Creepypasta origins stories

Clockwork

A little girl sat in her room. Her messy brown hair was up in pigtails, as her hazel eyes stared at the door. She hugged her stuffed giraffe to her little body, and listening closely to the loud yells of her father and mother.
"I never should have had any damned kids!" Screamed loud deep voice. "All they do is make messes, complain, draw on walls-" He was cut off by the high yells of the girls' mother.
"They're CHILDREN David! They don't know any better!"
"Oh fuck me Marybeth! I DON'T want to hear your bullshit excuses! I've had about just enough of them!"
"And what do you plan to do about it?!"

The girl heard loud footsteps coming towards her room, and hugged her giraffe closer. The door was violently opened and in the doorway stood her large, angry, overweight father. In one of his meaty hands, he held a large textbook.
"David, stop it!" screamed her mother.
But the father ignored his wife's pleading cries. He grabbed the little girl by the collar, and she screamed and kicked, trembling and shaking in fear. The girl's father harshly held up the textbook.
"This is for drawing on my fucking walls, you little bitch!"
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Years later, the little girl, known as Nataile, was now 9 years old. Going through the stage puberty, she was naturally a little chubby. Like usual she sat in her room watching TV. Her dad was ranting on about some economic crap that she could really give less a shit about, as she munched on some popcorn. She was also currently drawing a picture. There was a bit of gore in it, but strangely, she really liked drawing blood. It gave her a weird satisfaction. Other than that, multitasking was no problem for her. It became apart apparent to her at a young age, after having do so much hard work and labour, that she was able to do so many things as once. Drawing ended up being her talent and passion. It was her way of escaping reality, whenever something bad would rear its ugly head and peer in, or when she was simply bored. She suddenly heard the closing of her door, and looked to her left, pausing on munching on her popcorn. There stood her brother Lucas; who was 14 years old.
"What is it?" She could still hear her father's yelling from outside the door.
"Dad scaring you?" He let out a chuckle.
"No way. I think we're both used to his yelling by now." There was a long pause. "So, why are you in here?" He seemed to play with his sleeves slightly, and twitch a bit.
"I have to ask you something." He trained his eyes on her. She frowned slightly, growing impatient with her interrupting her movie and drawing.
"What?"
He moved a little closer. "You said you wanted to be cool, and grow up like a teenager, right?"
She nodded, suddenly slightly brighten up.
"Well, I have an offer."
"Just spill it dimwit!"
"...You know what...what guys and girls do together, right...?"

The next day at school, Nataile did not say a word. She did not speak for the whole day. She didn't have anyone to talk to anyway. Nobody could know. Nobody should know. And so, nobody would know. Her teacher picked up on a few of her puzzled expressions, but she dismissed it as she just did not understand the lesson. Nataile also felt as if she was in severe pain. She had no idea it could...hurt. Feeling scared, she walked home and silently went to her room. But later in the day, she was once again greeted by her brother.
Nobody would know.

At school, she finally decided to tell someone. Even through they weren't friends, she just felt she had to. She walked up to the group of girls she would occasionally see in the hallway. They looked like nice girls, and them and Nataile had occasionally talked before.
"Hey...Mia." The ginger girl looked over at Nataile, having a straight face.
"Yeah?"
"I uh...really need to talk to you about something. It has been going on for a while, and you and your friends...Well, I feel like your the only people I can trust." Mia and her friends seemed to pull little smirks, but only for a moment. Little did Nataile know, that they were hungry for gossip.
"Alright, you can trust us. What's up?"
One day later, was all it took. She had been getting constant remarks on social networking sites, such as Facebook. One time, someone even called her a whore. Not to mention their lunch ended up getting in her hair. It was going to be the least of her problems, but Nataile being only 9, could not help but be greatly upset at this fact.
However she did not cut, she did not peep, and she never said a word about it. As you may recall, so far in this journey, she kept everything inside. She supported it was better. She wouldn't let any pain get the best of her.
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3 AM. School night. Her mother was going to kill her. The girl know as Nataile, was now 16. She was productive in high school, close to the honor roll. For once, she felt calm and happy. Though, like usual, she would be called a 'hermit' in her room, hiding away from her dad who liked to yell and baby about economy, politics and all of the other bullshit she was flat out tired of hearing.