(A/N The Executioner's theme up above ↑↑)
I was once. Like. You. Lived in a shitty little town, with shitty little people. Went a shitty little high school with shitty ass kids. Well that was my life. Shitty. But that was 3 years ago.
3 years ago...
As I trudged through the hallway heading to my locker, after all the bruises from being tripped and such and after my red hair being tugged on by everyone, I have had enough. I put all my books in and just walked out of there until I saw them. Jimmy Hacksaw, Ronnie Carter and Mason Black, the school's most popular idiotic jocks.
"Well lookie who we have here, boys."
"Leave. Me. Alone."
"Or what, pull out razors for all of us? You know you don't belong here, freak." Mason said, bitterly.
They cornered me as this was the usual. Battered and bruised. And with a black eye. I stumbled to my safe haven, an abandoned football field. I laid on the bleachers as my ribs were kinda broken. I listened to music as I winced in pain.
Diary entry #1
The beatings get worse every day. I just wish they would drop dead. I just can't take it anymore. At least my mom understands but not her asshole of a boyfriend. The pain I have to go through with him around. I just wish I was in a world of my own.
I closed my Legend of Zelda journal and started to make my way to Hell, known as my house.
As I walked into the kitchen, I saw my mom.
"Hey mom." I greeted while getting something cold for my eye.
"Bad day again?" She pointed to my eye.
"More like worse. How was yours?"
"You have no idea."
I walked upstairs to my room as I winced in pain. 21 Guns by Green Day was blasting over the speakers as I held a wet cloth and pressed it on my ribs, at least that'll get the throbbing down.
"WHERE'S MY DINNER, YOU LITTLE WHORE?" Oh no. He's here. Satan's spawn. I prepared for a war as I looked at my little black box. I locked myself in the bathroom and did the deal. Every line marks another day near to my end. I felt the silver, sharp razor blade and I just cut till I can't take it anymore.
6 hours later...
I cleaned the blood I shed. They had another fight.
I silently crept downstairs. I saw my mom on the ground in a fetal position. "Mom,are you OK?" And that's when I saw the abrasion on her face.
"H-he hit me." And that's when I realized why I hate him.
I got mom into bed and I got some alcohol and ginger ale. I just kept taking shots until I passed out.
The next morning...
Same old, same old.
Tripped, kicked upon, the whole shebang. And then I looked in my locker and saw a weird sign. A circle crossed out by an X.
"Weird." It looked like I saw that sign before.
YOU ARE READING
The Executioner (A Creepypasta Origin) (RE-HORRORED)
Horror"I. Am. Him." he whispered in a singsong tone. I hid in the closet as I feared I was next. Meet the newest member of the Pastas. The Executioner. Hear his origin, his story on how he became a creepypasta.
