Therapy [Creepypasta x Reader] {#Wattys2015}

Bloody Painter : III

          You were paralyzed in a mixture of fear and shock as you stared at Helen with completely widened eyes. He paints with blood and it certainly seemed like he was enjoying it. You initially thought that the alias 'Bloody Painter' meant that he had a notable hobby of drawing and painting, but at the same time, took enjoyment in watching blood-shed. To put it in the most simplest terms, he's violent. However, now you knew that you were completely wrong. The reason behind this blood painting must be somehow connected with his past. No one would just go around killing people without a reason. Some would have to have a tragic past or a reason for doing something. No one just 'becomes insane'.

You stroked your chin thoughtfully, trying to piece together the events that led up to this. You realized, though, that doing this was impossible because you knew nothing of Helen's past. You let your fingers intertwine in your (h/c) locks, twirling it anxiously. There just had to be something...

"Are you scared?" Helen inquired, his eyes burning into your (e/c) ones, "I use my victims' blood to paint, that alone scares you, doesn't it?" He whispered in a deep and serious tone of voice. You started feeling nauseous as the fact struck you, as his eyes burned into yours. The confidence you had started to retreat from your mind and body because your mind was wavering and your body began to tremble slightly.

You weren't going to lie to your own feelings though. "I'd be lying if I said to you that I'm not scared of the fact that you use innocent people's blood to paint your own pictures," you smirked, "You are quite ambitious, exchanging other lives for your own needs." You felt your smile twist into a serious frown as you said. "Anyways, I need to ask you something important...as a therapist, that is."

Helen bit his lip in a sign of not wanting to but nodded his head, encouraging you to continue. His eyes started to glitter with disgust, as if he knew already of what you were going to ask. You internally freaked and gulped the building fear in your throat at the tone of his voice, "Could you give me... A general description of your past?"

"What made you ask about something like my past?" Helen placed his forehead on the cupped form of his right palm. He seemed exasperated at the fact that you were asking about something so personal about him. You do have to admit that asking about someone's past without even knowing so much as their name and age is disturbing towards the person being asked that, in this case that person being asked is Helen.

You bit your lip in realization and you shook your head in slight disappointment. "You don't have to answer that, I was... I was just thinking about some things," This was a partial lie, in fact you were thinking about a lot of things at this moment, "However, I would really appreciate it if you would answer me; I do have to help you, after all." You pointed out.

After a bit of thinking, Helen nodded his head, "Fine." He paused for a moment before looking at you, making eye contact. His eyes showed clear signs of remorse and maybe even a little bit of guilt, but that may have been your imagination. "When I was little, I always did things alone. I couldn't make that many friends." His eyes started to glitter with nostalgia as he continued, "But...there was this one boy that would hang out with me...I always considered him to be a friend, but I didn't really know at that time whether he considered me a friend or not..." He trailed off.

"Go on," You prompted, like a parent telling a child comfortingly to continue.

He clenched his fists as he continued his life-story, "Clearly though, I was wrong to think of him as a friend of mine. Basically when I went to school one day, I found an expensive watch in my locker, and then my locker-neighbor, who happened to be an aristocratic girl, noticed that I had the watch and she said that it was her watch, therefore she thought that I had stolen the watch and left the blame on me. Later that day, after school, my so-called "friend" told me to meet him on the roof." He tousled his own black hair anxiously.

"What happened to your so-called 'friend?'" You asked.

"Oh...? You're really persistent. I'll tell you though: he committed suicide right in front of my eyes. The only person I considered as a friend did that in front of my eyes...it made me angry, so I ended up like I am now...I killed my class and used their blood to paint on the walls of the school."

Curiosity started to take over you this time. "What did you draw on the walls? Or did you write something?"

"I wrote something." He stated with a deadpan look plastered upon his face. He seemed to know that you were going to ask what he wrote beforehand, so he answered the question in a low whisper. "I wrote: Don't Be Excited About Tomorrow," He looked at you with an unusual facial expression that made butterflies flutter freely in your stomach. His words and his serious tone sent shivers down your spine, "Because There Will Be No Tomorrow." Your reaction to this was like a fire on a candle forcibly being put out. It was like a sudden and forcible way of dropping your hopes.

After a short pause, you ended up mumbling, "I would be lying if I said that didn't make me terrified." You fiddled with your fingers and avoided making eye contact with Helen until the creepy aura that initially emanated from him fully diminished.

"And I would by lying if the face you made when I said what I wrote wasn't interesting." Helen glanced at me nonchalantly. He abruptly stood up before saying, "Let's go..."

"Where are we going?" You inquired as you scrambled to your feet and jogged over to Helen's side. You were sort of eager and nervous at the same time. Before Helen could open the door, much less lift his hand, you quickly turned the knob and pushed the door as far as the hinges could take it.

Instead of answering your question, he muttered, "You didn't have to swing the door to it's limits." He then turned so his back was facing towards you and he started walking down the long white hallway. Either he ignored the question you asked, or he didn't hear what you had to ask.

As you were walking, you noticed Dr. Manson with Kagekao in his cell. They seemed to be talking about something, but you noticed Kagekao's mask looked different. It was evenly split vertically with one half black, the other white like when you first saw him. However instead of a frown on the white half of the mask like before, there was a pleasant smile on the black half in white. Helen's voice cut you off from your thoughts. "What are you staring at Kage for?"

"Eh? Oh... nothing." You replied and jogged next to Helen. He didn't seem to believe you but he didn't question you any further. You decided to ask the question bluntly this time, and hopefully Helen would notice your bluntness and answer your question, whether willingly or reluctant. "Helen, where are we going?"

"You tell me." Helen's bluntness struck right back at you, just like a tennis ball, you hit a hard shot, and then they hit it back just the same right back at you. It made you slightly flinch.

"You know this place a lot more than me; shouldn't you be the one who should know where we're going!?" You ended up shouting, because you were anxious. You wondered on whether Helen had a bad sense of navigation/direction. You were both embarrassed and relieved at Helen's next words:

"I was joking." He rolled his eyes.

"You were what!? Did I seriously hear you right...?" You looked at Helen in disbelief. If he was joking he was utterly serious when he was. He showed no signs whatsoever that he was joking, of all the things in the world. Also, joking didn't seem to match his personality. "Okay, back on topic. You were joking, right? So therefore you know where we're going, right? So then where are we going?"

"Will you stop asking me that? It's starting to annoy me." Helen muttered under his breath.

"Well then answer it, can't you infer that much that questions left unanswered will just be thrown at you again?" You shook your head. "If you don't want me to annoy you, then just answer the question. Period."

He sighed and rubbed both his temples slowly. "Why don't you try to guess yourself? Or just let me lead you?"

You were surprised at his words, so you were left speechless for a little bit. Once you had recovered, you mused. "Why do you keep avoiding me? Is it because I'm annoying you, or you don't want to do this?" You named off a few possibilities.

Helen stopped in his tracks when he heard you say that. He then glared at you. "What if I said both?"

"Well, I don't know why you don't want to do this-"

"I don't need any help. I told you this a lot of times already." He still continued to glare at you with those icy blue irises and almost cat-like pupils.

Instead of getting mad at him, you continued as though Helen hadn't even said anything in the first place. "-but I know the reason that I am annoying you is because you're avoiding me." You sent back a glare of your own to Helen.

"Huh?" Helen seemed surprised at the statement you made.

"I'm annoying you because you're avoiding me. I'm also annoyed at the fact that you try to avoid me, so I act this way, which makes you annoyed." You tried explaining in the most understandable way possible. "So if you don't want to feel annoyed, you might as well let me help you."

Helen seemed conflicted for a little bit before he looked away, and although you could barely hear him (because he was whispering), you could hear him whisper, "Fine."

You then smiled. "So. If you're not going to tell me where we're going," you paused and held his hand (which caught him off guard so he couldn't shake off your hand), "how about... we go into town?"
end of chap.3~
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