A Diane Sherman story
Y/n is a normal 14 year old girl enjoying summer break. But when her parents go on a vacation and leave her with a sitter, things start to spiral out of control.
TW: injections, drugs, stalking, obsession
After Diane leaves, I just sit on the bed and think about what's happened in the last 24 hours. I learned my babysitter's a psycho, I ran away, she shot (and probably killed) a policeman, chased me through the police station, drugged me, and then brought me to her house. And here I was hoping to have a calm summer.
For the next couple of minutes, I look for anything to break the handcuffs, but I don't see anything. I try one last time to tug on them, but it doesn't budge.
I sigh and turn around to grab a book on the shelf that Diane mentioned earlier. I might as well read. I might get an idea of how to escape from here. I scan over the titles and slowly realize that these are all of the books I have at home. Huh? Did she bring all of them here? She couldn't have, that's too much work. I pull out the book Shatter Me and flip it open to the inside cover. Expecting to see my name in the middle, I'm shocked to see that it's blank. I open book after book, and none of them have my name written on them.
When I pull out The Catcher in the Rye, I realize that this is not the worn copy Grandpa gave. This is a new book. I inspect the pile of books surrounding me. These are all new books.
I'm about to take out The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, but freeze when I see my kindergarten self in a framed photo. That used to be on the mantel in the living room. Upon further inspection, I realize that Grace must have been cut out of the photo. I snatch up the picture and run my fingers over the frame. This isn't the original frame. I flip it over and take out the photo. Instead of the date written in Dad's sloppy handwriting on the back, I see pretty penmanship that reads, 'y/n's first day of school, 6 years old, Seattle Primary School.' Well shit. I don't think Diane has only known me for 3 weeks.
I look up at the wall and see a Nirvana poster. I know it's not mine because there isn't a small tear in the corner.
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Did Diane buy new things for me? I know she hasn't been in my room long enough to see every single one of my books, so either I was knocked out for a long time or she already had these in her room...but that's unlikely.
I'm getting drowsy and the room starts to spin a little bit. Damn, I bet she put something in the soup. I should have known not to trust her. I lie back down and prepare myself for falling asleep. Before my consciousness fades, I think of the question that itches in the back of my mind. How long has Diane Sherman known me?
A/n - super short because I'm kinda running out of ideas :/ but I'm going to keep trying to come up with new content that hasn't been seen in other Diane stories
