-𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑟- Raggedy Andy x reader

Anguish [ I ]

As she, the stuffed doll, stared endlessly into the bookshelf’s legs, her worn-out mind begun formulating more troubling questions. She didn’t know what else to feel, to perceive the world as.
Had it always been this… dull...? So unmistakably grey, painless; yet full of suffering?

Was her vision starting to rot, just like the filth played across her; or, was her (in)sanity helping her get a grip on the real her, the world, The Bedroom, the tiles she sat upon?

If so,
where?

Where was the small river-teared kid she knew, oh so well? Was anguish taking control? Who was she?

Where was her little girl?

Out there, playing away with a wooden button?
Fiddling with her tight blouse, maybe?
She was never the one with big words.
She probably didn’t even know what the word “unconditional” meant yet.

Alas, she, the doll, was happy.
Happy that she stained her fabric hands to provide and look for a good, welcoming place.
Even if she, herself, couldn’t enjoy it.

And it all happened because of that one tiny, quick, yet twisted, and yet innocent occurrence.
The Incident, when the Big Mother came in, relieving the child’s quarters of its constant, flying dust.
And fate —if it even could be interpreted as that— chose the painful and heavy-weighted option of placing her legs, the doll’s legs, in the same place where the Big Mother would position the big classical bookshelf.

The big, and heavy, classical bookshelf.

But she was denied screaming. She couldn't move, since they were still there. Big Mother kept watching the room and cleaned away the cobwebs a lone spider had built.
No relief, no consolation; they were all denied for her.
She held no sin, yet the doll was punished. It was all her fault.
It was the lonely doll’s fault.
She made this happen.
But it was not in her favor.
Had it ever been?

And as she remembered The Incident, she cried.
The one incident that made her unable to see her petite child again.

And as she remembered, he woke up.

(…)

And as she remembered, he woke up.

If Andy could describe what he felt, he would have opened his eyes immediately after experiencing such a bizarre nightmare.

But he was afraid.
Afraid of opening his eyes only to see a giant bookshelf hover over him.
So he stayed silent, not daring to flinch.
Scared.
Yet, he was being irrational. That wouldn’t happen, and he knew it. So he slowly opened his right eye, boring into the room.
No signs of furniture being placed on his legs.

Good.

He let out a sigh he didn’t even know he was holding and stood up after closer examination.
Had he ever felt so desperate, in a way, after a nightmare?
He couldn’t just keep such a deep hole in his chest; he had to tell someone about the horrible dream he had woken up to.

Ann?

Ann.

He pondered a bit on the fact of telling her or not. She would not have wanted to experience such a livid nightmare.
Yet he ran, searching for his dear red-haired sister.

"Ann? Where are you...?" He asked outloud, stopping by Marcella's bedside table.

"Are you asking for me, Andrew?" A new,  playful voice responded.

"There you are!" He said, frantically running up to her and hugging his sister.

"What's wrong? You sound and look troubled! Did you hit your head on something?"

"No, no. It's nothing like that, I just need to tell you about the nightmare I had. It felt so... Real! I'm a tough boy, but I was  terrified either way."

"That sounds terrible! But, why'd you decide on telling me only?" Pondered the ragdoll girl, placing a finger on her lip in confusion.

"Well, it's mainly because it's still late, and I knew you would still be up; but it's also because I didn't want to worry anyone." Admitted Andy.

"Oh, you sweet thing! And don't worry, you can tell me aaaaall about this bad dream of yours, but first, let's go and sit in the windowsill. We'll be comfier." Beamed Ann, while doing various hand gestures to express the dragged on "all".

Andy didn't respond, he just smiled at his sister's joyful personality, and followed her up to the room's window.

And as he enjoyed her silly, childish jokes, he saw it.