Games (BENDrownedXReader)

Chapter Twelve-Out of Place

(Y/N)'s POV

Ben's been acting weird. This morning, he seemed to be expecting something, and was very close to me until he had to go. He isn't at the arcade and Gerald still hasn't texted me. 

I walk down the sidewalk from Fastie's, still in my uniform. I spot some posters on a lamppost, missing posters. I run up to it, the persons' faces becoming clearer and clearer. Catrina, Bethany, and Gerald. Lined up top to bottom. Information of who to call is on each poster, all to each of the teenagers' parents. Gerald's hunter finally caught him. I feel tears well up as I remember Catrina's disembodied head hanging from that tree, and the limbs askew and rotting. The blood was dry. 

I rip the posters from the lamppost and continue walking home, trying to conceal my tears from passerby. I make it to the house, seeing Mrs. Veret right by the phone and petting Soccer. He's also sitting by the phone, looking like he cares for something he's never seen before, not the phone, Bethany. He saw me break down more than once in that room, Bethany's room. This was her home, before I started talking to Ben. 

I walk into through the door, not bothering to lock it, and sit next to Mrs. Veret. I'm hiding the posters from her, just to not make it sting more than it does now. I keep having flashbacks of Mom, when I ran into the hospital the day after the fire. She was gone before I made it to the door. I hear the heart monitor's flatline as the doctors pull me from the room and throw me out. Dad wasn't there. I don't think he would recognize me if he was still alive. 

I walk to Bethany's room, looking around for that photo. I find it over her bed, BEN Drowned. She fangirled over him. She used to tell me how hot he was and that one day she'll prove that he's real. I never listened, I just blocked it out at the mention of his name. I need to think of the impossible. Who would be a suspect here? 

I dig through the bedside table until I find the copies of creepypasta photos that are already up. I take three of each and a few pins, walk out, pull the string, climb up the ladder, and start thinking of suspects. I pin every photo close or further from the posters. What did Gerald describe one of them? Pale, long limbs, but there's a face and it was running on all fours. I slowly unpin each pasta that doesn't seem to be responsible. 

I know that they aren't real, it's just that I could play with the thought for a few days. Thinking that I know who would've killed them, but it's impossible to think about it. What would Bethany do in this situation? If I was dead? She would direct her thought to creepypasta and try to pinpoint which murderer did it. I'll just do that, act like Bethany just this once. I unpin most of the photos, even Ticci Toby, Masky, and Hoodie. Catrina only has one, Rake. I just need to find Bethany's body, wherever the hell it is, and find Gerald's. 

I hear Soccer meow for him to come up, so I push the ladder down for him to climb up. He seems to be taking a glance at the posters and photos, he's just focused on me. I pet him, and he starts hissing at the window. I look over at the window, but nothing seems to be there, only a faint sound of static and Soccer's hissing and growling. I approach the window, open it, and look for whatever he's growling at. Before I can even process it, Soccer jumps out the window and lands on the ground. He seems to be waiting for me to follow him. 

I crawl out the window and climb down the tree. I walk behind him, curious on where he's leading me to. It's almost sunset, so I pick up my pace and so does Soccer. He bursts into a run, and I run next to him. 

Where is he taking me?

He stops in front of Catrina's house, her old house. She moved out years ago. He taps the front door, so I check to see if it's unlocked. It is. We walk into the dusty house, and Soccer continues to lead me to the basement. I open the door, and a rotten odor fills my nostrils the second it opens. I pinch my nose and walk down the stairs with Soccer, who doesn't seem to be bothered by the smell. He meows at the source of the smell: the corpses of a boy and a girl, Gerald and Bethany. I feel a rock grow in my throat as I stare at the bodies, flies and maggots crawling around Bethany's and wandering around Gerald's fresh body. 

Gerald is covered in burns, like the trees from the makeshift training ground. Bethany has stab wounds and seems to have fought back according to the cuts on her hands. Soccer's just staring at the corpses, not going closer or further from them. How did he even find this place? He was never here. Questions run through my mind like rollercoasters and teacups, repeating quickly and constantly. 

I feel myself shiver, not from the cold, but from the thoughts of what was done to them. Gerald seemed to have been tortured, the killer taking his sweet time to finish him off. Tears finally flow down my face, finally finding the body of Bethany felt harder than I anticipated. My best friend. She rotted here. 

I snap out of my thoughts from the creaking and the sound of footsteps upstairs.

Fuck. 

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Word Count: 970