→ ฬђєгє เร ๓ץ ๓เภ๔? → norman x reader

18. it's just unfixable; i can fix it

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'ʀᴜɴ, ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴀʙʙɪᴛꜱ ʀᴜɴ,' ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪꜱᴀʙᴇʟʟᴀ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʀᴀʏ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀɪʀꜱ. The line is from a storybook that Isabella remembers reading to you, Ray, Emma, and Norman. It was a night book, meant to help little children fall asleep. Little children scared of monsters under their beds (unware of the ones beyond the gates), little children who would eventually fall asleep and dream of growing up. The only place where they would.

The book is gone and in the trash, Isabella remembers scolding you for spilling orange juice all over it. The once pretty pictures of a happy family of rabbits playing in fields of wildflowers warped and destroyed. The orange juice causing the bright colors to mesh and darken, making the smiling faces of the rabbits looked melted. The pages ended up sticking together, one couldn't open the book without ripping pages.

When you spilled the orange juice on the book you just stood there, watching the drink seep into it, not bothering to attempt to clean it up.

Ray yelled at you for being clumsy, you told him to shut up.

Emma cried a little because she loved the book, you said sorry.

Norman sighed, disappointed that you didn't try and fix it, you didn't say anything.

It's not your fault, it was just unfixable. That's just how it was.

And when Isabella had to talk to you, a little six year-old-girl about paying attention to her surroundings and being mindful of how you made the others feel you said:

"Stop being mad... you hated it too."

Isabella did hate the book and hated that she had to read it over and over and over again. She didn't realize you did. Every time the book was requested by either Ray, Emma, or Norman you would just sit there and listen.

And at the time Isabella only smiled and asked, "I don't know what you mean."

In which you looked up at her with your e/c eyes and said, "Yeah. Okay."

To this day, as she walks up the stairs, ready to commence her plan: to simply make you all give up, she has no idea why you didn't like the book. And she wonders if the orange juice spilling was really an accident.

"I got rid of her," Isabella states, a calm smile settled on her face.

Letting out a small gasp Ray turns to her, "Huh?"

"I removed Krone from the equation." 

Ray rushes up the rest of the stairs, sharply turning the corner and shoving the door open, causing it the crash into the wall. 

An empty dark room, as if Sister Krone was never there.

Ray steps inside, staring into the dark room. Isabella follows his steps, just behind him, somehow casting a dark shadow over him in the darkness.

Mom leans down and puts her hands on her son's shoulders, sending chills through the boy who inherited her brains and porcelain skin. 

"I got rid of her... because I didn't need her."

Ray doesn't bother looking behind at Mom, he doesn't need to, he already knows that her smile is no longer one of a mother, it's the smirk of an executioner. His mother, the sender away of children, children who go away forever, takes her hands off him allowing him to slowly face her.

Mom looks down at him. And he knows what he's about to hear.

"And you're next."

Somehow, a shaky, "W-... what??", stumbles out of his mouth.