Psycho Celeste(OC Creepypasta Story [Subject to Occasional Editing])

Chapter 2

The song up here ^ is Anna Blue - Silent Scream
This song is how Celeste felt during the week following her family's death.
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Celeste awoke the next day after passing out in the woods. At first she was a little dazed and confused. After a minute or two, Celeste realized she was in a hospital. It was late afternoon/early evening.

A doctor came from behind the privacy curtain. "I see you're finally awake," he said. "H-how'd I get hear?" Celeste asked, unsure of what happened after she lost consciousness. "You were found by a patrol officer on the side of the road, near the woods. You're lucky you weren't found by that teen who killed his father a while back."

Before she could ask anything about it, Celeste's father came barging into the hospital drunk, demanding to see his only surviving family. Hearing his voice brought back memories of the past few days. After the fire, Celeste found out that she had to drop out of college in order to pay for her family to be buried. Even then, there wouldn't be enough to cover everything despite there being an insurance policy.

She didn't want to go back to living with her abusive alcoholic father, especially since the fire was HIS fault to begin with. If he hadn't thrown that bottle of vodka into the fireplace, they wouldn't be in this mess. She'd still have her brothers and sisters here, as well as her mother.

Something in the back of Celeste's mind, what sounded like a whisper, told her that he should pay, that she should kill him. She shook her head. Murder was wrong. Even if her father was responsible for their family's death, she couldn't do it.

Could she?

Mark Dove, Celeste's father, stumbled in from behind the privacy curtain, disrupted her thoughts. "Celeste! *hic* How could you *hic* do this! I'm your *hic* father!!" Not only was he plastered, but he was treating her like a disrespectful little child! If she didn't want to kill him before, she did now. Any normal father would be relieved, if not glad, that their child was ok. But this drunken bastard was yelling in a belligerent manor on how selfish she was for taking off like she did, and how stupid she was for dropping out of college.

He crossed a line when he said she had to of 'quit' college due to being as retarded as her mother, "Mom wasn't retarded!" She yelled back, "She had clinical depression, something you'd know if you weren't always out getting drunk. And I didn't 'quit' because I was retarded! I maybe slow, but I am not stupid! I dropped out of college because there wasn't enough money for school and to bury our family. But you wouldn't know that, would you? You're nothing but a drunken ass bast-"

Celeste was cutoff by her father slapping her across her face hard, leaving a developing bruise. Seeing this, the doctor stepped in, "Sir, you can't raise your hand to a patient. Particularly if they may have experienced some form of head trauma."

"Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do to my own daughter!" Shouted a still drunk Mark, "She's my child. And if I want to discipline her for disrespecting me, I will!"

"The way you're going about it, is considered abuse," stated the doctor, " and it's apparent that you had quiet a bit to drink tonight. Maybe you should wait until you're sober to deal with-"

"Who put you in charge of when, and how I can do things?!?!?!?!" Mark shouted.

The voice that was once a small whisper in Celeste's head, was gradually getting louder, as well as being accompanied by others, 'kill him... It was his fault... Do it... It's what he deserves... Do it... Do it...' She grasps her own head. "S-stop. S-stop please...," tears were beginning to fall down her face.