A BLOODY GOOD TIME // Creepypasta x Fem. Reader

Chapter 9 - Baby It's Cold Outside

(A/N - I drew EJ! It was my first attempt at doing anything without lineart, so hopefully it looks good :) Also, I want to mention that I imagine EJ post-transformation has like hooved anthro legs. I don't know why, I just always felt like it made sense? So I'm gonna write that as a thing. Yes, I know it's not canon, but I think it's really cool, soooooo... y e a h. Enjoy!)

You lifted your head up from the concrete bench and groaned. Your neck was sore, and you felt groggy and cold. A headache was steadily making its way into your brain. It was, admittedly, partially your fault for falling asleep in the cold rain on cold concrete, God only knows how many bugs there were around that had ended up crawling on you.

Of course, hindsight was 20/20 and all that stuff. But you certainly needed the rest, and it was far more peaceful than anything else that had happened lately. What was bothering you was that you couldn't see two feet ahead of you. You were still in the mall - you knew that for sure - but it was pitch black.

You felt your phone laying next to you, and you clicked it on. The screen almost blinded you.

After letting your eyes adjust for a short moment, you looked at the clock.

12:30 am.

Shit, was it really half past midnight? Fuck. You needed to get back to your cats. They were still at the daycare. And though admittedly they kept pets as long as needed, you didn't want to saddle them with the job of taking care of them.

So, you plugged your headphones back in and switched to some new music, and got moving. Once you'd gathered your things, you grabbed an old flashlight out of your backpack and made your way out of the building.

Each step was a challenge. At this point, the rain had turned to a raging thunderstorm. The entire building smelled of dust and rain. Each step you took made a thick layer of water splash and hit your legs. The air was frigid. Every breath you let out turned to fog.

The entire building loomed over you, as if watching your movements. Analyzing. Threatening. You weren't welcome here anymore. It was time to go.

But as much as you were trying to find your way out, you only felt more lost. The entire building was a maze of frigid despair that held you in a vice grip. Your head began to pound. Your ears began to ring. You couldn't handle this.

Your stomach flipped inside of you, and you felt sickly. Desperate to escape, you started clinging to the icy concrete walls, hoping they might guide you to freedom. The darkness around you threatened to swallow you whole.

You took another step into the direction you were sure the door was, only to be met with another wall. You swallowed thickly. Your head was burning.

You needed to sit down.

In a desperate attempt to escape the water, you sat down on another one of the concrete benches. You pulled your legs into your torso and sat there, shivering in a pathetic little ball.

After only a short minute of this, you felt your stomach give out. You leaned your head over the edge of the bench and felt stomach acid crawl its way up and out of you. Thick bile splattered onto the floor below, and then was slowly washed away layer by layer by the flowing rainwater.

You reached into your bag and pulled out your lunch bag to reveal your half eaten lunch. You needed something plain to soothe the sickness. After searching half-blinded by darkness for a moment, you realized rather quickly that anything you ate would only worsen your condition. All of this food would be too rough on your stomach.

You put your lunch bag back and instead grabbed your water. You took a small sip, swished it, and then spat it out into the small river below you. After repeating this action about three times, you'd mostly removed the flavor of vomit from your tongue. Now you just needed to get home.

You went to stand, only to stumble backwards onto the bench again. Your legs wouldn't lift your weight. You were stuck.

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself back into a ball again and prayed for the headache you had to subside. You knew no such luck would befall you unless you got out of here, but you just couldn't find the exit.

You had nowhere to go.

You debated calling someone to come pick you up, Who did you know that would be up around now? Jack worked around now, right? You could try calling him. Maybe he could come pick you up.

You typed in your password and pulled up your contacts. Jack was near the top of the list. You felt bad asking your brand new friend to do something like this, but you didn't have much of an option.

You reluctantly pressed your finger down on his name.

Please.

Please.

Please.

...

The call didn't go through.

***

The sound of his footsteps was entirely blocked out by the thunder and rain. How far had he run now? And how had he done it so fast? He had no clue what was going on. How could he see? Shouldn't he be blind? Why did he hear so well? Why were his nails and teeth so long and sharp? Why did his mouth feel more full and blocked off than usual?

Finally, he was sure he'd lost them. The people who did this. He just needed to hide out for a little while.

He flung open the glass door to the old building and snuck inside. The water flowed like a slow river past his feet. No, not his feet any more, were they?

Yes, he could truly study his changed figure now. His feet had turned to cloven hooves connected to smooth blue-gray skin. Yes. His skin was an odd color now. It was smooth and tough, but so thin that you could see his veins through his skin. It had an odd iridescence to it.

The flesh in his eye sockets was visible now, and the black tar that had been poured into them dripped slowly down his face. He opened his mouth to try and understand why it felt so full and blockaded. The answer left him feeling sick.

Three long black tongues spilled from the gaping maw that was his mouth. His teeth were that of a sharks, and three rows of them sat along his gums.

No wonder he'd passed out from the pain early on. Honestly, it was probably a good thing. He didn't want to know what it felt like turning into... this.

Now then. To find shelter.

***

Silent tears slid down your cheeks. Water blurred your vision. Everything was so loud. So dark. The rain didn't slow its heaving pace as it slammed into the roof. You sniffled.

The cold had long since gotten to you, and now you sat there on the bench, hands numb and buried in between your thighs for warmth. Painful, icy breaths spilled from your sore throat.

You grabbed your phone to glance at the time, praying it still had battery. The screen lit up, showing you the time, before immediately powering off.

It was two in the morning now. Your phone was dead, and you were lost and sickly in an abandoned building.

Since the first time you vomited earlier that night, you'd thrown up twice more. Your head burned with illness. Your entire body felt heavy and frigid from the cold and your sickness.

You put your hand to your forehead. The heat almost burned your freezing hand. Not only was your hand cold anyway, but your head was burning up.

That made sense. You were likely going to end up horrifically sick because of this, weren't you?

Your head began to spin, and you laid down on your side on the bench. You put your backpack under your head like a pillow, hoping it would bring some slight warmth. Your vision became blotchy and dark.

You passed out.

[Words: 1303]