The Girl in the Attic | Creepypasta x Reader

Chapter 2

Your surroundings were completely dark, and you felt the familiar feeling of emerging from your sleep hit you. As each of your senses came back, you could hear the chirp of birds in the trees outside, paired with the wind blowing through the autumn leaves, sending them scattering to the forest floor.
With a groan, you rolled over in bed, wanting to cling onto sleep a bit longer. But when you almost fell out of bed, you took that as a sign it was time to get up.

Swinging your legs out of bed, you stood and rubbed your eyes as you stumbled blindly out of your room, almost banging into the wall as you did.
Somehow you managed to get yourself to the bathroom, and ran a hand through your hair as the other cracked open a water bottle
and splashed the cold water onto your face. That seemed to restore some of your sight, and your (E/C) eyes fluttered open finally.

As they did, you got a good look at yourself in the mirror. You sighed deeply as you palmed your face, pulling and morphing it before dropping your hands and raising your eyebrows at yourself.
You certainly didn't feel 18, even if it was your birthday. A day that you hated more than anything, as it also marked the anniversary of when you were abandoned. But you tried not to dwell on it too much.
Snatching up your toothbrush, you squeezed some toothpaste out of the tube onto the bristles and ran it under some water from your bottle.
Then you stuck it into your mouth and began brushing as you wandered out of the bathroom into the rest of the cabin.

It wasn't much, but it was yours. Technically.

The cabin you had used to find shelter on that dreaded night had become your home, and after nine years, you had certainly made it look that way.
'Borrowed' furniture and your various art pieces littered the home, ranging from knitted blankets to paintings on the wall. Over the years you had picked up multiple different medias of art, becoming skilled in painting, knitting, embroidery, drawing, all of it. It made up for the lack of education you had.
Despite your efforts to make it your home, you had never had electricity or running water, but you had lived without it long enough for it to not be an issue.

You found a way to keep living. You were a survivor, and that was clear.

Once you were done brushing, you found your way back to the bathroom and spit into the sink, tipping your bottle over the bristles again then set both down by the sink.
Then you headed back into your bedroom, changing into some baggy, washed out jeans, beat-up black converse, a (F/B) black tank top and an oversized, black zip-up hoodie.
You grabbed up your crossbody, canvas bag and slung it on your shoulder, then reached down and scooped up a black plastic bag that contained your laundry for the week.

"I need to piss..." You muttered to yourself as you opened the front door, slamming it behind you.

Locking the door, you then began moving some heavy planks in front of it to deter anyone who stumbled across your home. You were quite a strong girl, you needed to be anyway, so keeping your door boarded up wasn't exactly a chore.
Then you ducked behind a bush to relieve yourself.
As you finished, you looked up, taking in the sight of the weak sunlight filtering through the branches and autumn leaves. Taking a deep inhale of the forest, you let the cold air fill your lungs until they strained, then exhaled, feeling the tension in your body relax slightly.

"Okay, time to go..." You whispered under your breath, lugging your things up the hill and cutting through the trees.

It wasn't uncommon for you to talk to yourself, you actually did it a lot. Mostly because you never spoke otherwise, considering you had been fending for yourself since you were only little. It unnerved a lot of people who would pass by you, but you didn't care.
Once you got to the road that cut through the forest, you followed it for about fifteen minutes until it finally broke past the forest and into town. Taking a quick glance both ways, you scurried across the busy road towards the laundromat, clutching into your laundry a bit tighter.