Delirium (Creepypasta x reader)

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That night you had fallen asleep to the soft, uneven sound of crows burbling outside your window. When you woke, however, there was only the sound of air slowly sifting through tree branches unsoftened by the walls of your home.

Because home was now a faraway dream.

The ground was even and gentle beneath your back, grass prickling at your neck. It was a welcome reprieve from the typically uneven ground, the rocks and sticks poking into your spine. Your nose was full of the smell of dirt.

This godforsaken forest- you couldn't get rid of it. Over and over again you kept appearing here for reasons outside of your realm of reasoning.

As you laid there on the ground (hoping desperately that you could go back to sleep and return to your room, to be anywhere but here), heavy footsteps revealed the close presence of a person as they made their way to where you were pretending to sleep. A shadow then blocked the light beaming onto your eyelids, casting darkness over your prone body. It was a person. Someone watching you as you pretended to be unconscious on the grass. They made no move to wake you, content with simply watching.

You continued to lay there; eyes shut tight. Breathing even.

A standoff.

You physically felt each second pass by, muscles tensing as the person continued to stare. You wondered idly, stupidly, who it was. Judging by the silence, it was that orange hooded guy. There was no way the one with the hatchets could be this silent for this long.

...

Jesus, what the hell was their problem? Why the hell were you even here?

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. Impatience (or fear) taking over, you grunted and opened your eyes, a grimace curving your mouth.

Your vision was blocked by a figure outlined in the weak moonlight standing over you just a foot away. Broad, stocky shoulders, feathered hair, tight laced hiking boots. Though your eyes had trouble with the details in shadow, the stark white of their mask was unmistakable.

Your eyes widened in terror, a gasp seizing in your throat. Your arms shot out as a shudder jumpstarted your bodily systems. Lush grass was crushed under your palms as you dragged yourself away from the man, eyes trained on the black voids where his eyes would be behind the mask.

His head tracked your movement, standing stock still. You had an inkling that he was enjoying your struggle, the fearful snarl that curled your lip.

By the light snicker that made its way to you, your theory was correct.

Well, fuck that.

Keeping the man in our field of view, you focused on your peripheral, the treeline. You weren't far from it, and a few good kicks of your legs would bring you close enough to make a break for it. Even as your injured leg protested. It would be harder to run with it, but you were sure that adrenaline would help mask the pain, help you hide away from the man.

The distance between you and the slight slope of the clearing dwindled, yet he still made no further move towards you. Still as a statue, observing. He was greatly underestimating your want to live and will to escape. Foolishly.

As you finally got close enough to execute your plan, tensing to jump up-

You stopped.

The loving embrace of the dark forest was right there, so close- yet you couldn't move. Frozen in place, all your joints locked up and refused to move. Refused to respond to your growing panic.

You couldn't lift a finger. In fact, your hands felt like they were going numb, cold with the telltale feeling of pins and needles slowly climbing up your skin, felt deep in your muscles.