BΣƬЯΛY ΛПD DΣGЯΛDΣ (Various! Creepypasta x F! Reader)

XXI

As chunks of your partially digested protein bar splattered across the bottom of the bucket, Jack sighed and walked off to the side. You gulped down another wave of nausea and glanced up at him. On the counter in front of him was a rag as well as an opened first aid kit. Beside him was a sink where he wet the rag before walking back over to you.

He tilted his head a bit as he seemed to study you, "are you done?"

You definitely still felt nauseous, but it seemed like your stomach had run out of contents to throw up. You slowly nodded in response to which Jack took the bucket and placed it next to you. He then stepped behind you and carefully brought the cloth to your injury. Blood matted hair stuck to your scalp as the shallow cut continued to ooze the dark red substance. Jack's lips were pulled into a hidden frown as he applied pressure to the wound, earning a pained wince from you.

"It looks like you have a concussion," he observed as he wiped away the blood as gently as he could. You sniffled as your eyes fell to your lap and filled with tears yet again. Your mind felt foggy, and the death of your friends was just beginning to fully set in. First Emery who had choked on her own blood until her final breath, and then Sadie who had died by your hands, to your baseball bat colliding with her skull until her brains were nothing but mush. You still couldn't believe it. You still couldn't believe that you had murdered Sadie. Your chest tightened with pain every time you thought about it, all of the blood, her cold dying corpse, the squelching of bloody flesh. What had you done?

Another sigh was heard behind you before Jack walked back around and set the bloodied rag back down on the counter. He calmly stood in front of you before reaching for your face and gently tilting your head up. You made no effort to pull away as you blinked a bit, the overhead light only making your eyes sting. His gloved hands slowly moved your head from side to side as he inspected you for any more injuries that he might have missed. He seemed to decide that you were fine before releasing you. He retracted his hands and went to the sink to wash the rag until it was no longer red.

Once he was done he pulled out a roll of bandages as well as a square of gauze from the kit and carefully began dressing the wound. The bandages wrapped around your head and covered most of your forehead, which you were sure wasn't exactly flattering. Though you doubted the dried blood in your hair was doing you any favors either.

The air in the room smelled of chemicals, blood, and dirt, which did nothing to help your mind move away from the deaths you had just witnessed. Though guilt was something that never seemed to fade. Your head, your eyes, and your now bruise-covered arm ached. Everything hurt, even your mind, and no matter how much you wished it would, it wouldn't go away.

The door to the basement suddenly opened with a loud creak as Hoodie made his way back into the room. With his fists still clenched with worry, he headed over to the table that you were sitting upon and looked to Jack.

"Is she alright?"

He shrugged, "she has a mild concussion, but she should be fine by tomorrow."

Hoodie nodded as he then looked at you, "can I take her back to my room then?"

"Nope." Jack immediately replied, "It's better if she stays here for now, you can come get her in the morning."

His answer didn't seem to be the one Hoodie wanted based on the loud sigh that followed.

"Fine then," he grumbled and glanced at you one last time before leaving the basement.

Jack seemed relieved when he left and promptly went back to cleaning everything up. You watched him silently as you reached up to feel the back of your head. Rough bandages held a gauze in place to stop the bleeding while blood-covered hair poked out from its edges. You winced and let your hand drop back down to your lap as Jack turned around to face you.

"You need to lay down," he stated as he blankly stared at you. It took you a second to process what he meant before you looked down at the metal table that was uncomfortably cold. You frowned before hesitantly laying down, immediately shivering and pulling your knees to your chest.

Jack sighed a bit before walking over to the couch that was across the room from where you currently laid. He wordlessly sat down and switched on the television that was propped up in front of him, paying you no mind as he calmly watched some horror movie you didn't recognize. He certainly wasn't very hospitable, not that you expected anything else based on how he treated Emery. None of these people were going to be kind to you, and though that fact wasn't something you appreciated, it was the truth. Jeff was naturally a prick, Masky had serious anger issues, and Jack was always cold to everyone around him.

Then there was Hoodie. A man who though you had spent the most time with, you couldn't seem to figure out. Sometimes it appeared as though he cared about you and your well-being, other times it seemed like he couldn't care less. He had stabbed you like twelve times only around a week ago, and then he had trapped you in an unbearably bright room that constantly blasted music, and you couldn't just forget that. But there was also just a few minutes when he ordered you to fight and live, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to that than him just simply wanting to win the bet. He confused you, and you didn't think you'd come to understand him any time soon.

Your eyes fluttered shut as after a few minutes you found you couldn't hold them open any longer. Terrified screams echoed throughout the room as Jack's movie progressed and only got gorier, the only thing you were thankful for being that their voices didn't sound anything like your friend's. You would have thought that sleep would be hard to obtain, especially with the light above you still shining. But as fatigue made your body feel even heavier, your mind finally slipped away into a restless sleep.

3.3 pages · 1,150 words