The Girl in the Attic | Creepypasta x Reader

Chapter 4

Slenderman's tentacles instantly dropped you, making you land with a loud thump as you doubled over, coughing desperately. It felt like a part of you had been ripped out of you, leaving you empty and cold.

Clutching your chest, you looked up desperately for an explanation, but Slenderman had already disappeared into thin air.

-

After you had recovered from your coughing fit, you sat up, your hand still clutching your chest as you tried to understand the sudden empty feeling inside of you.
As you did, you felt Dr. Smiley's gloved hand on your back, giving you a small pat as you recuperated. Instantly, you looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowing as you expected an explanation.

"You'll get used to the feeling," Dr. Smiley comforted you, his gloved hand rubbing up and down your back, "that was your soul. He keeps them to make sure you keep your side of the deal."

"W-What? My soul?" You questioned, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Everything about this situation was difficult to wrap your mind around, and it made it worse that it had all happened in the span of ten minutes.

"My side of the deal? W-What do I have to do? Do I have to steal shit?" Your voice was weak, the lack of soul making you feel drained and tired. But your mind was running at a million miles per hour.

"...It's not that simple, love," Dr. Smiley replied, his deep voice soft as he looked down at you with pity in his eyes, "What he meant by unfamiliar was... well, you killed someone. He wants you to do that. A lot."

Dr. Smiley continued speaking, clearly trying to comfort you and make the situation less daunting, but it was hard to listen after being told you had to murder people in order to live.
His voice faded out as you stared down at your hands, almost able to see the blood you had on them when you killed your attacker.
If you felt guilt from doing that, you were unsure on how you would be able to handle doing it again. Sure, you used to rob people in order to survive, but this was different. This was robbing people of their lives, just so you could live.

"Y/N," Dr. Smiley gave you a gentle shake, and you looked up at him slowly, your face pale, "you won't have to for a few weeks... and the lack of soul makes it easier. It makes you less... sympathetic."

"Alright," you replied dryly, unsure of what else to say.

This was your life now, and you were going to need to learn to live with it.

After a bit more of explaining, you began to understand the system a bit more.
Slenderman had a 'deal' just like yours with each Creepypasta in the house, except proxies. Despite him proposing them as fair, majority of the time they were not. Most Creepypastas existed before him, found by his proxies and brought back to him. But a few others were made by him, either accidental killers like you, or innocent people he had stalked and driven insane.

And you were just another victim to the system.

Each Creepypasta had an 'origin' story, a short horror story posted to the internet to make you appear fictional, so your signature murders could be taken as 'copycats'. You were given a few weeks murder-free in order to let your story circulate, then you would be tasked with your first hit.
While based on real events in your life, unfortunately you didn't get a final say in anything, and would need to live with whatever the Slenderbrother in charge of your story decided upon.

"If you get injured, come see me and I'll patch you up," Dr. Smiley assured you, handing you a pile, "get changed while I find you a guide."

When the doctor left, you stood and examined the clothes he had given you. They were the ones you wore previously, but had been washed free of the blood and dirt. Despite that, there was still a few blood stains on your shirt.
Shuddering slightly, you got changed quickly, and was tying up your converse when the curtain was suddenly yanked back again.