Author: Roodle | koushiii-
Genre: Psychological
Language: English
Warnings: r pe, implied PTSD, implied murder and torture
—
when did it all start? no one knows.
it was only a bunch of occurrences, small memories, gut feeling, shivers, that all piled up into a giant monster in front of them. it was made up of hunches, deja vus, and the drifting feeling of nostalgia from unusual places and events. weird nightmares, familiar touches, late night pondering, and beating oneself up. was it when they experienced a trauma that felt oddly familiar? was it from the blank memories and missing childhood?
no one knows.
what they do know is it's all coming back to them.
this certain bed them were pinned onto as a kid, they're remembering the way they struggled against it.
the certain hand that covered their mouth as the tried to scream for help, they remember the feeling of his callouses roughly gripping on their soft lips.
the voice that whispered harshly and told them everything's going to be alright, they remember the way his teeth would bite and scrape on their earlobes.
the remember everything: the sensations, the feeling, the touch— everything.
they sat on the same room it happened, on the exact bedside table with the ropes he used to tie them up and take their innocence away.
they looked softly at the old creaky room, it was covered in dust and spiders, obviously not used for a long time. they let their fingers gently glide on the wall made out of old and weathered wooden planks, their fingertips collecting dust as it goes.
they knew it was so familiar, too familiar.
how could they be so stupid and ignore the signs.
it was a fairly simple house, more like a shack pretending to be one. it's isolated but not too suspiciously since they're on the rural side of the country.
no one would even give it a second glance, but they did.
and they're glad they did.
snapping out of their thoughts, they lifted their hands off the filthy walls and looked around the room.
it's small inside, only enough to be a studio house for one.
it has a dark wooden chair and a small dark wooden table, both very weak and withered. it's also probably not safe to use due to the amount of termite holes all around the two furniture items.
they remember eating with him here, all the time. he would offer them bread he bought from the market and a mug of hot chocolate while they excitedly talk about the bug they found on the spring near their house.
and then, he would smile back with the same excitement they radiate.
how naive.
they scoffed at their owm memories and walked away from the table.
next was an acacia cabinet, taller than them and doesn't look as withered as the other furnitures. they grabbed onto the rusty handles and forced it open, only to see nothing in it but bugs and spiderwebs.
it used to be so full clothes and memorabilias. photos they used to take together with his old polaroid camera he got from his teenage years. they would listen carefully about his stories and look at his photos with awe.
they then would beam at him and say " i wanna be like you when i grow up! "
disgusting.
they closed the door, turned on their hills and walked away.
and then the bed, the faithful bed where it all happened.
when the boogeyman found the poor child onto his trap, he attacked and ate them up until they were nothing but an empty vessel.
the mattress is worn out and flakey, and the white bedsheets covering it is more yellow than it is white.
but that doesn't matter.
what matters more is the red staining it. the fresh blood dripping from the covers, and making a small puddle on the filthy, concrete floor.
what matters more are the ropes, the same ropes that binded them, that are again tied to the same bedposts as before.
and what matters more is the mutilated dead body of the boogeyman that is now binded by the said ropes, on the same bed their life was ruined.
because they refuse to be the victim again.
