Stanley Paraleble fanfiction | they/them reader.

Chapter 7. Welcome Back Y/N...

You slowly opened your eyes and you found yourself lying in a completely white room.

You tried to sit up but felt a sudden pain in your head, as if your brain was trying to piece together something.
You had a feeling like you had just woken up from a dream that you can and can't remember. Like something was interfering with your mind.

It hurt to think.

You looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

The room was completely bare, with no windows or any other exit other than a white door.

The walls were a blinding white, making it hard for you to focus on anything for too long. You just felt like you wanted to close your eyes and never open them again.

You let yourself fall back down. Your head hit the soft white pillow. You look up at the ceiling.

I don't think that I have ever been in a bedroom without a single window.

As you tried to remember how you got there, a sharp pain shot through your head.

You winced and put your hand to your forehead, trying to ease the throbbing ache.

You tried to recall anything about the Narrator, but every time you did, the pain only intensified.

You turn away from the door to your other side.

You just really felt like sleeping until you heard the knocks on the door.

You slowly turn to face the door again. Your mind was so quiet. The room was quiet and you could even hear your own calm breathing.

You slowly get sitting straight up. You look at the door.

You felt like you were drunk but you were not. Like you were slowly losing balance to the point where you'd black out and hit the concrete.

You sighed and stood up. Black dots filled your vision.

Jeez..

You continued not moving on the spot, waiting few seconds for these to disappear before you stumble towards the white door.

Your legs feel like they belong to someone else.

You open the door and see The Curator, her expression unreadable.

"Y/n, my dear, how are you feeling?" she asks, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

"I don't know," You reply honestly without any intention to do so, your voice slurring slightly.

"I feel like I'm not in control of myself." and again you say something unintentionally.

The Curator smiles, a knowing look in her eyes.

"That's because you're not, Y/n. You're under my control. But don't worry, it's all for a greater purpose."

You try to resist whatever it was, but your body feels heavy and unresponsive. "What purpose?" you ask, your words slow and dull.

"Your purpose, Y/n, is to help me achieve my ultimate goal. And to do that, I need you to do something for me."

"What do you want me to do?"