Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

Darkness and Terror

The sticky black blood of the Dregs I've butchered washes down the shower drain. This is my third time scrubbing my entire body, and I've only now gotten it all off. Killing's hard work, but the cleanup is a Herculean effort. Luckily, we don't have water bills here.

The reeking scent of gore can't be washed away, however. The blood has already stirred up the murk of my mind like a cloud of sand in clear water. Visions of Gray, Matt, Felix, and the Rake reemerge, and I can hear my three old friends laughing like maniacs in my bedroom.

When I turn off the water, I step out of the shower and see the Rake sitting on my sink, its glare and grimace unmistakable. I walk across the bathroom with my towel, its gaze following me until I turn on the exhaust fan. I go to backhand it, but it flips backward into the mirror, disappearing from existence.

I stare at the mirror as I dry off, my friends now howling with laughter, until I shout, "Would you shut up?"

They're silent as I finish up and enter my bedroom. I scan the room, and they're nowhere to be found, thankfully. I let go of the breath I've held and drop my towel on the floor to head into my closet. When I change into fresh clothes and return, I see Ally holding my wet towel in her hands.

I look between her and the towel before commenting, "Benny tries to be sneaky, at least."

"Thou hast misread mine intent," she drops my towel into a laundry basket, "I heard thy shouts. Wast thou having a phantasmagoria?"

I curse under my breath, "It's normal, at this point. I don't want you to worry about me."

She teleports in front of me, holding my face in her hands, "This proceedeth well beyond an ailment. This is a curse, (Y/N)."

"A curse wouldn't be controlled by medicine," I glance at my nightstand where one of Ann's bottles of antipsychotics waits for me, "Trust me, Ally, I'll be fine. I'm already starting to see what's real and what isn't."

Ally glances over her shoulder before looking me in the eye, "Nightmare desireth to speak with thee."

I nod lightly, "So long as she promises to behave."

Ally's mouth is the first thing to change, "I am a child not, dunce," Nightmare stands over me, her empty eyes narrowed, "Why dost thou refuse to seek aid? Art thou striving to avouch aught? That thou art a grand man?"

"People are looking up to me, Nightmare, and I have a lot to prove," I explain.

"What like?" she growls.

"That I'll be the one to save them. How long have you all been fighting? Decades? I've been fighting for less, and I'm trying to give you all a break," I walk over to my desk, looking down at the spot Gray's flaming bandage once laid, "Quick and cleanly. That's how Jackie and Rouge taught me to kill. It'll be over soon, and I've just got to push through it."

Nightmare tilts her head at me, "I trust thou dost address me. How canst thou hope to save others if thou canst not save thyself?" She walks over to me, pulling me under her arm, "If thou dost insist on bearing this unspoken burden alone, then suffer me to attend to thy demons. Thy malady hath transmuted into a curse, and curses are a specialty of mine, as Slenda's heir."

"What do you mean?" I look up at her, "How are you going to deal with a hallucination?"

Nightmare's laugh darkens the room, "I shall destroy them," she puts her clawed hand on my shoulder, "Some demons are a darkness of the mind. What better remedy is there than another demon?"

* * *

The demonic howl of my mask reverberates in the auditorium of the forest, marking yet another massacre amidst my nightly festival of death. The Dregs' blood still runs fresh, and I'm gone before their campfire's flames are snuffed out by the rain which starts to roll over the forest. It's only an hour into my killing, and I'm noticing significant changes to Zalga's defense.