minute that it happened, or have a specific reason as to why it happened, all she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until she felt completely alone; abandoned. Forgotten.

She tried to talk to them, get them to open back up, allow their only child back in, and each time, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. She knew that she was never getting anywhere with her parents, so after many failed attempts, she just stopped her fruitless efforts.

As a result, it was only natural for Y\n to do the same. She wasn't getting the attention she desperately yearned for out of them, and the only thing she knew to do was to follow their lead. She cut off connections with most of her friends, refused to socialize unless it was necessary, kept her emotions locked away in a box, and threw away the key. Stepping out of the light that was society and making herself invisible among most people, even herself at times.

At this point, now sixteen years of age, she still cares deeply about what was to become of their lives, though she always drives the feelings of uncertainty to the back of her dimmed mind. If they don't give a crap, why should I?

She blinks, emerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the vehicle she sits in turn sharply, riding onto a dirt road and deeper into the forest that houses the two people she still holds in high regard. A blue and white sign passes by, and she quickly reads the words written in bold across its metal surface. Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Despite the displeasing situation, she feels a splang of excitement erupt through her chest. Yes, she's nearly there. It will be nice to be loved again, treated fairly, and with affection. Unless they've forgotten about her. Impossible. I'm one of two grandchildren, they would never forget about me. Almost eagerly, she raises her head up, e\c irises gleaming in the slightly obscured sunlight shining in through the trees, and she gives herself a mental pep talk as if to encourage further what she knows should remain true.

It might be awkward... but I'll be fine. I can do it. What if they don't like me? I'm not exactly their 'little hummingbird', anymore... She tries to dismiss the thoughts as she observes her surroundings, trying to find an ounce of familiarity anywhere, though she fails to. Why don't I remember what the scenery looked like? Was that house there, before? Is that tree new? Ugh! I blame Dad for this. If he would've gotten rid of that stick up his butt then I could've been back here long ago! But no. He's so dang spiteful he can't just get over a simple argument like a civilized human being, no. He has to be a jerk about it! Leaving poor Nana and Pops in the dust like that... much like he's doing to me, right now. Oh, the irony. Is it possible to ramble in your head? Cause if so, I think I'm doing it, right now.

With a barely noticeable shake of her head, she pauses her music and gingerly removes her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f\c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing. 

I have so many things to show them! Maybe Nana will let me do a paint job on her wall... I have gotten quite good. She rolls her eyes and lets out a sound similar to a huff. Don't get too ahead of yourself, Y\n. A simple canvas will do just nicely. Besides, she probably has wallpaper... or does she? I don't even remember. There were bright colors, though. Hopefully not too bright... That would be a bit too cheery for my tastes. But whatever. It's their house, I'm only the guest.

A ghost of a smile sweeps across her face when she sees the somewhat familiar, victorian-style cottage come into view, and she feels her heart speed up with elation as they draw nearer. Around the house lies a white picket fence, lined with beautifully planted flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and wrapped themselves around each individual post, leaving a wild, peaceful appearance to it.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door sits an intricate white arch made of thick twine and enlaced with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a gentle shade of cornflower blue, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the sun's bright yellow beams. The window frames are a snow-white, their shutters open and allowing one to see the inside of the home, if only slightly, and the transparent pane is rimmed with stained glass roses. 

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales leaked out of its pages and sprung to life, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It nearly takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for the vehicle to pull over so she can jump out and greet the people that are probably dearest to her heart, despite the long years it's been since she's laid eyes on them.

I forgot how amazing this place was... She unbuckles her seatbelt, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation. I can just about smell her pineapple casserole, already! Finally, the car comes to a slow, almost hesitant stop a few feet from the gate, under a willow tree. She reaches down hastily toward the door handle, though when she pulls it, she finds that the door doesn't budge.

Only then does she realize it hasn't been unlocked and looks up at the man she calls her father expectably, impatiently. She waits a moment, but he makes no move to signify that he's unlocking the car. "Dad," she starts, her voice low and irritated, "open the door, please."

She watches as his hands clench up for a mere second before he releases a small sigh of vexation and presses the 'unlock' button, making the four doors to the vehicle click. Satisfied and vaguely relieved, she pulls on the handle, and the metal portal swings open, the warm summer air immediately greeting her as she steps out onto the vivid green grass. She takes a big whiff of the fresh air, natural scents swirling her nostrils and overwhelming them as she pulls her bags out from the car and slings them over her shoulder.

A sudden swirl of nervousness forms in the pit of her stomach as she steps toward the unfamiliar but yet all too recognizable cottage, questions floating around inside of her brain and making her stop her footsteps. I haven't seen them in years... What if they've changed? What if... they don't like how I've changed?

But her inquiries of doubt soon vanish when she hears a screen door swinging open before an elderly lady steps out, landing her gaze on the h\c girl instantly. Her face contorts into one of pure bliss and exhilaration as a wide smile takes over her aged features, and before Y\n even knows it, she's nearly running toward the arched gateway to meet and reunite with her. All worries she had before either disappear or shove themselves to the back of her mind, leaving her raw excitement to show itself in full form for the first time since she started on this trip.

"Phil, Phil!" the lady all but screams, diving for the gate and waving her hand around frantically. "She's here! Y\n's here!" The girl stands there silently, a smile tugging at her lips when she meets her grandmother's gaze for the first time in what feels like forever. Memories rush back like a large wave, rolling over her consciousness and causing her to remember every detail. As if all she needed was a physical, real-time picture of her to jolt her memory and remind her of how much she adored this woman, this whole place. 

As she hurries toward her, she gets a clear view of her appearance. She's wearing a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes all the way down to her shins, a white and rose-pink apron that ties around her waist as if she's been cooking. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, brittle hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only remind Y\n of how old she has to be getting, now.

A sparkle of joy shines in her e\c orbs as she watches her approach at a surprisingly fast rate, no doubt caused by a rush of adrenaline. "Hi, Nana," she says, her tone warmer than it's been in a long time. She can see her slightly yellowed teeth past her wide grin right before she's enveloped in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around Y\n's frame and pulling her into her as much as she possibly can.

A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; it's a peaceful aroma, a mixture between strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm almost instantly, squeezing her grandmother's scrawny torso as much as she deems appropriate so she doesn't somehow injure her. She registers the screen door once again flying open, the creaking of its likely very old and unoiled hinges making a sound similar to a screech before footsteps are heard running across the polished stone. 

She mentally prepares herself for another bear hug, this time a lot more crushing and powerful, as she remembers how strong and stout of a man her grandfather is. "Oh! My girl is home!" He yells, right before she feels another pair of limbs wrap around her, nearly making her stumble and fall back just from force alone. A small, blissful chuckle leaves her l\c lips, feeling happiness flood inside of her chest, and though it's a different feeling, she certainly doesn't make it unwelcome.

"We've missed you so much!" Nana chirps, finally pulling away after what had to be two solid minutes. Her wrinkled hands lightly grasp her shoulders before moving up to cup her face, gently lifting it to get a better look. A surprised expression forms across her features before it's replaced by a wider- if it's even possible- smile. "Oh, look how much you've grown!" She turns her head toward her husband. "Phil, do you see her?"

"Aye. I sure do," he says with a proud nod of his head. "She's just as beautiful as she was the last time she visited." A small blush dusts itself across her cheeks and she looks to the side, embarrassed. He chuckles. "Just as bashful, too."

"Leave her alone." She turns back to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of h\c hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. "We've missed you so much, sweetie. It's been too long." Y\n only nods shyly, not used to being fawned over as she is at the moment. Behind her, she hears the wheels of the car grinding against the dirt as it pulls out, and she twists her head back just in time to see her parents driving away, leaving her there for what's bound to be at least a couple of weeks.

All without a goodbye. A disgruntled huff leaves her nose and she purses her lips together, her heart starting to feel heavy as she stares in the direction of the dirt road they drove off in. The elderly couple is silent also before Phil clicks his tongue, though, in disappointment or anger, she isn't sure. "Well, how about that. No 'hello' or anything." 

"They're not big on hellos," Y\n mutters, feeling her fists clench. "Or goodbyes." Her grandma places a reassuring hand on her arm before grabbing her hand and talking in a sympathetic voice.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm not sure what thorn got stuck in their shoe, but they need to get it out." She tightens her grip before letting out a sigh. "Anyway, we have to catch up! I haven't seen you since you were a little girl." She looks back at the old woman and allows a more peaceful expression to grace her features. "How old are you, now? Fifteen?"

"She looks more grown-up than that," Phil comments and Y\n shrugs lightly, biting her lip.

"Uhm... I'm sixteen. Gonna be seventeen in B\m."

"My word!" Her Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. "You're practically an adult, already!" 

"Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah," he says, and Y\n's eyes light up momentarily as she remembers one of the main reasons she's always adored this place so much. 

"Marshmallow?" She questions, unsure excitement beginning to course through her, once again. "He's still alive?"

"Why, yes, he is," Farrah laughs cheerily, as if surprised by her inquiry. "Getting on up there, though. I'm a little shocked to know you remember him."

"Of course I remember him," she says, her voice growing louder from exhilaration. "He's my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me..." 

"I'm sure he does," Phil says. "He was always followin' you around. Probably cause you spoiled him so much with milk and meat from the pantry." She grins sheepishly and rubs the back of her neck. 

"He needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled."

"Very good point." Farrah smiles. 

"And yet I can't even have a dog in the house," he grumbles playfully. "You cat lovers don't make any sense."

"We don't have to make sense," Farrah says. "Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such. That's as much sense as you need."

"Sure, sure." He waves her off. "You treat that cat better than you do me."

"Well, you're not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?" She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs. 

"I can lay in your lap if that's what you want."

"No, thank you."

"Well, c'mon woman, make up your mind!"

"My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear." She pulls Y\n toward her and begins walking toward the cottage that the teenager hasn't stepped foot in for five years, and she follows behind, although somewhat reluctantly. "You must be starving."

"You want me to carry those for you?" Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widened slightly, clearly taken off-guard by the sudden offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

"N-no thanks, Pops. I got it."

"Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy." Her grip automatically tightens on the straps hanging from her shoulder before shrugging, trying to get used to being asked frequent questions and being around people who actually care about her.

"Um... clothes and stuff." She replies quietly as they step through the arched gateway. They walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble, steadily getting closer to the painted oak door. She glances around, beside her feet, only to see a trail of tulips, consisting of pink, white, red, and violet, planted on either side of the carefully placed rock pathway. It continues to amaze her how her grandparents can manage to keep the garden beautiful, while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape.

Good genes, I guess.

"You got any o' those modern technology things that kids use nowadays?"

"I mean... I have a phone. And an MP3 player... and a laptop."

"Oi," he laughs, "I thought you were comin' here to get away from that stuff and spend a few weeks, old-person style." A hint of pink spreads across her cheeks, and suddenly, she feels a little guilty.

"I-I mean, I just brought them to do art and stuff, I wasn't meaning to intrude-"

"Oh, hush, Phil." Farrah scolds her husband, turning to face Y\n with a kind smile. "Calm down, sweetie. You can bring anything and do anything you want here, okay? Don't feel ashamed or unwelcome." Her eyes radiate a kind of warmth and friendliness that Y\n hasn't been shown in a long time, and she slowly nods, allowing a small smile to stretch across her face. "Good. Now, welcome home."

She stands aside and allows the teen to enter the household, e\c eyes widening when she sees the interior. Along the floor lays a hand-made rug, in the shape of a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. To her left is an open entrance to what appears to be a cozy living room, with a pink floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the direction of the front door is an armchair of the same material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and underneath it is an oak plank floor. 

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a white table and four chairs slid neatly on each side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are see-through and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight in front of her is a dark oak staircase, which she remembers to lead up and to the bedrooms and the other bathroom in the comfy home. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that twists around the length of the area, excluding the refrigerator, the oven, and the sink.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs that she assumes lead to pots, pans, and other dishes to use with cooking and eating. In the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses and three plates stacked onto one another. 

A scent of honeysuckle wafts up into her nose, as well as the familiar pineapple casserole that she only recently realized she missed, mixing together and creating a sense of nostalgia. She almost cries from pure joy right then and there. I really did miss this place...

"Make yourself comfortable, dear," Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new, but familiar, surroundings. "I made pineapple casserole, in case you're hungry. That is still your favorite, right?" Y\n only nods and gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that hit her simply by walking through the door.

Her gaze sweeps over everything in awe as she stops in front of the staircase, glancing back at her grandmother almost timidly and speaking up. "Um... where can I stay at?" A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah's eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

"Ah, yes. You remember your aunt Darcy's old room?" She nods, quickly catching onto what she's referring to. "That is where you can sleep, store your things, anything. I mean, your dad's room is available, too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly concert posters and figurines."

"Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy's room will be fine," she replies, turning and beginning her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The idea of staying in her father's childhood bedroom doesn't sit right in her stomach. "Thank you, Nana."

"Are you sure you don't need any help with your bags?" She questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y\n's ears. "They look awfully heavy."

"No, it's okay, I got 'em," she responds, reaching the top stair and taking a moment to navigate the somewhat narrow space before her. Beneath her shoes is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway, to her immediate right is a small polished, wooden table used to place a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left slightly ajar, revealing a little bit of the interior to her and reminding her that this is indeed where she's going. 

She uses her free hand to push it open, e\c eyes lighting up when she steps inside of the nostalgic bedroom. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, the floor is crafted out of ash wood planks and complements the design and hues nicely. In the center side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubby hole into the wall and at a straight angle next to a window. Surrounding the bed, built into the wall, are two bookshelves, both on either side and filled with colorful books of varying sizes. 

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer, one of which she remembers to be a trundle bed, as it pulls out and creates another area for a second person to sleep in. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with a thin pair of string. In one of the corners, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside in order to cushion it. To her right is what she recalls to be a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer gripping onto the top edge of it. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernable.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A painted oak desk sits pressed against the wall across from her, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp sits atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools, a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a robin paperweight, and a small mirror. 

She releases an inaudible sigh, allowing the corners of her lips to twitch upward in a content smile as she walks further inside, dropping her bags onto the bed and giving herself a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation forms within her chest; one she hasn't experienced in a number of years, and she quickly realizes that she enjoys it. She turns her head and gazes out the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun's golden rays shine down through the towering trees.

Her stomach suddenly rumbles and only then does she realize that she hasn't had anything to eat since the beginning of the six-hour trip to her grandparents' house, so she understandably feels hungry. Eager to stuff something down her throat and ease her mild sense of famine, she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, heading down the stairs and, once again being greeted by the pleasant scent of the sweet food dish. 

Farrah, who is currently standing in the kitchen, sends Y\n an affectionate smile and motions for her to come in with a wave of her hand. "Hi, dear. Settled in already?" The teenager shakes her head slightly, following the smell and stepping inside.

"Not quite, Nana. I'm hungry, and the thought of eating something this delicious couldn't wait." The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates and handing it to Y\n. She takes it in her hands and sends her a grateful look.

"Well, eat all you want. There are mashed potatoes, rolls, and a turkey on the oven." She points to the stove behind her, and Y\n follows her gaze, seeing the white meat sticking out of an old crockpot, the homemade rolls neatly placed on a cooking sheet, and the mashed potatoes scooped into a metal, floral-patterned container. "Just be careful and don't burn yourself. It's still hot." She nearly drools at the sight and nods, hastily making her way over to the food items as her stomach continues speaking to her.

Gripping a large spoon, she dips it into the potatoes and scoops some out and onto her empty plate before leaving the utensil there and moving on to the chicken. She equips a fork and cautiously picks off three or four fair-sized pieces, then grabs a tasty roll of bread, leaving just enough room for her favorite dish. "Geez, Nana," she says, making her way over to the pineapple casserole on the island, "this is a lot of food. If you would've waited, I could have helped you and you wouldn't have had to do it all on your own."

"Honey, don't worry about that. This is something I wanted to do, something special. After all, we haven't seen you in almost six years." As she places a rather large helping of the treat onto her platter, she can't stop the small notion of guilt forming within her chest, though above that lies utter delight. 

I can't believe this woman is Dad's mom. "But..." She begins to butter her roll, glancing at Farrah with slightly furrowed eyebrows. "...you didn't have to do all of this for me. I would've been happy with anythi-"

"Hush, now." She cuts her off, kindness sparkling in her deep brown orbs as she places a gentle hand upon her granddaughter's shoulder. "Thank you for being humble about it. But I promise I wanted to do this. There isn't a need to fret over it. Just enjoy the meal, please." She feels compelled to hug her, again, though ultimately refrains because she doesn't want to accidentally spill her food that Farrah likely spent hours hard at work in the kitchen to make. 

Tears threatening to form in her eyes, she only smiles fondly, her grip on the plate tightening ever so slightly. "O-okay... Thank you." 

"Now go and eat." She gently pushes her in the direction of the living room, an empathetic expression on her aged face. "What do you want to drink?" 

"O-oh, no thanks, Nana, I can get it." Farrah's lips part as if she's about to argue, but Y\n shakes her head and walks over toward the fridge, ultimately silencing her. She opens the door and pulls out a water bottle before lightly shutting it back with her foot and grabbing her plate from off of the counter. "Is Pops eating, already?"

"He is." She nods in confirmation. "And he's waiting for both of us to sit with him."

"Well, I wouldn't wanna disappoint him by not showing up." She allows a small, cheeky grin to form across her face before turning around, walking through the living room, and soon arriving at the dining table, where she sees her grandpa silently eating his own share of the food. She takes a seat across from him and lays her plate and bottle of water in front of her, drawing the attention of the man and causing his gaze to shift up to her. 

"Hello, young lady," he greets affectionately, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. "Getting settled in okay?"

"Yes, sir," she replies with a slight dip of her head. 

"Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you're used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I'm sorry if it doesn't meet your expectations." Her eyes widen- almost a comical amount- and she looks at him as if he just attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes in her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

"No, Pops. It does. The country's amazing." She brushes a strand of h\c hair behind her ear and swallows the tasty vegetable. "City life isn't that good. Honestly, I'd rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse." A large, satisfied smile reaches his wrinkled features, and his eyes crinkle up before he lets out a jolly laugh.

"You hear this, Farrah?" He glances back at the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her husband of many years. "This girl's too pure to be tainted. We should keep her here."

A kind grin stretches her lips though she shakes her head nonetheless. "I don't think her parents would approve of that, Phil."

"My parents wouldn't care," Y\n mumbles in response, noticing the sad looks being thrown her way, and she eats a fork-full of pineapple casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that's fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the plate in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

"I'm sure that's not true, sweetie." Farrah's voice is gentle and reassuring. Y\n only shrugs.

"I mean, they never cared, before. Why would they now?" Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b\c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just stares at her with sympathy. 

"That's shameful," he starts, his voice filled with disdain. "They're your parents, Y\n."

"I know that, you know that. They know that. But they ignore it all the same."

"When did this start, sweetheart?" the old woman questions, taking a sip of her drink. 

"A few years ago. I don't know, really." It's silent for several moments, and Y\n starts wishing she wouldn't have even said anything. Way to ruin the mood, Y\n. Good going, really.

"Hun, they're not... abusing you, or anything, right?" The teenager can sense the hesitancy in her words as if she's afraid to hear the answer, and Y\n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

"N-no, Nana, don't worry. Nothing like that." She releases an audible huff of air, likely relieved to hear her answer. 

"Do they do anything?" Phil asks, leaning forward slightly and facing his granddaughter with concern. She wracks her brain for a coherent reply. 

"Uh... no, not-not really." She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to mask the hurt in her own but failing. "They hardly even talk to me, anymore. They don't even talk to each other anymore. Dad's always too busy and Mom is..." She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously starts tapping her foot against the floor lightly; a nervous habit of hers when she feels her anxiety level rising. 

Her mind flashes with images of her mother's phone going off out of nowhere, then her mother's face lighting up whenever she reads whatever message had just been sent. She knows it hasn't ever been her father; he was always there with them when it happened. Her mom hasn't smiled that wide for her husband in a long time. Not to even mention those couple of nights she's caught her sneaking out. When she would ask about it, her mother would snap at her and tell her it's for "business" and then leave without a trace, sometimes not even coming back until the next night.

Her foot makes a soft thump thump thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. "Um... keeping secrets." Phil and Farah share a brief glance.

"What kind of secrets, darlin'?" her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand. 

"I think that, uhm... I think that she's cheating on Dad." She doesn't look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they'll judge her and her parents. "I mean, she's been acting really weird, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I've caught her before but she just got mad and said it was 'business-related'." She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Plus, Mom and Dad haven't gone out on a date in years. And I-I don't know, it's just... concerning."

"Sweetie," Farah starts, and Y\n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adapted, "that isn't good." She only shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food, though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. "We need to talk to them about this."

"No," she interjects, finally meeting Farrah's eyes with frightened e\c ones. "They can't know I told you all of this. They-they'll be mad at me and give me all kinds of crap." 

"Are you sure, Y\n?" Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed distaste. "You don't need to be in a house with two people that unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us." Although the thought of staying in a house with her loving grandparents sounds nice, she ultimately refuses by shaking her head, once again and speaking in a quiet voice.

"No, it's okay. Thanks." Despite the fact that her parents don't seem to care about her, anymore, she would most definitely ruin what little of a relationship remains between the three of them if they were to find out about what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn't want that. She doesn't want her parents to hate her; that would be a terrible feeling. And she doesn't want to experience it.

The rest of the dinner goes by slowly for the h\c girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more light-hearted things in an effort to cheer her up, and it seems to work. They ask her about school, her friends, if she has a boyfriend, yet, which she responds to with valid answers. "It's good", "I don't have friends", and "No". It was making itself more apparent to them within each question she replies to that she isn't living a normal, healthy life. But they figure it'd be best not to pry too much. After all, she's here for a break, not to be bombarded with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after finishing the tasty food, pushes the chair back into the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling filled-up and tired. Her gaze averts to one of the windows, able to see the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is beginning to set below the horizon and darkness would soon replace its blaze of light. 

"Marshmallow is probably waiting outside, if you want to let him in for the night," the elderly woman calls from the dining room as Y\n puts her dishes in the sink and proceeds to rinse them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won't be able to see it.

"Okay, Nana." She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and places them in the plastic drainer resting on the countertop, right beside the sink, before walking perhaps a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and gently swinging it open, being greeted by the warm summer air and the flowers swaying in the soft breeze.

She glances around the small porch, and can't help but quirk her lips up in a smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face in order to clean himself. He looks up at her curiously, and she approaches slowly to avoid scaring him.

"Marshmallow? You remember me?" She sticks her hand out and allows him to sniff her fingers before affectionately rubbing his head. "It's Y\n. I haven't been here in a while."

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he's recieving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him up to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her shoulder and she can hear the distinct sound of purring, a sound she hasn't heard in years. 

"Aww," she coos, unable to stop herself from fawning over the furry creature. "I missed you, too, little buddy." She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door carefully behind her, nearly walking right into Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass of what holds just a few droplets of her drink.

She takes notice of Y\n and grins slightly at the sight. "Ah, see? We told you he'd remember you." The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and lightly hits her in the arm, making her chuckle. 

"Yeah. He's just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly." As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles fondly as she places the plates into the sink. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

"No, thank you, hun." She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. "You just spend some time with the fur baby. Maybe unpack, I know you didn't have time to, before." Y\n feels Marshmallow begin to struggle against her hold, so she bends down and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump to the floor and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl. 

"Are you sure? You've already done so much work already-"

"I can't believe you're the spawn of my son," she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. "It'll be fine, sweetie. I've got it covered. You go and relax." Y\n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won't do her any good to argue with her. Letting out a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles in front of the staircase.

"Okay... but, tell me if you need help?"

"Stop worrying. You're the guest here." Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unknowingly being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her duffle bag, unzipping it, and taking out clothing piece by clothing piece. As she twists to walk to the closet, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who was in the process of rubbing against her leg and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat. 

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the sudden adrenaline rush that floods her system, but once she does, she scoffs but smirks nonetheless. "Trying to trip me, already?" She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his back feet as a response. "Silly cat."

She makes as few trips as possible hanging up her clothes in the small walk-in closet and putting things like undergarments and pants inside of the shelf of drawers that stands at the opposite end of the door, realizing that the space doesn't have a lot of her aunt's old clothes inside, anymore.

Nana probably put them in storage or something.

When she's done unpacking, sorting through, and putting everything away, she lifts her now-empty duffle bag and sets it down beside the desk. She decides against taking out the supplies from her backpack, partly because she's getting consistently sleepier, and partly because she feels a little odd getting comfortable here that quickly. 

Marshmallow found a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag during the early stages of unpacking and is now sleeping rather soundly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall within each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring his ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she had pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many things have happened since then, causing her to force nice memories into the back of her mind and focus on the grim things in her life.

Sitting on the bed, her gaze trails out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can't help but admire the scenery and feel a trace of disappointment that she hasn't seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and stares up, mixed emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

I sure hope so...

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 4 - Take Me Away, A Secret Place

———

The morning eventually comes, and it brings the bright, cheerful sunlight with it, much to Y\n's relief. The golden rays shine in through her window pane, forcing her to press a hand to her eyes and give herself a chance to adjust to the light invading her vision. She's kept herself awake for the whole rest of the night, starting from when she woke up from that horrific nightmare at around eleven-thirty and absolutely, under any circumstances, refused to go back to sleep.

Troubling subjects have been laying heavy on her mind for the past six hours, and no matter what she does to rid herself of them, it never works. At least, it hasn't yet. She's tried scrolling through the internet, watching YouTube videos, she even started another painting, though she only managed a few brush strokes before she scrapped it altogether and fell to the floor in a tired rage.

She isn't going to deny the fact that she's mentally exhausted, from both the lack of sleep and anxiety that's been creeping through her nerves the entire day thus far. After around two hours of laying in bed, she decided to get up and go downstairs for a glass of water. Then she decided against it, mainly due to the fact that she already had a perfectly good bottled water sitting right beside her bed. She considered wandering down to watch some TV, or eat some food, or virtually anything she could do to get her mind off of what had happened, but also blew off that idea fairly quickly.

She didn't want to be the reason for her grandparents waking up, especially because of a stupid little dream. Even though she, herself, knows that it wasn't just a 'stupid little dream'. Whether it has a deeper meaning or not, it terrified her, and that's all the convincing she needs to not want to have one like it, or one even worse. She just fears that she would be scolded for having such childish agitation over something that, in all reality, can't even physically hurt her.

Well... the things in her head can't hurt her. But what she saw... was that really in her head? Sure, one could blame paranoia, panicked delusions, a tired, frantic state that made her hallucinate something that wasn't really there. Like sleep paralysis, though she knows for a fact that she wasn't experiencing sleep paralysis.

So what was it? Maybe a strangely-shaped tree bent by the light in the right way to make it look scary? Some type of humanoid animal? Or perhaps it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, after all? She isn’t entirely sure, but she does know that whatever it was, it was unsettling and very out-of-place.

And then there’s the nightmare. That is the second time in barely three days that she’s had a nightmare like that. Sure, bad dreams are no stranger to her; she’s been experiencing them since she was a little kid, though they became more common after her life started to fall apart. But none of them were like that. Her mind had never been in such a gut-wrenching, sinister state before, and it deeply concerns her.

What would make her think up such a scenario? Her cousin, one of her very best childhood friends, being dead? Right before her very eyes? She’s thought, maybe it has something to do with the odd conversation that she shared with her grandfather just a day prior? But he didn’t say anything that should ever make her think anyone was murdered. Especially Wyatt.

Although it’s still a mystery to her, she knows that nothing like that could’ve happened during her long absence… right? If it had, someone would have called her dad to inform him, then he would have told her. He isn’t the best person or the best father by any stretch, but surely he wouldn’t keep her in the dark about something so horrific, right?

She’s tried to forget about it, even though she knows that it’s likely going to be something that sticks with her for quite a while, and she’s tried to calm herself down. It was just a dream. Nothing more. She hasn’t anything to worry about. It was just a startling vision that her mind created to scare her. It’s all the stress finally getting her, that’s all.

A feeling of dread and terror has settled inside of her stomach, and though it has faded considerably since she awoke, it’s still there and very present, plaguing her mind, repeating the nightmare over and over again in her head, making her miserable. As if it’s saying, “The worst has yet to come”.

She will ask Nana and Pops. She will get to the bottom of why her aunt, uncle, and Wyatt never, supposedly, come down to visit. Once she gets them to answer, finds out why her grandpa was acting so suspicious yesterday, gets it through her head that it isn’t as bad as she’s made herself think it is, then maybe, just maybe, she won’t be bombarded with such terrible thoughts each time she tries to sleep.

She blinks, adjusting to the bright, bulbous orb that slowly appears from behind the trees, and watching as the stars fade away, the moon following close behind them. The sky changes from a deep, royal blue to a vivid maya in the span of only a few minutes.

Her eyelids feel heavy, and even without checking the time she knows it has to be around six-thirty to seven in the morning based on the low place that the sun rests in the sky. She leans her back against the wall, letting out a soft, distressed sigh and allowing her eyes to shut for but a brief moment. Any more and she would drift back off to sleep, and she doesn’t want to do that. Not any time soon. Not until she’s been reassured that nothing like what her dream suggested actually happened.

Rubbing her eyes to rid herself of the drowsy feeling still messing with her senses, she sits up fully in her bed, finally able to convince herself that now would be a good time to go downstairs and start her day. Quietly, of course, so she doesn’t wake her grandparents.

Maybe she can make them breakfast like Nana has done for her so many times, recently and in the past. She’s never been a very skilled cooker, but she can make simple things like scrambled eggs, bacon, and French toast. What’s the worst that can happen? Okay, she can set the kitchen on fire, or make the stove explode, or overcook/undercook everything and give the residents of the household food poisoning, but she prefers not to think of those unlikely—but possible— outcomes.

With a small mental protest, she wearily rises out of bed, walking over to her closet to find some decent clothes for the day and changing into mentioned clothes before heading toward the bathroom, although somewhat cautiously. She’s still on-edge about the events that took place mere hours ago, and she figures that she probably will be until she can get another, more light-hearted subject on her mind. Like making breakfast for two people she loves. It sounds like a fool-proof plan to her, and she fully intends to stick to it.

She isn’t exactly sure what time they wake up, but her guess is somewhere between seven-thirty to eight, or even eight-twenty-five. The hall is still considerably dark, thanks to there being no windows around to light it up a bit, and it makes her nerves spike as she hurries to the targeted room.

Once there, she closes the door quietly and turns on the light, her eyes falling on the mirror straight in front of her, and she leans against the sink, studying her reflection with a blank mind. Her hair has most definitely seen better days, though that’s something easily fixable. Her eyes are the problem.

They look almost completely drained of energy, and the dark rings right beneath them make it clear that she didn’t rest well the night before. She dips her head down after turning on the faucet and splashes cool water against her face, hoping to get rid of some of that ‘I just woke up and I’m exhausted’ look that her reflection stares back at her with.

Her eyes get wider and already, she feels more alert and aware of her surroundings; the exact thing she was wanting to accomplish. She then does everything she deems necessary before she goes back out, snatching her phone from off of her bed and her Bluetooth wireless earbuds, and trekking down the stairs, taking joy in the fact that natural, bright light is shooting through the windows and illuminating the majority of the main floor.

She spots Marshmallow sitting atop a chair, seemingly content grooming himself and only sparing her a short, unphased glance as she appears at the bottom of the staircase. Smiling lightly, she makes her way over to him and squats to his level, currently not caring if she interrupts his self-given bath, stroking his head in greeting and giving him an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

“Hey, little buddy,” she says, her voice lowered as she gingerly scratches his chin. “You having a good morning?” His mouth latches around her finger, not hard enough to make her bleed but she’s certain his sharp teeth will leave indents for a few minutes once they’ve left. She pulls her hand back and rolls her eyes. “Yeah? Me, too.”

She stands back up and straightens her posture, catching a glimpse of the front door before she looks back down at him curiously.

“You ready to go out?” She points at the door, and he seems to get the gist of what she’s saying because he releases a meow of protest and stretches his body out. “Well, I know it’s early.” She crosses her arms. “That doesn’t mean you can’t go hunting or whatever.” Marshmallow jumps from his position on the chair and walks toward his empty food bowl, looking back at Y\n expectantly. “Oh, c’mon. You’re perfectly capable of going out and getting your own food.”

She’s met with a loud and, frankly impatient, meow, and she huffs but begins her small journey to the pantry nonetheless.

“Fine, fine. You win.” When she arrives, she gazes idly through the various cans of food, bags of flour, and boxes of cereal and rice and beans, trying to locate the bag of branded cat food she knows has to be in here. “Last time I was here, they kept it in this room…” She mutters to herself, bending down to look beneath the shelves. Her eyes land on a red and white bag, the top ripped open and a metal scoop resting inside.

Instantly recognizing it as her desired item thanks to the large cat head printed on the front, she takes the handle of the scoop and dips it farther into the brown pebbles of cat food, walking back out soon after and dumping it in Marshmallow's bowl. He lets out a satisfied meow and sticks his nose into it briefly, as if checking that it isn't fake, before seeming content enough and beginning to eat it.

Y\n pats him on the head and returns the scoop to its rightful place inside of the pantry, closing the door behind her and going to the kitchen. She turns on the overhead light, enabling her to see a lot better than she could previously, and grabs different ingredients from the fridge, including a carton of large eggs, cheese, water, vanilla extract, syrup, and a pack of bacon. Then she moves to collect salt and pepper, a loaf of Sunbeam bread, cooking oil, a whisk, a mixing bowl, three separate skillets, and three plates.

Happy that Nana has all of the stuff that she needs in order to create this easy and, hopefully, good-quality breakfast, she puts in her earbuds, turns on some music, and begins by mixing up the scrambled eggs and putting a few strips of bacon on a skillet. Not having made breakfast in quite a while, she's a bit rusty, and it takes a few moments to remember what exactly she's supposed to do, though she gets the hang of it pretty quickly, and in around thirty-five minutes, she has the food all ready to eat and is washing up the used dishes after dividing everything up and pouring them onto plates.

I wonder when they'll get up... she thinks, glancing at the food then at the staircase that leads up to their bedroom. Breakfast will get cold if they don't come down soon. As if on cue, she hears a set of heavy footsteps from upstairs as they stop by and go into what she assumes to be the bathroom. Drying her hands, she grabs two of the three plates, walking into the dining room and setting them on the rectangle table before going to get the third one. As she passes the door again, she sees Marshmallow sitting and pawing at its surface, not-so-subtly implying what he expects of her.

She inwardly sighs and looks down at him with a raised eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip. "Really? Now you want to go out?" She receives a 'meow' in response, and she rolls her eyes but unlocks the door nonetheless, Marshmallow standing and backing away to ensure he doesn't get hit by it swinging open and then waiting for her to push the screen open. On his way out, he rubs against her leg and lightly flicks his tail in her direction, a gesture she takes as appreciation before he jumps off the porch and disappears around the corner of the house.

Around that time, she hears a door on the second floor open and that same pair of footsteps walking closer to the staircase, and she turns her head to look behind her, seeing her grandpa cautiously making his way down, making sure to hold onto the wooden rail for support. She shuts the door and plasters a smile across her face, stepping forward to greet him once he reaches the floor, though he speaks before she can.

"Hey, hummingbird!" he says, glancing at the clock hung on the wall beside the door to check the time before meeting her gaze. "What are you doin' up? It's only seven-forty-eight." Her smile turns slightly timid and she holds back a yawn, instead opting to keep her response simple so she doesn't make him worried and shrug her shoulders.

"Uh, well... I just, thought I'd get up early. Make breakfast..." Then her eyes widen and she signals toward the dining table on the opposite side of the living room. "Oh yeah, I made breakfast! Is Nana gonna be up soon, too?" He shakes his head in the negative, giving Y\n a friendly pat on her shoulder and walking toward the table.

"Nah. She didn't sleep very well last night, she probably won't be up for a couple of hours yet." Y\n glances at the plate of food laying on the island in the center of the kitchen, feeling a pang of pity erupt throughout her chest. She grabs it and places a sheet of plastic wrap over it diligently and puts it on a shelf in the fridge, hoping that Nana will feel like eating when she does finally get up.

She fills two glasses with milk and brings them back into the dining room, giving one to Phil and the other she keeps, taking a seat in one of the four identical chairs placed around the table. "How come? Was she having bad dreams?" Part of her wonders whether or not her grandma is suffering the same symptoms as herself, though she seriously doubts it. But it never hurts to ask, she supposes.

"Heh, no." He takes a bite of eggs, taking his time to finish his reply, and she takes his silence as an opportunity to begin eating, as it seems like she won't have to be in any hurry to say anything for a few moments. She has to admit, she didn't do a bad job with making the food. The eggs could use a bit more salt, but other than that, she's quite proud of how it all turned out, especially since she hasn't made a proper meal in several months. "Just aching joints, mostly. That and stress."

She lifts her eyes curiously at this, and he continues looking down at his plate, taking steady bites and not seeming to acknowledge her questioning gaze, nor what he had said. After around thirty seconds of silence, she breaks it, wanting to know what would possibly be stressing her grandmother out so much that it interferes with her sleep. "What do you mean stress? Is there something wrong?"

Only now does he meet her eyes, his face morphing into one of realization, and he furrows his eyebrows. "Well, yeah..." His voice wavers ever-so-slightly, and it's so precise that even Y\n almost doesn't notice it. "I mean, w-with your parents, and everything."

"Why would my parents stress you guys out?" She can tell that at least part of his statement isn't 100% true, though she doesn't want to pressure him and instead be easy with it. After all, if he wants to tell her, he'll tell her. "They're my problem, not yours."

"Darlin', if your parents aren't treating you right, that makes them our problem, too. Especially your dad." Perhaps she just isn't used to people willingly getting involved in her personal life, but those two sentences sound so strange to her. They also sound touching, so much so it makes her heartbeat speed up. "We're not going to stand aside and let you be neglected and mistreated."

She swallows, trying to keep the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes at bay, and takes a shaky breath. "Well... thanks, Pops..." Her tone is soft and genuine, probably the most genuine it's been in quite a while, and she sends him a grateful smile. He briefly returns it, turning his attention back to his food and continuing to eat.

A couple of minutes pass, and silence is all that's heard as the two enjoy the meal, Y\n's mind swarming with thoughts. How could she have forgotten how pure her grandparents are? How has she gone nearly half of her life without their wholesome influence? How could her father just get rid of almost all connections with them and act like they don't even exist? It's a totally shameful thing to do, and that fact is only just now making itself apparent to her. How could he? After they raised him? After they gave him and Aunt Darcy all of their love? How could he just stop talking to them like that?

It's bad enough that he refuses to visit with them, but then he goes and forces her to do the same thing? How could her father be so utterly selfish that he abandons what should be two of the most important people in his life? It doesn't make any sense to her. Then again, her father hasn't really made much sense since all of this pointless drama started, so she guesses it won't get much more sensible from here on out.

At least her aunt still treats them like her parents. Or... she did the last time Y\n was here. It's unknown what she does, now, which makes the dream she had flash into her mind. Just what happened between her aunt and her grandparents? Taking a composing breath through her nose and biting the inside of her cheek somewhat nervously, she speaks, again. "Pops... can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Y\n. Ya don't have to be shy around me." She averts her gaze to a wall, gathering her thoughts and attempting to form a coherent sentence.

"Well... you said, yesterday when I asked about Aunt Darcy, that you'd tell me later." She tries to keep her voice raised enough so he can hear her well, as his ears aren't 'what they used to be', as he's told her. "And... well, it's later, so..."

She sees him stiffen and stare down as if trying to sort through his thoughts, and she waits patiently, if not anxiously, for his response. It's clearly a serious matter that he feels hesitant to discuss, but surely it can't be anything like what her dreams suggested, right? No, absolutely not. She would've been informed a long time ago if something like that had happened. They probably just lost touch. Maybe they moved far away from here and they feel sad talking about it.

"Y\n..." He catches her full attention when he starts, and he almost seems to crumble under her apprehensive gaze. "I think you should wait and talk about this with your grandmother. I'm afraid I'm not the best, uh..." He rubs the stubble on his chin and releases a humorless laugh. "I don't explain things very well."

"Please?" She really doesn't want to resort to begging, but she has to know. If her mind is going to be put to ease, it needs to know that her dream is nothing more than that; a dream. What she saw isn't real, and it will never be. So she can relax and enjoy the rest of her vacation with her grandparents. He opens his mouth like he's about to further argue his point, but she beats him to it. "I don't care if you're not good at explaining things. Just tell me? Please?"

He stares across the table at her for a good minute before finally letting out a defeated sigh and sliding his now-empty plate to the side in order to give him room to rest his arms comfortably across the wooden surface in front of him, muttering something about how 'she'd have to know eventually'.

"Look, Y\n..." He looks like he's currently straining himself for the correct words to say, and she doesn't take her eyes off of him. "...around a year and a half, two years ago..." He meets her e\c orbs, his own holding great pain and hesitation. She subconsciously squeezes the fork within her hand, her lips parting slightly in anticipation. What happened? Did they get into a fight? Did Aunt Darcy and Uncle Marvin get divorced? "...Wyatt disappeared. And... and Darcy and Marvin were murdered."

Her breath hitches as her mind tries to comprehend this newly-delivered information. No, no... that couldn't have happened. All of it was a dream, nothing more. Her mind didn't predict anything. It couldn't have. No, Pops has to be joking... but what if he isn't? She leans forward in shock, eyebrows raised and heart skipping a beat as she forces one single word out of her mouth. "Wh-what...?" It comes out as a whisper, and he runs his fingers through his white, thin hair.

"I-I really shouldn't be telling you this."

"How...?" She fights the tears in her eyes and gulps, nervous to hear his answer. He only shakes his head.

"That's too descriptive, I don't think you need to—"

"Were they stabbed? S-strangled? Shot?" She isn't sure why, but she wants to know. Despite how painful it will be. She tilts her head in distress and considers the way he stares at her, seeming to contemplate what she said. Her eyes are pleading, desperate, and her bottom lip quivers vaguely.

"They... they were stabbed. Probably by the javelin that Marvin kept in the living room, because it was missing, a-and the wounds were... messy, they said." She drops her fork and shoves her plate aside, resting her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands as she comprehends all of this. How could this have happened? These are things that are only supposed to take place in movies, on crime shows, not in real life. It isn't supposed to happen to her family.

"And... and Wyatt?" Her voice is muffled and quiet as her stomach quickly becomes queasy.

"Nobody knows. He just... vanished." Her heart gets caught in her throat and she releases a small sound similar to a whimper. "There are theories that he... that he killed them and then took off to get away from the law." She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut and gripping strands of her hair.

"H-he wouldn't. He loves them..."

"I know. I think that's an absurd theory, myself." He rests a consoling hand on her arm in an effort to bring her comfort. She barely even registers the touch and focuses on the thoughts running rampant through her mind. How could her aunt and uncle be dead? How could her cousin be missing? How could anybody think he had anything to do with it? "I knew this would be a lot to handle, I'm sorry, darlin'."

"Wh-why didn't I know about this?" She lifts her head just enough to meet his eyes, her voice unsteady. "If it happened that long ago, why was I kept in the dark?"

"Trust me, we tried to tell you. We tried to tell your dad, your mom, but neither of them listened to us. They ignored our calls, wouldn't let us get on the phone with you. You deserved to know, and I'm sorry it's taken us this long to tell you." She can't stop her hands from shaking as a tear rolls down her cheek.

"Y-you mean Dad... Dad didn't care that his sister was dead?" Bitterness and a form of disbelief lace her voice as her eyes seem to bare holes into the table in front of her.

"He didn't want to believe it. I think he convinced himself it didn't actually happen and refused to acknowledge any of it." A rich, overwhelming fear washes over her and nearly makes her throw up as she bites her lip, so hard it almost draws blood, though she doesn't pay attention to the pain. Her eyes narrow in on Phil and she removes her hands from her face to get a better view of him, and so her voice wouldn't be indistinct.

"You... you're not joking, are you?" He shakes his head slowly, and goosebumps form along the skin of her arms.

"No... I'm so sorry. I know you were close with them..."

"I, uh..." She stands to her feet, grabbing her dishes and not having the stomach to finish her breakfast. "I'm gonna... go. Out, f-for a walk." As she walks around the table and past Phil, he lightly takes hold of her wrist to get her attention, and she glances down at him with glossy eyes.

"...I didn't want to scare you, or make you feel so bad, Y\n. I just... didn't want to lie to you."

"N-no, it's okay," she says, though her tone implies otherwise. "Thank you. I-I wanted to know." Before he can say anything else, she easily pulls away from his grasp and heads toward the kitchen, dumping her scraps in the large trash can before washing the dishes, putting them in the drainer to dry, pocketing her phone, and going toward the front door once again. "Um, if Nana wakes up  before I'm back, please tell her that there's food in the fridge."

Not waiting for a reply although not exactly expecting one, she exits the home, shutting the screen behind her and speed-walking toward the white gate. She finds herself in a hurry to get some privacy, be in solitude so she can express herself more clearly without fear of being judged. Though tears now stream freely down her cheeks, she tries to hold them back until she's concealed in the thick greenery of the forest, and she takes the very same path she did yesterday, and many times before, this time not paying attention to what she steps on and what she doesn't.

She stumbles several times over the thorny plants and uncut weeds until eventually making it to a tamer area of the trail, wrapping her arms around herself and letting out squeaky sobs. Is it just a terrible coincidence? Her dreaming about Wyatt dying then finding out his parents was murdered and he's missing? Or is there something deeper going on? She can't seem to think past the fact that her aunt and uncle are dead, or the fact that her cousin just seemingly vanished without a trace and has yet to return.

Since she's arrived here, her dreams have had a menacing, eerie atmosphere to them, though she assumed it was just the stress of everything manifesting itself into the form of something specifically created to put fear in her heart. She didn't think they meant anything more, not so much so that they invade her mind during the day, every day, without end. But... was she wrong?

How can they be gone? Just like that? Her eyebrows furrow and her eyes narrow in both incredulity and anger. And how could Dad know but not tell me? I'm his freaking daughter, for goodness sake! And they're his sister, his brother-in-law! His nephew! How could- how could he just act like nothing happened!?

A pathetic whimper escapes through her lips and she shakes her head, quickening her pace and keeping an eye out for a connecting path in particular that she and Wyatt used to take to get to the river. They used to take that path, together, when they were kids. That would never happen again. Because he's missing and probably won't ever come back.

Oh God... this means Nana and Pops are the only ones left... She sniffles and sucks in shallow, sharp breaths as she comes to this realization, slowing down absentmindedly. She was my only aunt, he was my only cousin, Marvin was my only uncle... they were my closest relatives that actually gives a crap about me.

Seeing as how her mother's parents disowned her when she was only seventeen because she got impregnated by a man who was, at the time, twenty-two, she never got to meet them and didn't hear too much about them, outside of insults and general hate. Her mom's sister, Giana, didn't visit a lot, and when she did she was always snobby and selfish, and it was apparent to Y\n that she didn't really care for her niece very much. She was clearly only after the money that Y\n's father and mom had at their grasp.

In other words, her mother's family left much to be desired. At least her dad's side of the family loves her, which is something she's beyond grateful for. But now part of them is gone. Only her grandparents remain. Does her father even care about that? Has he ever stopped and thought, 'ya know, maybe I should stop acting like a scumbag and spend time with my parents before it's too late', or 'I should be there for my sister's funeral'? Doubtful. If he did it was a mere idea that he quickly brushed aside and labeled as 'ridiculous'.

Y\n wouldn't be so angry with him had he at least let her still see them, at least a couple of times a year, maybe on holidays, but that simply isn't the case. If she had been allowed back here years ago, she would've been able to spend quality time with all of them before that horrible event occurred. But now it's too late. All thanks to her selfish jerk for a father.

She releases an infuriated scream and turns to kick the nearest tree, causing a bird that was sitting on a branch previously to fly away in alarm, likely thinking that it's under attack and wanting to get away before it gets hurt. She could care less about the winged creature at the moment though and continues to kick the tree a total of three more times before collapsing on her knees in a sobbing, shaking, and heartbroken heap.

Even if she tried, she'd be unable to keep her negative emotions to herself. But she doesn't want to. She wants to cry, cry until she can't anymore. Nobody's around, she's completely alone. What harm will it bring? Salty tears slide down her face and hit the ground with a tiny splash each time, and she leans forward and rests her forearms on the grass beneath her for some sort of stability.

She can hardly believe this information, no matter how many times it runs through her head. It seems surreal, almost like a dream. But this isn't a dream. Right? It would be amazing to wake up and find out that Marvin and Darcy were alive and well, and Wyatt was still here, living a happy life. But that scenario is very unlikely to be true. Still, she hopes. Maybe it's all in her mind. She pinches the skin on her arm and instantly winces, waiting to wake up in her bed. But she doesn't.

She crashes further to the ground and her pained wails become louder. Why them? Why some of the sweetest people in her life? Why did they have to go? Why couldn't it have been a bad person? Someone whose only goal in life is to make others suffer? Why couldn't it have been her own parents instead of Wyatt's? As terrible of a thought it sounds, she can't seem to make herself think any differently.

Who would do such a thing? Who would murder somebody with a family that they love, that loves them in return? Have they no empathy? No compassion, no remorse, whatsoever? Clearly not. A sudden snap of a twig draws her attention and she cranes her neck to the side, gazing through swollen, glassy eyes and trying to see past the trees and find whatever is the source of the noise. Seeing nothing and brushing it off as an animal or her imagination, she turns back toward the ground, attempting to gather her bearings to continue her walk in peace.

After a couple of minutes, she catches her breath, calms herself down enough to be somewhat aware of her surroundings, and leisurely rises to her feet, wiping the remainder of the tears away with the back of her arm and beginning to walk forward, once again.

She spots a familiar trail, shrouded by even more briars and thick plants, that she remembers to lead to her and Wyatt's old 'Hangout', as they used to call it, where the water is just clear enough to be considered 'clean', where a small mountain covered with boulders rests, where a large oak was planted beside the river many years ago and made the perfect place to sit and play cards, share stories, or just stare down below into the beautiful scenery and beyond.

That was the way it used to be, almost eight years ago, and that's the way she hopes it is, now. Maybe it will be just like a painting frozen in time. Maybe it hasn't changed at all. Guess I'll find out...

She struggles to swat away the plants and duck under branches, looking extra closely for low-hanging spiderwebs that happen to be in the direct path of her head. Her heart aches, there isn't a doubt about that. But below that aching, below the pain, there's anger. Pure vexation, all directed at her father. Yes, she knows he wasn't the one who killed them, but he's the one that kept her from seeing them. Perhaps she should focus all her negative energy around the actual person who caused their deaths. But she can't, not right now. The real villain, in her eyes, is the man whose self-centered personality, along with his total disregard for other peoples' feelings, made the last of her childhood and beginning and middle of her teenage years miserable.

Her mother isn't innocent in this either, with her cheating on her own husband, disacknowledging that her daughter even existed most days anymore, and overall disloyalty toward her family makes Y\n angry. Makes her strongly dislike her. But Y\n's mother had almost nothing to do with these family issues, no. Her father caused that all on his own. She's sure the only reason her mom didn't communicate with them is because he told her not to.

Y\n recalls turning to her mother for answers when she couldn't get anything out of her dad, and she only responded with, "You'll have to ask your father", or "I'm not the one you should be questioning about that". Every single time. So she stopped, after all, what's the point in asking about something if all you get is vague, useless answers in response?

She looks back when she gets the sudden feeling that she's being followed, and flinches in surprise when she meets the chestnut eyes of a fairly normal-looking boy, with messy brown hair and an innocent-looking face. He seems to be around her age, perhaps a couple of years older, and he puts his hands up in defense as if taken off-guard by her startled reaction.

He's taller than average, and she takes a cautious step back when he begins speaking. "O-oh, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." His voice is deep and has a mature sound to it, and she furrows her eyebrows in slight suspicion. Who is this guy? How long has he been there?

"Were you... following me?" Her tone holds wariness, and he sends her a friendly smile to show her he means well, though she gets the feeling that maybe it isn't as sincere as he makes it seem.

"Uh... yes? But—you don't have to get creeped out or anything, I'm not a stalker." She raises an eyebrow and takes another step back, trying to make as much distance between herself and this random person as she can in case he were to try and attack. "I just moved here and was exploring around, then I saw you walking around and figured I'd say 'hi'."

She considers his posture, his appearance, his upright demeanor, before meeting his eyes again, her muscles relaxing and deciding he seems genuine enough, though she won't let her guard down completely. She isn't extremely concerned about the way she must look to him, and he isn't commenting on it, much to her relief. "...Really? Where do you live?"

"About a mile north from here." He nods his head in that direction and sticks his hands into his hoodie pocket habitually. "My mom thought I should get out and get familiar with the area."

"And how do you like it?" She tilts her head, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. He shrugs.

"It's nice. Pretty quiet most of the time, but it's a good area to unwind, I guess." She nods in response, and he takes a step closer, something that doesn't go unnoticed by her. "What about you?"

"I'm here visiting some family while my parents are away on business." She said the term 'family' instead of 'grandparents' without even thinking about it, something that makes her chest tighten when she realizes that very thing.

"Cool. You been here before?"

"Not since I was a kid."

"How come?" She narrows her eyes up at him and her voice hardens slightly, not willing to give a stranger a lot of personal information about herself. Maybe it's the fact that she hasn't interacted much with anyone outside what was necessary for quite a while and it's making her feel overly-cautious about meeting new people, but something about this person seems strange. She can't quite put her finger on it, all she knows is that she feels weird around him.

"Family issues." There's a certain tension that begins to form between the two of them, and she shuffles on her feet uncomfortably, not sure if this guy wants to maintain some type of conversation with her. She was never the best at reading people and knowing what they were thinking. A few moments pass.

"So... where are you going?"

"Um..." She glances behind her, to the unconquered trail that she was taking before he appeared, and jabs her thumb backward to show him. "There's a river and a tree and stuff down there, I was just seeing if it's the same as I remember it being."

"I don't mean to be the annoying know-it-all, but..." He uses his eyes to signal around them in an obvious manner. "There are trees everywhere." A huff exits her nose and she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well. There is one tree there that's more special than the ones here." He chuckles lightly and nods.

"Fair enough. Mind if I tag along?" She presses her lips together after hearing this seemingly harmless request, thinking it over. "Hey, I know that face. Don't worry, I'm not gonna slaughter you or anything when we get there."

"Heh, no, I wasn't—" She runs her hand through her hair and grapples for words that won't make her seem paranoid or stupid.

"You were." He grins mischievously, walking closer to her, and she steps to the edge of the path in response, still not fully trusting of this evidently nice individual. "It's okay. Look, I'll even go first so I can't stab you in the back." She bites the inside of her cheek and watches as he passes her effortlessly and stops a few inches ahead. "You were following the trail, right?" She nods. "Then c'mon and we'll 'get familiar with the area' together."

"I'm already familiar with the area," she says, hesitantly following behind him when he starts walking.

"Okay, okay, then let me get familiar with the area and you will just... stay familiar with the area, I guess." She can't stop the amused smirk that etches itself across her face as she falls in place next to him, though keeps a fair distance between the two of them. As 'fair' as the distance can be, at least. She's content that she's found something that will hopefully distract her for a little while just so she won't have to think about the current horrors of her life. "So what's your name?"

"Y\n." She briefly meets his eyes and repeats his own inquiry. "What about you?"

"Nice to meet you, Y\n. I'm Jack."