Descendent of a Survivor (BENDrownedXReader)

Chapter Twenty-Five-"Move On"

 I'm fifteen. I've been for a few months. BEN came around after Christmas and thanked me for the game. A lot of other stuff happened, but I don't really remember. 

Right now, I'm just scrolling through a fanfiction. I've gotten into creepypasta fanfiction and it's pretty hard to get out. I'm interested in this one where a girl is a murderer and runs into Slenderman. The wording and how it was written makes me cringe a little, but the plot is pretty good. Monica's back early. Her bruises still haven't disappeared, though. It's just the first time in a while she's been back in the late afternoon instead of late at night. She doesn't look exhausted, but she looks like she has been crying. 

She sits next to me, rubbing her eyes as she turns on the TV. It shows a man's corpse. He seems to have been choked and burned to death. The same as Granddad. BEN did it again, didn't he? 

"C-Can I tell you something, (Y/N)?" she asks. I nod. "I've been with someone else."

I look over at her, peeling my eyes from my phone. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask. 

"Well, I knew you wouldn't be excited about it, and we've been with each other for a year," Monica answers. "I was trying to find a good time to tell you." 

A year? She's been with some other person and never told me?  

I try not to look angry, but it's a bit hard. She's been with some random guy. I'm not angry about that. Only how she didn't tell me until today. That's infuriating. I try to keep a smile on my face. 

"I just thought I needed to move on. Besides, Andrew was a nice guy," she continues. Before she could say another word, I walk out of the living room and to my room. 

I don't cry, I only think about what she's said for hours on end. I do need to move on, but there's too many things surrounding Mom. I need to figure those things out before really moving on. Those two words echo in my mind, always in the back, for the whole day. BEN isn't here, so I don't have anyone besides Monica to talk to, until I hear a knock on the window. 

I push the curtain away and see the outline of a familiar nineteen-year-old. It's dark, but I can see his goggles. I open the window and let Toby in. 

"Hey," I say. 

"Hey," he replies, instantly walking into my closet. 

A few minutes later, this boy I don't recognize climbs in and asks me if I've seen Toby. I just shake my head and he leaves. I close and the lock the window, since that moment is already weird enough. Toby walks out and thanks me for covering for him. 

"Who the hell was that?" I ask. 

"H-He's been chas-sing me all nigh-ght," he answers. "I th-think his name is-s Don? I dunno. H-He looks like a D-Don." 

This has been happening for a while, one of the creepypastas I know hiding out in my room for a few hours before leaving. BEN's normal, but when Jeff comes in, I question if he's a living tornado or something. This is Toby's first time hiding out. 

We just treat it like a normal visit, and then I open the question. 

"Should I move on?" 

"Hm?" 

"Should I move on?" 

"F-From what?" 

"Well, my mom's death." 

"All-l the pastas kn-know about that."

"Should I move on, though?" 

"In my-y opinion, it takes some-me longer than others."

We continue the conversation, I don't know for how long, but it's dawn by the time Toby leaves. 

"Don't fo-orget that, alright?" 

And just like that, he crawls out of the window and vanishes.

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Word Count: 634