His Sister? A Creepypasta Fanfiction

Psycho Meets Killer

Ten years later...... Your  them...the "normal" people who hide behind closed doors, they pretend like they don't have any secrets and that their not living their life in constant fear of the police. How dull of a life is that? Your parents did this, the moment you told the police what you saw your parents acted so innocent and told them that you had hit your head too hard, the problem with "normal" people is that they can't handle big secrets or something like killing so they need a vent -someone or something to help them cope with their secret and how shameful they are- and unfortunately your your dad's, he uses your "craziness" as a vent to take out all of his anger. Screaming things like,'If only you could be normal!', or,'You crazy little fuck, you think anyone gives a damn about you? You deserve to slit your wrists!' He uses that frustration to hit you and yell at you but....you just laugh, laugh at him for how little it takes to make him angry, laugh at your mom for what killing did to her, how prideful she used to be, and at yourself for allowing yourself to lose your brother. 'Look at that face, that shameless face, the same face that lied to you about your brother! How can she be so calm? She deserves to suffer!!!!' (My friend KPOPJUNKIE4LIFEU helped me with this part😁⬇) You try to ignore the voices and focus on your sleeping mother, you can tell she has been drinking because of the smell of alcohol.' I need to get out of here before morning...' you thought, so you carefully get out of the grip of your mother's hand.Once you did that, you grab your phone, earbuds, bag, and a solar powered charger. You grab your bag and put the stuff you need in it, and take one final look at your mother. You whisper 'goodbye mother' and quickly leave the room and walk down the stairs, carefully taking one stair at a time, not wanting to wake up your mother-if that was possible when she's in her alcoholic comma- and your father. You've had enough of this, for ten fucking years you've been called crazy, your tired of your parents yelling at you and hitting you, they killed your brother and by now, your voices have made you reach the brink of insanity. You fear if you stay any longer you might kill them and that's the one thing your scared of; having no meaning left in the world, yeah, sure you've fantasized about killing them, you even planned it out, what to kill them with, how you'll trick the police, what's the quickest way to cry, stuff like that. You could kill them and you want to but....what's to become of your little piece of sanity then? You instead use all of your hatred for them, your friends, and yourself to cut yourself, you stop at the door, looking down at your arm, your sleeves cover more than half of the now scars and It's dark now but you still feel the need to pull it down more, you whince at the thought of your parents giving you a bag of razors for your birthday, not thinking you'd be brave enough to actually do it; cut yourself. You carefully open the door, closing it slowly behind you, you don't know where your going to go, you have a feeling that any place you go to will be filled with "normal" people, dull people, "unnormal"- people who claim to be unnormal but are really dull and normal- people, and people who haven't ever been hit, yelled at, felt the need to die, or bullied, you won't fit in anywhere. You need to get out of town tonight because your family may look for you...only to have someone to blame, they'll eat eachother alive without someone besides themselves, you smile at the thought. When you get to the next county you'll probably get into an orphanage an do all you can to stay there until your eighteen( two years from now), when you become an adult and you'll have a job by then, then you can get an apartment and attend college through your good grades-your actually really smart-. You've been walking through the woods near your house for a pretty good while now, you remember the way to the bus stop and you've been saving up money for awhile now, you have around three hundred dollars from helping your neighbors with chores and working at diffrent jobs. You suddenly hear the slight sound of a twig breaking, if it had been anyone else in the woods they wouldn't have been able to hear it and even if they did, they'd write it off as an animal but you know better, for all you know that little sound could be a police officer or your parents. You quickly turn around, looking right and left from where the sound came from but It's useless, It's twelve at night and you can't see anything through the pitch black sky, you squint your eyes, staring into blank space until your convinced it was an animal so you turn back around, continuing to walk towards the bus stop. After a few minutes of walking you hear the scuff of a shoe so you turn around, fighting the urge to grab the knife carefully concealed in your hoodie's front pocket, you brought it just in case you met up with a cop, a robber, or anyone you knew, you know it would be hard to kill someone for the first time but...that's why you've been practicing on animals. You can't see anything but you know someone's there, you can feel eyes on you, you squirm uncomfortably and stare into the dark, hoping to catch the glint of eyes. After a few minutes you sigh, giving up on the stalker, they'll show themselves when their ready, if it was the police they'd have showed themselves from arrogancy and jumped her with a gun, you decide to lead the stalker on, walking a little off track and leading him off to the bus stop. The streetlight lights up the bench and the blue bus stop sign, you sit down, pulling your bag on the bench with you, awaiting for your stalker to show him/herself, after around five minutes of waiting you get bored, you know that the bus will be here in a few minutes. "Seriously, when are you going to show yourself? Are you stupid or something mis or mister Stalker?" You ask your stalker, standing up to your feet. After a few minutes of silence hysterical laughter fills the night, provided by your stalker, the stalker walks into the light and you gasp at the sight, your stalker is a man with an unhealthy porcelain color to his skin with is in stark contrast to his long ink black hair that goes a little past his shoulder. He has huge, smoldering blue eyes, almost the color of ice-if ice had some blue to it- circled in a sort of purple-black color that causes him to look like he hasn't slept in years. Perhaps the most diffrent thing about your stalker is that he has a beautiful-to you- wide smile, cut upon across his cheeks, the cuts have look as if it's been years since he last cut the smile upon his cheeks though, it's still a bright crimson red. He cackles, bringing out a knife from his white hoodie's pocket, your smile only brightens-you know him-, you've read about this boy before, a boy the same age as you, a Creepypasta, his name is Jeffery Woods and you admire him for fighting his bullies, having the bravery to let his demons take over, and for having the strength to leave his family and never to look back. Yeah, you've read the Creepypasta on Ben Drowned and honestly, it pissed you the fuck off, it's probally just attention starved reporters who have heard very little about your brother...right? You still remember the day your parents sold off your Majora's Mask game though, your brother loved that game, he played it constantly and the day he died...he promised he's allow you to play it, ever since that day you'd lock yourself in your room with his game system and play it, for two weeks you didn't go to school, and when you did you found out that your friends had become your enemies. You played the game because...for some odd reason it comforted you...like you were really playing with him, you still played with his file, you wanted to help him finish it and you were so close when one day your parents had had enough, they unplugged the system in the middle of your quest and you lost the whole file. They then sold it, you sometimes wish he was alive and that he ruled over video games, he would be happy. "Why are you smiling?" Jeff says walking up to you, moving with inhuman speed, before you know it, he's behind you, a knife pressed against your neck. "Why should I be scared?" You ask him. "Whatever smartass, you'll soon be screaming, whether from pain or pleasure. Answer this carefully and I might not kill you. What's your name?" Jeff asks you. You reach your hand in your pocket lightly wrapping your hand around the hilt of your knife but you decide that there's no harm in answering, you know all about him after all,"(Y/n) Lawman." You reply and in response you feel the knife press tighter around your neck, enough to draw a little bit of blood but your used to pain so you whince quietly biting down on your lip. "Lier!" He chuckles. "Damn it, I'm not lying!" You reply as the knife's pressed so hard against your neck that you let out a cry of pain. "Oh yeah? You don't look much like a mom." Jeff says grabbing ahold of your chin, turning it to face him. "What do you mean?" You ask confidently. "Do you know a Ben little girl?" Jeff asks you, whispering seductively in your ear. "B-Ben?" You stutter, eyeing Jeff in fright. "Yeah, now answer me princess...unless you want things to get ugly." Jeff says. "How do you know Ben? Obviously you'd have been six or seven when Ben died!" You cry out, staring him in his piercing eyes, he quickly lets you go. "Ah...so you do know something? You wouldn't happen to be Ben's bitch of a mother? Because I have a special torture in mind for her....rape maybe....how old is she?" Jeff asks you. You stare at him, your eyes wide, you can't believe he knew Ben...what if Ben's a Creepypasta,"Jeff, how do you know my brother?" You ask Jeff and his eyes suddenly widden to the size of saucers. "W-what?? You lying bitch, Ben doesn't have a sister!" Jeff shouts, lunging at you with his knife, you quickly dodge, pulling out your knife. "You mean didn't and he does!" You grunt, kicking him in the gut, he grunts over in pain, looking up at you like he's just now seeing you. "Look kid, you must be a psycho if you just "happen" to have a knife in your pocket...I like it!" He grunts, standing up straight with a wide grin. "Yeah, well, you were stalking me so you must be a killer.....I love it!" You say brightly, licking the edge of your blade, that just "happened" to graze his skin, he watches in amazement, finally, not a dull person!