Ghostface's Girl ~ Ghostface x reader

⊱ 9- The Backstory of a Lifetime ⊰

TW: LOTS OF MENTIONS OF ABUSE AND SELF HARM, CONTINUE WITH CAUTION 

Killing people. It's almost like a sport to me, people ask why I do it, and all I say is that it's fun. 

I'm Danny Johnson. That's my real name, this is kind of a confession thing that I'm writing so if anyone finds it they know all my secrets. I'm writing this to give to someone in case I ever get caught. Trust me, I don't ever plan on getting caught, but it's never a bad idea to have a backup plan. 

I like killing people. 

No, I love killing people. 

There, I said it. You might call me crazy or psychotic for it, but it's just how I am.  I'm okay with being crazy. All of my life I've been called crazy, I mean I can see why but even before I ever harmed anyone or did anything remotely crazy, I was called crazy. I guess it's a reason why I turned crazy. 

Therapy never really worked on me, I've had multiple therapists and none of them could reach me. Maybe I was too far gone, or maybe it was because of how I was raised. I've never really had a super strong attachment to anyone, besides my brother. He was the only person I've truly loved. My parents were toxic sons of bitches who only really cared about themselves. My father was okay, he somewhat cared for my brother and me but that all changed when my brother died. 

My mother on the other hand never gave a damn about either of us, she drank and smoked during both pregnancies, and I did almost die at birth due to being so underweight. But I was a fighter even back then. 

 My brother was three years older than me, he cared for me so much. In elementary school, in second grade, my parents were never home. My father was usually working overtime at his desk job, while my mother was doing whatever the fuck she did. All I knew is that she barely was home, which was better than when she was, she was such a bitch. My brother cooked for me almost every day, except Fridays. My dad would bring us McDonald's on Fridays. That was the only "family time" we ever had together. 

I think the only reason my mother lived with us was that my father felt bad for her. He told us he loved her, but it was more of a pity love than anything. Her name was Kathrine Tybolt before she married my father, Harry Johnson.  They fell in love in high school, she got pregnant her senior year. She was devastated. She acted like it was the end of the world. She tried to get rid of it in the ways she knew, drugs and alcohol. Too bad for her she still had the kid, Tristan Johnson. Then three years later she got pregnant with another little bastard. Me. 

Daniel Johnson, little Danny. My dad had always wanted kids of his own and he got two of them. The only problem is he couldn't pay for them. My mother would waste all of our money doing stupid shit. She might be the reason I target druggies and alcoholics. I've never really thought of that until now, I mean the last few people I've killed have been a little decent but they still weren't the best people. I mean I think I'm a sociopath. The things I do I don't think of as wrong. I mean, I know that society views it as wrong but for some reason, I don't. 

I was always an odd kid, not really into the classic car toys or dolls, but more adult things. I would watch the news and read newspapers. I would cut out things I like and paste them on my walls. I would read all of the unsolved murder cases and try to piece them together myself and figure out who did it. If I weren't so messed up I would have been a damn good detective.

 During summers when we were kids, my brother would set up mysteries for me to solve. He would act like he was some police officer asking me to solve it for him. He was the best. I loved him so much. 

I was pretty aggressive through middle and high school. I would get into fights and get beaten up constantly. My brother would get so mad at me if I came home with even a scratch. He and I went to the same school but he was three years older than me so we didn't see each other often. He was popular too, way too popular for me. He did get me into the newspaper club, I helped write the school paper. Nothing we wrote was really interesting though. It was pretty bland, I would normally write events that were coming up.