Lens Cap || Slenderverse Reader Insert || SpiritPasta-Verse

Chapter Six; Twin-Size Mattress

CW; swearing, syringes/needles, implications of child 4bu$3 (in a lab/hospital-based building), flashbacks/hallucinations, laboratory, violence, HEAVY BLOOD AND GORE ALONG WITH CANNIBALISM. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

A/N; title based off of the song from the Front Bottoms!!

"It's no big surprise you turned out this way, when they closed their eyes and prayed you would change."

  Pikett opened his eyes slowly. He felt different. It was the bad kind of different. He couldn't remember much. Last he recalled was standing in an unfamiliar kitchen with Y/N. Y/N didn't like the chocolate chip cookie they were eating. He doesn't remember what happened after. He just remembers that and now he's awake in a dark place. Where is he? It's so cold. So very cold.

 He wanted to get out of the dark, cold, empty space. He wanted to find a way out. But there was nothing there other than silence and the dark. He wished, almost begged, for anything to appear. Something to fill up the empty, silent space. Something to make a sound for him to hear. Something for him to see. Something for him to touch. Anything. The silence and the lack of sight was enough to drive him crazy.

 Suddenly, he blinked and a wooden desk showed up. It was painted white and had drawers in it, along with a small wooden box that mimicked a cabinet on top of it, the door of the compartment made of glass, tinted a blueish color. Glad to finally disrupt the void, Pikett spared no hesitation in going over to the strange desk. His hand brushed against the surface, putting a grey sheen of dust on his fingertips and showing the gloss of the sleek wood beneath the soot. He recognized this cabinet so vibrantly, as if he'd seen it thousands of times before. He had seen it thousands of times before. He could sit down and explain everything about it, what he put inside it, what type of floor it was on, where it was in the room, but he could not tried what room it was in or where that room was. It danced on the tip of his tongue, itching to tumble out, yet crawled back away when he tried to grasp it tight enough to be coherent. The memory stayed buried, forcibly beneath the ground and hidden amongst the environment by his subconscious.

 He brushed his hand against the glass door of the cabinet, flinching away at its cold exterior before slowly resting his entire palm against the tinted glass. He could almost feel the delicate material cracking against his hand, if he focused on it enough.

 "Pikett, you know you shouldn't be awake at this hour, you've got school in the morning!" a voice from the hallway echoed.

 The red numbers of the electric clock on the nightstand read twelve-o-three, the soft glow of its light reflecting off the metal of the lamp to its side. A pointy-eared adolescent stared into his mirror, breaths getting quicker and morphing into sobs as his blue-grey eyes met themselves. Staring at the polka-dot pattern on his pajamas, flashes in his mind of hospital gowns and metal chains forced themselves into the front of his head, burning his retinas with blinding white tile and the buzz of tube lights as he stared at what may have almost been a smaller version of himself. 

With a noise almost similar to a distressed snarl, his right hand balled itself into a fist and he thrust it into the glass, shattering the mirror and bloodying his knuckles. Shards of the fragile substance clattered into the carpet as a petite woman with brown, almost black hair that reached slightly below her shoulders burst in the room with alarm, both individuals' blue eyes locking, both filled with tears and both filled with fear.

  Pikett quickly retracted contact from the tinted glass as he felt a sharp pain strike his palm, turning his hand over to see dark red pooling from a cut and spreading across his hand. Eyes darting to the cabinet, he found that the glass had shattered, piling up on the inside of the compartment and mocking him with its sleek, sharp appearance. Pikett frowned. He didn't like the glass. He glared at the cabinet for a moment longer before the shards suddenly...disappeared. As he stared at the wound on his hand that was dripping with blood, he saw it start to form into an odd symbol. It was a mixture of lines that he couldn't fully comprehend due to his extreme concern at its mere existence. Blood was not supposed to make complex shapes like that. He went to wipe it off with part of his sleeve, but winced as the fabric made contact.