Roblox DOORS x GN! Reader

A Peek Into The Past

TW: Physical and mental abuse, trauma

Idea credits go to angelina_starina

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SEEK'S POV:
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I was surprised, to say the least. I never heard the player shout before, aside from the first 4 or so times I chased them.  I looked down at them, and they were on the verge of crying. Shit.

Suddenly, they went limp in my arms. Completely limp. And they felt as if they weren't breathing. I quickly set them down and shook them, the others gathering around, even Ambush even though he looks as if he fell off of a cliff face-first.

I didn't see their chest rising or falling.

"PLAYER!"
"Are they dead!?"
"Shit, shit, shit, shit..."
"SOMEONE CHECK IF THEY HAVE A PULSE!"

The others screamed, but I ignored them. I pulled the player close to me and put my fingers on their neck. At a certain spot, I felt a pulse, and sighed in relief. "They're alive. They have a pulse. But I don't know what caused them to faint.."

Figure gently picked up the player, cradling them as if they were made of glass. Figure spoke in a hushed tone, "Let's try to find a place to set them... Preferably a room with a bed."

Rush was crashing through the door to the next room before Figure even finished their sentence. I heard them shout, "Luckily for us, this room has hotel rooms! Come set them down somewhere!"

We all shuffled in, letting Figure go first because they have Player. I opened a hotel room door and tapped my foot on the ground for Figure to follow me. I walked loudly so they'd know where I am, and walked over to the bed. I kept tapping my shoe against the wooden floor until Figure was at the bedside.

Figure gently set them onto the bed. I didn't know any medical stuff, so I assume none of us did. I crawled onto the bed and positioned the Player's head on my lap. I stared at them, worried. Eyes sat next to me and grabbed the players hand, gently rubbing it. I wanted to push them away, but I knew that starting a fight was useless at the moment.

Plus, the player is on me. I don't want to risk injuring them while their unconscious.

I looked up and saw Figure sitting on the edge of the bed. Halt was pacing back and forth, nervously biting her nails. Ambush pulled a bandage out of a drawer and it molded into something random, then he started tending to his wounds. I looked up and saw Screech resting on the ceiling, staring at the player. I sighed and was about to start scanning them for scars before  I stopped.

What if they were uncomfortable with this? Even if they're unconscious, I don't wanna look them over without consent. So I opted for just resting my hand on their head.

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Y/N'S POV:
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I saw nothing. Darkness. A void. Then, slowly, the darkness faded into my bedroom. My childhood bedroom. The bedroom that I came to love yet hate. It was my safe zone, yet I got ever so hurt in it so many times for trying to hide in it.

I sat up. I'm on my bed? Is this a dream? I pinched myself, and felt nothing. But I bet it's not a dream. I didn't fall asleep before coming here. I looked down and realized that I was in a plain t-shirt and jeans. I was smaller. I was a kid again.

...

If this is exactly what I think this is, I want out. I want back into the hotel. Suddenly, I heard someone shout from somewhere in a gruff voice, "Y/N! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!"

Y/N? That sounds familiar... Oddly familiar. As if my body is on autopilot, I get up and walk downstairs. The floor is littered with trash. Mostly bottles and cans. I look up and see a man sitting in front of a TV. My step-father. Again, my body speaks without me wanting it to. Am I reliving a memory? Maybe. I am getting a sense of Deja Vu, after all.

"Yes, f-.. sir?" My voice is high and cracked. It's traumatized.

Without looking at me, he hold out the crushed can. My body walks forward and grabs it quickly. "Get me another beer. Pour  it into my favorite glass. Also, I want ice. Got it? If you don't do that, your face will be a lot more bruised when you go to bed." I am suddenly aware of the slight aching in my face. I nodded and hurriedly walk into the kitchen. It's dim in here. It's maybe around 11 PM.

I just relax, letting my body do whatever it wants to. It grabs a specific glass and grabs another can of beer from the fridge. I pour it into the glass and add ice from the freezer. Once I'm done, I quickly walk back and hand the glass to my step-father. Without even a thank you, he simply waves his hand and I walk away. I'm cut short by a woman yelling. My body drags me to the source of the voice. A woman with shaggy, messy, shoulder-length H/C hair is standing beside a sink full of ice and water.

I walk towards her. She points to a mirror in front of the sink. I look at it, and my eyes widen at my appearance.

Dull E/C eyes. My H/C hair is messy. Bruises and scars litter my face. Some spots are swelled up. I look disgusting. The woman's face is unchanged. My mother. My biological mother. She leans down to my level and stares into the mirror. Her voice is raspy and hoarse when she speaks, "You see all of that swelling and bruising?" She picks me up by the back of my shirt with obvious struggle and slides a stool under my feet before setting me back down. "That won't do, will it? If anyone sees you with all of those bruises and cuts and swelling, they'll question me. And you know I hate questions. Right, Y/N?"

My body nods... Is that my name? Y/N? Is that why it sounded so familiar? Y/N. That's me. That's my name. My name isn't Player. It's Y/N.

She suddenly stands up and grabs my hair roughly (If you're bald, she just shoves your head), shoving my head down into the freezing water. I immediately start to struggle, not having much air. After a few seconds, she pulls my head out and I gulp in heaps of air. "We need to get that swelling down. You're not going anywhere until it does."

She kept dunking my head in the water, each time I struggled. At one point, I guess I scratched her or something, because she pulled my head out and threw me down.

It hurt. It really did. Every hit. Every kick. I felt tears run down my face.

Then I blinked and I was standing in the doorway leading to my bedroom. I was pushed through the door. I landed on the ground and turned over. My entire body hurt and ached. I saw my mother standing in the doorway. "You are not my child. You're a disappointment. A freak. A waste of space. I hope you don't wake up tonight, Y/N." Then she slammed the door. I simply stared up at the ceiling. I didn't want to move. It hurt too much.

Then I fell asleep.

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I'm so damn tired...