𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚊 | Nica Pierce x Reader

Pathetic Little Y/N

I start walking back and forth in my room. There's no way we're getting away with this, especially with what happened in the meeting room and the fact that I literally have blood all over my clothes.

I sit down on my bed and bite my nails, not even the picture of Nica can cheer me up. I'm too focused on the fact that I might get sent to a different facility and get separated from Nica again. Once Foley realizes that reuniting me and Nica was a 'bad idea' we are so fucked. I am so fucked.

I look at the list of names on the post it note and notice that the question mark is now crossed out. Chucky was in my room. And there's an actual name written next to it "Claire" that would've been useful when she was actually alive.

I take some more time to actually look at the list, Angela was first, Claire second, Madeleine third, Foley... 4th, Ashley 5th, and Malcolm last. Oh God, what could this fucker possibly have planned?

Footsteps coming towards my room that sound like Carlos's make me hide the little piece of paper under my pillow. I act like I was trying to fall asleep when Carlos comes into the room. I've been here for a day and I can already mesmerize his footsteps?

He looks me up and down, obviously noticing the blood splattered on my pants and all over my shoes.

"Hey, uhm. Foley... another session." Oh, great. Like that's exactly what I need right now when I'm freaking out because a fucking supernaturally possessed doll is about to kill everyone in this fucking facility.

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Carlos walks me through the halls with his arm around my shoulder. No cuffs, surprisingly. He seems to have gotten comfortable with me, kinda. I mean I'm not complaining as long as I'm not getting shocked every 5 seconds I'm fine.

That's all about to change though because as soon as I walk into Foley's office and see the remote on his desk my neck gets cold. It's like it's preparing to get beat the shit out of.

Carlos slightly nudges me inside before walking out and shutting the door. He slid something in my pocket but I barely felt it.

"Lock the door." That's weird. Why would we need to lock the door? Is he not afraid I'm gonna like kill him? That's literally the reason I'm here, because he thinks I killed people.

I lock the door and take a seat, the usual. Except this time, it wasn't the usual. He has a clipboard on his desk and I could see my name on the file or whatever you call it. It's like he's getting ready to ask me questions and about to take notes on how I answer the questions.

"Now, I'm gonna ask you a few questions." Called it. Watch, now he's gonna tell me that he wants me to answer them honestly and to not think about it too much.

"I want you to answer these questions honestly and just let your mouth say what it wants to say because that's usually the truth."

"Oh, that's easy. Okay, first of all, I think you're a fucking creepy looking ass grey hair ass redneck mustache looking—"

"I didn't ask any questions yet."

"Let the mouth say what it wants to say." I lean back and watch him write something that I think I might be able to work out.

"Fresh" He wrote. Okay 3rd grade substitute, go off. When he's done writing other words that I have no idea what the fuck they mean, he slightly looks up and I already know he's about to ask me about the blood.

"So, you've heard of Angela's death. Correct?"

"Well no shit. I was literally one of the first ones to see it."