Delirium (Creepypasta x reader)

•30•

This was no time for games. Now was the time for action.

Exam week was nigh.

Letting the pieces fall as they may, you now had to move forward with your fate and live with the results. Each lumbering step led you closer to the final act, each heartbeat another second wasted. Your tired eyes had scoured pages and pages of notes, gaining help with videos online about more difficult concepts. Numerous flash cards littered your room, the physical remains of your struggle against the upcoming dates.

You had one exam each day of the week. You could almost hear the universe laughing at you.

The bus ride down to campus was more of a funeral roll than regular travel, Charon the ferryman guiding your soul down the river Styx to be judged. Heavy eyelids purple with lack of sleep, like the sunken rot of a corpse. Your haggard demeanour only contributing further to the metaphor.

Your grip on the pencil was heavy, slicked with nervous sweat as you stared at the page, hyper aware of the rustling of paper and the scribbling of graphite all around you. You rubbed circles into your temple, attempting to draw upon the meagre knowledge in your brain.

You had struggled with studying, and it was showing. Nearly every question was a blurry mess, half-familiar terms turning to soup as you stared at them. 

It wasn't your fault. Or well, you wished it wasn't. Things just weren't the same since the start of the semester. You were waking up each morning as if you hadn't slept a wink, covered in dirt and often with mysterious injuries. At this point you should have been seriously considering a stay at the hospital, because if it wasn't sleepwalking (your windows were locked, wound with string. Your door was blocked) then that meant it was something worse, something sinister, something seriously wrong in all possible ways-

... No. You had to focus. The exam was only half complete, essay questions more ramblings than essays - but you had to persist. 

You took the entire time making sure each question had at least something on it, reading over your work, correcting the most horrendous answers. When the overseer announced the end, you had the urge to write "sorry :("at the bottom of the last page...

You refrained from doing so.

The other students made a hasty retreat as you took your time, mindful of your leg, to place your paper on the table just beside the door. 

The halls of the building were quiet, deserted. You could hear the echo of your footsteps as you made your way to the stairwell, and it unnerved you. The university was never this quiet. Yes, it made sense that it was empty, but that knowledge did nothing to quell the rise of the hairs on you neck as you made your way to the stairwell.

You hovered on the landing, ears pricking uncomfortably at how the creak of the door's hinges reverberated against the walls.

You peered down the stairwell as you descended, each footstep a dull roar in the echo chamber. No one came up, and no one followed, yet you still felt gooseflesh rise on your arms and legs.

It was a huge relief to finally leave, exiting into a peacefully quiet hallway. You cast a look in the opposite direction before making your way to the doors and stepping into the frigid air.

You looked back to the door before pulling out your phone, checking for messages.

None. Both a good and a bad thing. 

-

After every exam you had to work a shift at the bookstore. It was all hands-on-deck now that the holiday season had turned every window into a show of the finest gifts a store had to offer. The displays were full of Christmas-centric stories, baubles, and decorations. The uniform had changed slightly to allow greens and reds and headbands with reindeer horns or hats with elf ears.