Descendent of a Survivor (BENDrownedXReader)

Prologue

BTW this is the mother (Y/N)'s POV

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(Y/N) looks up at me, with a great smile on her face. She almost looks like me, but with some of Monica's details. I remember when I told her I wanted a kid. She said she wanted the kid to call her by her real name so there isn't a confusion. (Y/N) always seems curious about the failed stories I wrote, more than the ones I published. I guess she got the love of horror from me. 

I always see her have a big grin at bedtime, when I get to a gory part of the story I always tell her. The real story, not the one with the characters switched out. Madame's is still the same, so is Soccer. I guess he's sort of dead now, but I honor his memory with the violent stories following a fictional Soccer. He still can't be replaced. He's one of a kind. He saved my life, I can tell you that. 

I start the story, remembering to start with Mom's story of being in that special place after Grandad's death. She taught me how to make that ripping sound. And I'm teaching (Y/N) how to do that. That's the sound that satisfies us, a heart being ripped out of a dead man's chest. I get to the part where I'm living with Bethany and her parents, and then introducing Gerald. I wonder how she never gets tired of that story, perhaps the gore? Perhaps the family monster? 

I transition to the time I see Ben, or BEN as he's really called, for the first time. Then to the part where he and his friends go to my place of work, I'm surprised the enterprise is still surviving, and how strange they were. Toby was pretty much standing out just as much as Ben's other friend, Jeff. I remember what they look like, and then I compare them to the photos that are boxed up in the attic. I still have everything, it's just that I never show anyone. It's too fucked up for a child. I'll show her when she's sixteen. Yep. Show her creepypasta photos on her birthday and say they're real. Definitely won't make Monica freak out. 

I finish the story after an hour, finishing up with a few added words and kiss her goodnight. She doesn't have Mr. Jacks with her anymore, she said she's a big girl. I can tell she still uses him sometimes, right when Monica and I say goodnight, she pulls him out and snuggles up to him. I remember how she doesn't have a friend at school, but a few imaginary ones. At least she isn't lonely, if she has me, Monica, and at least one friend, real or imaginary. I'm not going to get up in the morning and order her to make a friend. I don't control her life, she's an eight-year-old, she can make real friends if she wants to. 

She told me about one of them once, a ghost girl with a paper bag covering her head. She described in as much detail as possible. A limping girl with blood sometimes running out of unbandaged wounds. She had these antennas, two, one for the right side and one for the left. They were glued on there and seemed to be soggy from grease or something. Hair doesn't emerge from the bag, so the girl is either bald or has shorter hair than most at her age. The girl would also wear a dress or really nice attire when visiting. That all came from (Y/N). She's getting my writing as well. I see her sometimes in the study, scavenging failed manuscripts of stories I either lost inspiration for or fully lost interest in. 

Sometimes, I catch her faking reading a regular book and reading one of the published ones, or the manuscripts. The series with Soccer in it, I rarely see her reading them. Usually, it's more of the ones with the paranormal and so much time spent in them. She sees me spend days to make two chapters in those, to make them perfect. The ones with Soccer, they take me two hours to make a single chapter. 

And yet I cut my work in half to spend more time with family. 

I walk into the hall, pull the string, and climb up the ladder. It gives me so many memories from the old days, before I met Monica and when I knew BEN as a friend. What did he want me for? I always wonder that. I almost trip over myself but catch myself with the wall. I start coughing, not from the dust, but from that sickness I've been hiding from them. I tried to fix it with secret visits to the doctor, but they just said it'll get worse from there. So here I am, my lungs hurting and feeling like I'm going to cough them up. 

I get the missing poster of Bethany and start writing on the back of it, making sure to pour as much of my heart into it as universally possible: all of it. I make sure to tape the poster back on and turn back around. That blurred face of him on a body of that video game character. I just walk past the abomination, close the trapdoor, and go to the bedroom, where Monica is already asleep. I drift off, remembering what I said to (Y/N) earlier. 

And that's how I ended up with a wonderful you. 

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Disclaimer: Any names or events are purely coincidental.