How The Angel Fell: Ghost Face x Reader (DBD)

The Nightmare

"Shit, shit, shit!" I breathed heavily, my lungs were burning but my feet weren't stopping. I ran so fast, my shoes were slamming against the ground so hard it felt like I'd die if I stopped.

I would die if I stopped.

Red scratch marks left a trail behind me and on the tree trunks around. If I ran, a trail was left behind. I didn't care about the scratch marks anymore. I huffed and my body begged me to stop but I kept going. I ran past bloody meat hooks and pumping generators. All in the pursuit of getting away from this psycho chasing me.

Don't look back. Just keep running.

A whimper left me, everyone was dead. I was the last one.

A survivor.

A spark of hope welled in my teary eyes when they spotted the exit gate. I told myself over and over not to look back but as I was metres away from the gate, I still looked back. What I was running away from was gone. I paused, the environment stilled. The scratch marks dissolved into the ground and I slowly looked around. Where was I? It was like, a 'realm', of sorts.

A pained gasp shot out from me as a sharp pain erupted from my back. I threw my head back and let out a shriek of agony. A cold knife twisted itself into my spine.

He found me.

My eyes ripped themselves open and stared at the bedroom ceiling. My heart felt like it was gonna burst out of my chest from how fast it was beating. I laid there still in my bed, not bothering with the dramatic jolt up from a nightmare like how you saw in the movies.

Just a dream. Just a dream. Just relax. Not real.

It felt real, like a flashback or something. But it was so strange.

Why would my brain come up with that? 'Scratch marks' and hooks and generators and—!

Something moved through the darkness of my room. My wide eyes ripped away from the roof to the white blur across the room. A soft breeze flowed through the air and it was then I finally realised that my bedroom window was open. I had locked it and everything before going to bed, but now the actual windowpane itself had been taken out of the frame and propped up against the wall. My stomach sank.

There was someone in my room.

A hooded man traced his gloved fingers against my trinkets and other stuff around in the dark. He seemed fascinated. I didn't waste any time as I shoved my hand under my pillow to grab a pocketknife I had been hiding. My fingers wrapped around the handle and yanked it out from under the pillow. I finally sat up from my bed with all the adrenaline in the world pumping to my heart. The man whipped his head back to look at me in shock. In the night's darkness, I could make out the white blur of his face that was covered by a ghostly mask.

The Ghost Face.

I screamed and ripped the sheets off my body, starting towards the open window. The Ghost Face had other plans. The killer grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me away from the window. I wailed bloody murder but his gloved hand latched itself over my mouth. I screamed and thrashed and kicked. I gripped the pocketknife tightly and waited for the right time to strike him. The Ghost Face backed away from the window with my back pressed flush against his front. His strong grip yanked the blade out of my grasp and threw it to the floor.

I sobbed against his hand and desperately clawed at it with my nails. Tears streamed down my face as the Ghost Face wrapped his leather clad arms around my body and held me close. It was almost like some kind of twisted embrace.

A pang of déjà vu hit me.

"Shh, shh, shh." The Ghost Face cooed in my ear.

I sat crosslegged on the pavement, silently staring off into the night. The soft breeze struck at my spine which caused a chill to run down it. The cold urged me to wipe away the old tears that were slick against my cheeks, but the grip I had on the blanket that the police gave me was too tight around my shoulders for me to even think of letting go. I didn't even look at my neighbours as they walked up to my house. Policemen had raided it, looking for evidence.

I got the urge to start rocking back and forth, and just whimper.

The red and blue lights of the police cars illuminated my glassy eyes as I sat there, on the pavement, just staring.

"Whelp, there's no Ghost Face here now. You're lucky to be alive, you know?"

I slowly looked up at the policeman who stood before me, hands on his hips.

"Why didn't he kill me?" I tried not to start crying again.

"I don't know. There's been bodies all over town tonight." The cop replied.

I looked back off into the distance. The police kept searching through my house, trying to find something—anything.

Nothing.

I shivered a little and cuddled closer into the thin blanket around my hunched body. A sigh left me as I watched the police before me. A new pair of footsteps approached and stopped next to me. I saw a pair of black men's shoes but I didn't look up. The initial shock wouldn't let me. I heard the man exhale and then a click from a camera. The flash aimed for where I lived, police cars out front. I finally looked up to see who it was.

Danny.

"I'm gonna catch the Ghost Face, and I want you to help me. You in?"

I stayed silent as he stood next to me, us both just watching the cops. Danny slowly sat down, me taking note of the camera slung around his neck. The journalist looked at me curled up in the blanket but I didn't look back. He sighed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders in an attempt to comfort me. I didn't react to Danny and stayed silent for a long time in an effort to overcome the immense shock I was feeling.

"Let's do it."