[OLD] A Stranger Is Watching. (Creepypasta X Reader)

Chapter One Do-Over : Second Day Of The Dead

You thought I was gonna do it over where you could read it from the first part of the book?

No. I'm a mean bum. 

This is so you can get a real good grasp on my turdy upgrades in writing.

If you can't tell, I may be a bit more 'unprofessional' with the names and the pictures with this one, and no, I'm not gonna split up the first part like I did in the last one. (Unless my web browser is an idiot again)

So, thanks to @FriskTheDabber, @AzureWhisp , and the complement from @calicallove, I will do this whole thing over. You have made this SATAN of a book come back. :D You will all get credit in the destruction of the world! 

Ok, now time to reread the first through third parts of this book... MEMORIES!

(Y/N) strode down the long, dusty dirt road that hardly anyone lived on. She was cussing to herself inside her head, while she rubbed a large scar that ran down her forehead to the back of her neck. The scar was not recent, nor was she mentally freeking out about the thing that acted as a large part-line. She had snuck out of the house while her parents were fighting to get some space.

They were almost always yelling at each other, pulling their 12 year old daughter into it. Her mother wanted to get a devorce for the 12 years her daughter was alive because her dear old dad was an abusive drinker, and had quite the aditude when he was sober, but he was a sweet talker, and always got out of the sticky situation. It didn't help that pop was an avid drinker of hard liquor. Whiskey.

She finally reached the property. It was a large, four to five and a half acre plot of land out in the low populated, rural area of town. The closest neighbors were, at least, twelve miles away due to the local (if you could call it that) legends about some murderers, pedifiles, or even monsters flocking to the forest due to it's out of the way space.

(Y/N) still had a good while of walking to go because of the long, gravel covered driveway that lead to the house. She started counting fallen tree limbs on the ground to occupy herself. She counted the ones in between posts in the ground that had refectors on them.

10

2

1

0

9

6

(Y/N) stopped. She saw something on one of the limbs. It was hardly noticeable if she were to have just walked by, and was counting the gravel rocks (which she had done the last time), but it caught her eye. 

It was a small peice of ripped notebook paper, severed by one of the smaller sprouting branches. It looked like the letter 'A' was suppose to be on it, but was ripped.

"Wonder if those little shi- kids.... are trying to play hide and seek in our woods again... they always run off the deer." (Y/N) sneered, now wanting some good deer meat, or even better, rattlesnake. 

(Y/N) continued walking. The last time those kids wandered 13 miles out here on their fancy bikes, one got bit by an oak snake, and the rest got chased by a opossum with a very bad attitude. 

She continued to crave her meal, and almost forgot that she had to deal with her drunk dad and angered mother. She stopped right at the end of the tree line. There here house lay, in the middle of the large property. 

It was an old, two story home with a flooded bacement and a desert for an attic. The outside of the home had a decent sized porch, and old paint. The grass was a bit overgrown, and the gardens lack of color was all this place needed to look creepy. It was home, though, so (Y/N) couldn't really complain.

She took a deep breath. "Ok (Y/N), you can take it. She will understand, and if dad tries to throw a punch, just duck for cover, just like normal." She shook her head. "Shit. You go through this every day, so just waltz in there, and run for you room."

(Y/N) walked along the driveway until she reached a path that lead to the porch, and walked along that. She stopped at the door. She was wondering why she heard no yelling through the doors. 'They might just have found out I left and went to go check the gateway to hell....' That was one of the many nicknames given to a room that was, pretty much a dump in a literal sense. The room was filled with garbage bags, ranced food, dead animals, and empty alcohol bottles. It was easy to get hurt in there, some of the rats that (Y/N) had saw when she peaked in the door were even impaled by glass shards.

She walked through the door, and a pungent oder filled her nostrals. It smelt of blood, and a large ammount of it. The sent was so strong that it almost made (Y/N) recoil in disgust. 

'Did dad kill that stray dog? No, he couldn't have.' She thought.

The living room, kitchen, dinning room, bathroom, garage, and laundry room all looked clean, or, as clean as they would ever get in this place. The entire lower floor was fine, but no sign of her parents. (Y/N) ventured up the stairs. 

The smell was stronger. (Y/N) searched all the rooms upstairs, but each time passed up the death pile room. Once the entire floor was searched, except for that room, she finally decided that she would rather look in there than face the basement or the attic. 

The door stood slightly ajar. Carved into the wood was, 'DaNgeR! KeEP ouT! DangEROuS trASh pILe!' (Y/N) did that when she was a little girl, it got her a scolding and she was grounded for a week. She pushed it with a creak. 

There was now a ghastly sight in front of (Y/N). Two figures on the ground, drenched in blood. 

One was muscular, and, even over the scent of blood, smelled like whiskey. He was laying face down, but by what (Y/N) could see, there was a good amount of damage done to the face, neck, arms, and legs, but none of the cuts deep. It all seemed to be done with a large knife, or the sharp side of a metal scrap. The obvious cause of death was blood loss.

The other was petite. And was slumped on a heap of garbage. She was covered in bruises, and was slit at the neck. She choked on her own blood.

She couldn't look at it anymore, so she looked down. She was unable to move, though, she wasn't in shock, nor panicking inside her head. This was the cost of being mentaily unstable. After she had her accident, she was never really ok, even after the scar had healed.

There was a movement in the corner.

(Y/N)'s head snapped to see what it was, and, the creature knowing it had been spotted, stood still. It cussed under its breath. It was a guy.

"The fuck are you?" (Y/N) looked at the man, who straitened up. He was holding a crowbar.

"Why should I tell you?" He wore a brownish yellow jacket, and had a white mask slid up on his short, brown hair. His grip tightened on his crowbar.

 (Y/N) snapped like she was trying to get his atention.  "Hay, Hay, in the one asking the stupid questions before I die." She looked at the limp body of her father, then to the man. "You did this?"

The man took a few steps out into the more open area of the room. He looked taken aback by the child's boldness. "Yah." He pointed his crowbar at (Y/N). "You alright in the head, or are you a retarded kid?"

"I classify as an attack helicopter." She pointed up her finger and said it with full sarcasm.

"Uhhh-huh..." He looked (Y/N)'a mother. "Is that one your mom?"

(Y/N) nodded.

"She took a beating. Wouldn't go down without me killing the drunken man first. I'm lucky this house is so far out, she was louder than most" He paused, then mumbled a few things, then he looked at (Y/N) with an expression that can only be classified as insane. "Your coming with me."

When you need sleep but your so invested in your own story.