Paintbrush slowly opened the door, checking the hallways.
'Clear'
They noted.
The Murd- Artist.. made their way to the laundry room in the basement.
They had to use the old elevator as opposed to the stairs for safety precautions.
Just then,
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They saw the shadow of the selfish jock himself behind them at the elevator.
Their breathing quickened as they felt a weird burst of.. rage. But why? He wasn't even doing anything!
They roughly slapped themself on the forehead, quickly feeling woozy from the staircase injury.
They began to topple over just as the elevator opened, but they quickly propped themself up on the railing.
"..yo, Paintbrush.. you good?"
He seemed really concerned.. but They just..
"YES! JESUS, YES IM FINE!"
They snapped at him..
He flinched. wow. The ultimate dickhead was scared of them.
Funny, huh?
They continued to lean against the wall as the elevator slowly went down.
They felt nauseous..
How long had it been again? Since..
The elevator came to a halt at the basement, stopping paintbrush in their thoughts.
They looked around, and Trophy was gone. He must've got off earlier.
They ran their and Lightbulb's aprons in the wash. It was a pity, really.
It's her turn to do the laundry..
As They glanced around the room, their gaze caught itself on two things.
Bleach, and a large tarp..
"Wait.. Wh- What am I even doing?"
They gripped strands of their long
dirty blonde hair, tugging.
They began to break out in tears..
They crawled over, slamming their head against the dryer repeatedly in an attempt to escape the nasty realization.
They were a monster...
*BANG*
They killed Two innocent people.
*BANG*
Lightbulb.. was dead by their hands alone.
*BANG*-
*Flop*..
Their unconscious body hit the hard stone floor. What a pity.
A loud shreik echoed from the upstairs floor, awaking Paintbrush with a jolt.
"MICROPHONE!!"
The familiar voice yelled,
sobbing in between words.
'Huh..?' They whimpered as they arose from the floor, dazed and bruised.
Their head was spinning..
'Why was the dryer all bloody?'
They wondered.
The Brush crawled into the elevator weakly.
"Here, I'll get that for you."
A voice rang out from behind them.
They froze..
"Lighty...?"
They turned to see a glowing figure standing before them in the elevator.
The elevator doors closed, and the figure was gone..
They held their head in their hand as they cried..
Just then, as the elevator stopped,
Oj ran in,
Dragging Paintbrush out in a hurry.
They lifted their head to see caution tape surrounding their conjoined room.
"W- where is-"
They were cut off by Oj.
"Paintbrush, is that blood on your face?
Are you hurt?!"
He hurriedly carried Paintbrush to the hotel infirmary.
There beside them, layed Microphone with various injuries.
Oj quickly checked their wounds.
"Yikes.. your head is pretty scuffed up.
You okay?"
They merely closed my eyes..
This was too much..
I must've fallen asleep.
Because I awoke in a nightmare..
YOU ARE READING
False Promise (UNSCRIPTED *FUN*FIC)
FanfictionAh, Paintbrush. Such a noticeable, likeable person! Sure, they get angry a lot, but that's not who they are. Sure, they may yell a lot, but it's not their fault! Sure, they may have (PROHIBITED) somebody, but then again, it's all just fiction. no...
