Fabulous Creepypastas.

Clockwork (Your time is up).

A little girl sat in her room, her mess brown hair were put into little pigtails as her hazel eyes stared at the door.

She hugged her stuffed Giraffe close to her little body, and listened closely to the loud yells of her Mother and Father.

"I never should've had any damn kids!" Screamed a loud, deep voice.

"All they do is make a mess, complain, draw on the walls-" He was cut off by the high pitched, angered yell of the girls Mother.

"They are children, David! They don't know any better!"

"Oh, fuck me, Marybeth! I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses! I've had just about enough with them!"

"And what do you plan to do about it?!"

The girl heard loud footsteps making their way towards her room, and she hugged her giraffe even closer.

The door was violently pushed open, and there in the doorway stood her large, angry, overweight father, carrying a large textbook in one of his meaty hands

.

"David, stop it!" Screamed her mother.

Davis ignored his wife's pleading cries. He grabbed the little girl by the collar causing her to scream and kick furiously while trembling and shaking with fear. The girls father harshly held up the textbook.

"This is for drawing on my fucking walls, you little bitch!"

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Years later, the little girl, known as Natalie, was now 9 years old. She was naturally a little on the chubby side. Like usual, she sat in her room, eyes glued to the television screen. Her dad was ranting on about some economical crap that she really didn't give a shit about, as she munched on her popcorn.

She was also currently drawing a picture. There was a bit of gore in it, but strangely, she really liked drawing gorey things like blood. It gave her a weird sense of satisfaction. Other than that, multitasking was no problem for her. It became apparent to her at a young age, after having to do so much hard work and labour, that she was able to do so many things at once. Drawing ended up being her talent and passion. It was her way from escaping her reality, whenever something bad would rear its ugly head and peer in, or when she was simply bored, she would just draw.

She suddenly heard the closing of her door, and looked to her left, pausing from munching on her popcorn. There stood her older brother, Lucas, who was 14 years old.

"What is it?" She could still hear her father yelling outside her door. "Dad scaring you?" He let out a chuckle.

"No way. I think we're both used to his yelling by now." There was a long pause. "So, why are you in here?" He seemed to play with his sleeves slightly, twitching while doing so.

"I have to ask you something." He focused on her.