~Creepypasta x Reader (One shots)~ Completed

Laughing Jack

A/N: This one shot is going to be a bit different from the others. I want to try an original twist. Tell me what you think. WARNING THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND POSSIBLE TRIGGERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO SUCH TOPICS.

You blink lethargically, the lingering draughts of sleep escaping as you break the cold waking world. Your body feels stiff and achy, every movement sending dull pain singing up your spine. Your head felt as if it were filled with cotton, leaving you woozy and disoriented. Perplexed, you frown and attempt to shake the cobwebs from your memory as you gingerly sit up to absorb your surroundings...

You were laying on an old creaky bed, bright pink Powerpuff girls covers drawn up to your chest to cocoon your aching body. The floors were covered with shaggy white carpeting, appearing grubby with age no matter how many times it was scrubbed and cleaned. The walls were painted a delicate pink, cluttered with posters and other fickle items habitual of a young female.

The windows were opened, starched white cotton curtains fluttering at the gentle breeze nudging through them. Dull rays of sunlight struggled to light the room, suffocated by gloomy grey clouds. A simple wooden wardrobe, refurbished vanity, bedside table and the bed you laid on were all that furnished the cramped space. The faint smell of lemon reached your senses and your heart thudded thickly in your chest.

Your surroundings resembled a place from your most tarnished of memories: your childhood room.

Which meant, you weren't safe.

Cautiously, you slipped out of the covers and rose to your feet, sensation flooding to your limbs in a prickle of bloodflow. But something was not right. Everything seemed...bigger, if such was possible. As if your perspective of the world around suddenly diminished to a small scale.

Perplexed, you padded your way to the vanity, the carpet sticky and stiff as it tickled your bare feet. All the while an uneasy feeling stirred at the back of your mind as your mind calculated dozens of differences in your being.

Your stride was shorter, more restricted. Your body felt oddly stumpy and awkward, yet lighter as if you had suddenly dropped several pounds. Your pulse felt jittery yet softer, kind of like the gentle patter of the rain on your skin rather than the roll of thunder that rams against your chest cavity. Your vision was brighter yet dull as if it no longer took in the details it ritually did due to your constant paranoia. You felt wrong.

When you reached the vanity set you leaned forward to squint in the dusty mirror, trying to discover what exactly had this strange sentiment thrumming through you. A vague, slender silhouette blurred on the grimy reflective surface, a figure greatly slighter and shorter than you were. Throat suddenly bone dry, you shakily reach out to wipe a clean oval out in the dust covering the reflective surface and your jaw dropped.

What the hell?!

The fifteen-year-old you stared back at you. Awkwardly built with (e/c) eyes too big for your face and a mop of (h/c) hair sticking out wildly from your head to give you the appearance of a startled deer, the younger (Y/N) stared back at you with an equal expression of horror. Your underdeveloped body was clothed in overalls and a t-shirt, your basic outfit for when you were tending to the house or caring for your mother.

That thought stopped you cold, the familiar icy grip of panic freezing over your insides and clogging your breathing passages as it triggered a reaction that had you gripping the vanity for support. The memory rushed to the surface, so blinding it practically knocked you to the ground, dragging you into its inky depths as you fought against its hold.

The smothering sweet stench of pot mixed with the heavy flavor of crack hung over the room in a dense cloud of smoke, burning your lungs... The hysterical laughter of strangers as rough hands groped your body, heedless to your kicks and screams...It didn't feel right, it hurt couldn't they understand that? Just stop please just stop.

The sting of tears dripping down your cheeks as you reached towards the smiling figure of a woman with features so like your own but (m/e/c) eyes so empty of emotion, your cracked voice begging for help... The rush of painful, heart rendering disappointment as she shook her head and turned away from the horrid scene, her caustic words ringing in the air...