Platonic Yandere BatFamily x Child Reader

[I-I]

Act I- Scene I: "She Lied on the Floor of her Deathbed"

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    I knew from the second I sat up, three different things were true.
1.) I was an academic scholar
2.) I was definitely not in my room
and
3.) I was now stuck in the body of an 8 year old girl

    I was hoping that my situation would be a lot less bleak than it truly was, but sitting on this bed made me realize that this probably isn't some weird fever dream. I was stuck in the body of an underdeveloped girl, which already proved to be clumsy and useless when I tried sliding off the bed (my foot had gotten tangled in the sheets and I ended up hitting my head on the floor). If it weren't for whoever had been sanding down the wooden floor, I probably would've had splinters in my back.

    I tried sitting myself upright, attempting to dust the soot from the floor off of my body as I got my bearings to look around. 'I should take this time to look around and— never mind, there's barely anything in here anyways.'
The room itself was small, definitely not the big room that I used as my personal study back home. There were no bookshelves or papers messily lying around, waiting to get picked up. It was rather desolate and reminded me of Pitcairn Island (one of the most isolated places on Earth). The only thing this room had was a black cheval mirror, a tiny walk-in closet, and a twin sized bed. 'Whoever this little girl used to be, must've been part of a working class family...'

    When I walked by the mirror, I inspected my new reflection wearing a silk gown that hung vaguely below my knees. Typically, I wouldn't wear such frilly things to bed, but it surprisingly fit her– er, me quite well. It was strange though, she looked fairly similar to my former self, but this time my face was rounder and my body was smaller. Just as it did when I was younger, although this obviously wasn't me. It was hard to imagine, but there's a slight chance that I was either reincarnated (even though I didn't die) or brought here from a completely different timeline, somewhat like an alternate universe. Perhaps it was the work of a wormhole...? 'Nah– that's just ridiculous, besides wormholes don't just sweep you up in the middle of the night to spit you out into a little girl's bedroom.'
I hung my head as I sighed into my dwarfed palms. 'This is getting me nowhere.' If I wanted to figure out where I was, I was going to have to look around to find the answer. Since there was nothing else to further gauge in the room, I took it upon myself to see if the only door providing an exit would open. With a careful reach and an even lighter pull, I twisted the brass knob. The door grinded against its hinges causing it to shriek as it opened.
I kept the door slightly ajar to peer out into the doorway. Besides the door being open, no movement or noise was made from the rest of the house– building– apartment? Wherever I was...

    The hallway was dimmed and vacant and the diluted yellow walls were vitalized with one large family portrait. Cartes de visite would be the correct French term for the hanging canvas. It depicted the little girl and an older woman, presumably her grandmother. No father, no mother, or siblings. It was quite strikingly picturesque really, but it was somewhat quaint– primordial even and sort of reminded me of myself. The curling paint had become flakey over time, and the frame was a dingy gilded color. It was irrefutably left in a grim condition, most likely abandoned to sit for all of eternity.
The foyer continued on until it stopped at a final door. It didn't look locked, but it did look untouched. Almost as if no one had gone in or come out for some time.
'Exploring would honestly be the best option, but without knowing who or what was on the other side could prove to be dangerous– yet at the same time, there hadn't been a single bout of noise since I woke up.' My mind was trapped between two choices, 'search now or search later.' Though the more I thought about it, the safest choice would be to find some sort of weapon before going inside. 'A baseball bat, maybe a knife?'
I obviously wasn't planning on using it unless if opening that door turns into a 'worst-case-scenario' type thing. After All, it was the only pragmatic thing to do, especially when I had no actual clue as to where I was and how to get home.
I traced my steps back down the opposite end of the hallway where I originally came from, and made a left turn. From the looks of the layout, everything was on one floor. Meaning that I was either in a really small house, or a room in an apartment building. The kitchen and living room were small, making everything look cramped. The couch was too close to the TV, and the rubber plant in the corner of the room was practically merged with the coffee table. It didn't look bad, per se, but like it was too much. 'Forget that— I need to focus on finding a weapon.'

    My first thought was searching in the kitchen, where there's usually always sharp objects lying around. As my feet came in contact with the cold checkered tiles, my hands started searching. Counters, drawers, cabinets— there was nothing, well, at least nowhere near the stuff I could reach. If it weren't for the impending fact that I was evidently short, I would have been able to reach the cabinets that were further up. Though, I've really gotta ask, 'Who the hell keeps their knives in a cabinet?' Whose ever's stupid idea it was to keep them there instead of a drawer, understandably was not thinking with their noggin. So, instead, I'd have to think with mine.

    Before I walked in, I had already noticed a chair sitting near a small table in the opposite corner, which was most likely used for dining. That chair would be my best bet for trying to find myself a way up. The only issuance, was my current disadvantage— my height, and because I'm relatively sure most juveniles aren't going around and picking up random chairs to look for sharp objects.
Regardless, I grabbed the chair by its legs and tried my best to keep it steady as I hobbled back into the kitchen. When I knew that the cabinet was right above me, I placed the chair down as gently as I could without having the legs drop on my feet.
I climbed up, carefully placing my shaky legs on the seat of the chair as my arms reached up for the cabinet handles and pulled it open. My newest problem now was that there were no knives. 'Are you fucking kidding me, who the hell doesn't have knives in their kitchen!?' Not only was grabbing the chair a waste of time, but now I have to find something else to try and protect myself. 'Great, just great.'
'The only other place that I would have thought to look was the bathroom, which was right near the kitchen's entrance. When I walked in, I was relieved by the fact that it wasn't a complete mess. 'Hopefully, I'll be able to find something here.' I quickly opened up the cabinet sink and spotted something in the far corner to the back. 'Well, it's not really conventional, but it's the only option I have.' My hand reached inside to grab a curling iron. 'I might just be able to beat someone upside the head with it.'

    After closing everything behind me, I crept back down the hall to the door from earlier. Nothing had changed since I last checked on it, the door wasn't magically open or touched. With each sly step, I had gotten closer to the door. It almost seemed to whisper, "Don't come near me.", and I really wouldn't have, if it weren't for the fact that I was desperate for answers. When the door was within a foot of me, I took a much needed sigh before holding my breath and ushering in.
It was dark. The lights had been flipped off and I couldn't see the light switch. When I succeeded in aimlessly flicking on the light, I could feel my face grow pale. Part of me wished I hadn't opened the door, but in just mere seconds I was finally able to understand why everything was so quiet— why no movement could be heard even though it was clear this girl hadn't lived alone.
At the foot of the bed, directly on the floor, layed the carcass of a motionless old woman. Her eyes were leaden and murky, like she had been drowned and left at the bottom of a swamp. They looked as if they had popped. It was clear her body was undergoing decay and the pulmonary edema from her lungs had begun to leak from her mouth. 'Dear god—', the smell had been the worst of it. A repugnant concoction of rotting flesh and bile. It was substantially clear that the body had been like this for at least seventy-two hours before it began to decompose. Everything was a mess. The bed sheets were thrown, stretching in odd ways and a few belongings had been knocked over onto the floor. This most likely happened while she was asleep and tried to get out of bed while choking on her own fluids. She also appeared to have fallen by the way her ankle was twisted in an odd direction.

    It was safe to say that I didn't need a weapon like I thought I would've, though this still is the cause for some issues. Since I'm not strong enough to carry a body— let alone hide one, I'll have to try panning for luck somewhere else. Guilt will definitely eat away at me for this, but I don't have a choice. Besides, she died before I even came along and staying will only cause more difficulty for me if I want to find a way to survive here. Besides, there's no way in hell I'm about to be thrown into a foster care system when I just got here.
I knew I was going to have to leave, so, without much delay, I took the next forty-five minutes to start packing some of their belongings into a bag. 'Hopefully Grandma left some money behind...'

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