You Won't Wake Up: A CreepyPasta FanFiction (Watty's 2014)

Birds of a Feather: Sally's POV

Maylin walked up to Toby, hands on hip as she asks him the routine questions. Again, he states that he was never showed a warrant after being tazered in the cabin and that he was never read his rights. I notice a few guards off to the side standing uncomfortable as he recounts how he had been shoved, brutalized, pushed until he had scars on his hands.

"Mr. Rogers, what were you told while being interrogated?"

"I was in the police car being driven to the jail, when the police officer told me Clockwork was dead, that she had been killed. They kept up the charade until I finally met her again while we were talking to you." She nods, and continues to linger on the subject until she is satisfied with the answer

Then, a new person goes to the stand after Maylin thanks him and they go sit down. The man sitting behind the wooden podium is aging, wrinkles set deeply in his skin. I would place him to be around fifty or sixty, based on the deep set aging features and tired eyes.

"Mr. Jacobs, you are Natalie Oulette's uncle?" The male lawyer asks.

"Yes." His voice is heavy, hands folded over his lap, eyes tired. Clockwork sits with her hand over her mouth, as her fingers turn white gripping the side of the chair, her face pale.

"On her mother's side, correct?"

"Yes."

"How was Natalie as a child?"

"She was sweet. She and her brother went together like two peas in a pod. She was always laughing and everything that a young girl does. There were always hints that she wasn't fully there, though. Sometimes when I'd talk to her she would look at me blankly, with so much rage in her face that I didn't know was possible to conjure." He sighs, looking at Clockwork miserably, as she looks down, avoiding his glance.

"Were there ever suspicions that her brother was assaulting her?" The lawyer states, as Clockwork gasps, shoulders stiff, hand down from her mouth, nails digging into the wooden chair's sides.

"Yes. But I refused to believe it." The man's voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, tears forming in his eyes, "She mentioned one day that her brother had walked in on her while she was taking a bath, and just stood there looking at her. My wife, may she rest in peace, was appalled and called Lillian up, in a frenzy about it. But Lillian never believed her. Since Natalie wasn't our child, we couldn't do anything. We begged Lillian to allow Natalie to stay with us for a few months so we could at least get her away from James, but she refused. She always was a stubborn bitch. And it just got worse. Natalie would come to us and my wife would take James out and I would ask her if James did anything unusual and her stories just got worse and worse. He would tell her apparently, 'it's okay, I'm your brother, brother and sisters do this,' and it broke my heart. But Lillian and Thomas refused to believe that James was anything but a perfect angel, and that Natalie had probably just read something and was repeating the stories. But we knew. And since there wasn't proof, the CPS couldn't do anything. And it's all our fault. If we had just-" His voice cracks, and Natalie lets go of the chair, balling her hands up in her lap, biting the inside of her cheek instead.

"Why wouldn't Lillian and Thomas Oulette believe you?"

"Because they said every single time we would tell them, 'she's lying, she's lying, she's lying.' No child would make stories like that. No child ever." His voice is enraged as he continues, "And no one believed her except us, and we couldn't do a damned thing. We constantly invited Natalie over, only Natalie, and Lillian one day exploded at us and refused to allow us to keep contact ever again. I was so angry. I wanted to storm over there and rip Natalie from her and take her someplace safe. It broke my wife's heart that Lillian would be cruel enough to allow the abuse to continue. They never called or talked to us, until one day."