❝ 𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞. ❞
: ̗̀➛ in which mikey keeps on seeing the same girl in the cemetery every time he visits his deceased brother.
⌗ 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
⌗ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭...
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TW: mentions of blood, suicide, and contains gore
"We can't do that." A woman's voice can be heard from the second floor of their house.
"We don't have a choice." A distressed male voice replied.
A loud thunder roar filled the whole house as the storm gets heavier. As the two adults talk at their living room, a girl with (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes is sitting at the end of the stairs listening to their conversation.
(Y/N) is an extraordinary girl, too extraordinary. Her mindset and actions scare her parents but the girl didn't really care and continued her own business.
She enjoyed her peculiar actions. It only affected her anyway. So, why would she bother with other people's thought. She did what she wanted and it's not like they could stop her.
It was the 15th of October, 1990. The girl that sat on the stairs loved the number fifteen. She had an unexplainable attachment to it. This day was supposed to be good; it was her favorite number after all. But it seemed like things just went south that day.
The girl didn't want to keep on listening to their concerns and decided to go to her room. Tucking herself in bed, tiredness slowly devoured her system until the (H/C) fell asleep despise the loud noise the heavy rainfall made.
The night is falling, the storm passed, and a new day is rising.
Upon standing up, she noticed changes inside her room. Her mirror, table, and other things. It seemed like it wasn't her bedroom anymore. It really wasn't.
Her usual room color turned into a dirty white and the only thing that can be found is a bed which is glued to the ground and cannot be moved.
After processing what really happened (Y/N) rushed to the door and tried to opened it but failed, It's locked.
She tried knocking on the door but to no avail, no one answered.
The knocking soon turned to slamming. She was kicking, yelling, and bashing at the door telling the people on the other side to open it.
With one last slam, she turned her gaze to a small window that was just beside her bed.
She moved the white curtain that covered the opening and looked out only to see her parents talking to someone wearing a coat, whom she assumed was a doctor.
As her parents saw them drive away, they turned around and looked at the window where their daughter stood, looking at them with a deadly piercing glare.
