Psychic (Creepypasta fanfiction)

Chapter 28

This is my Christmas gift.

"Are you going to write another cheesy scenario?"

"Maybe..."

I smiled to myself as I wrote the last words of the page. Although my fingers hurt for having to write a million words in one day, I was satisfied with the finished chapters.

Chapters. I should make up another term for that.

I turned my head to the girl in the mirror, who grimaced at me.

Probably watching the things I wrote happen.

Should have made Connor write it for her.

"What was the point of making her fight what's-his-name? I'm sure Jack could have handled it by himself." I asked.

"For the sake of remembering." She says. "The younger ones, aka kids at the age of 16 and below are required to drink pills that would make their jobs easier. It makes the kids more calmer and more obedient, and they would never think of lashing out on the workers. And apparently, it also causes loss of memories."

"So, it's a pill that would stop the workers from abusing them? Wow, I thought that they were cruel and merciless." I remark.

"They are. When Kira and Tempus--"

"Why not use their real names?"

"I mean, when Lana and Lewis were old enough, they started using harmful ways on their tests. They tried electrocution once."

"What made them stop?"

"When Lewis snapped and killed his guardian."

I noticed my lips curling, but I never bothered to take a look whether it was a frown or a smile. It doesn't really matter what I think of him.

That kid was long gone, I don't think pitying him would even affect him. Besides, I'm in another world, how could he see me?

"How are you doing?"

She sighed, her shoulders moving as she struggles to get out of the handcuffs. "I'm fine."

"Don't you think it's pointless that you have to be handcuffed?"

"This conversation is pointless." She said, pursing her lips.

"It's because I'm bored!"

"Then, go back to writing." She said.

Writing.

Writing gets kind of boring at times.

I used to be enthusiatic about writing, but now it feels like forced labor. Why was I picked for this job, anyway?

I'm starting to rethink my whole purpose in this world. Again. Now I'm gonna end up being one of those emo kids in books, who stay up at night and stare at the ceiling, thinking of their purpose in this world.

How dramatic.

Why do writers use that scenario all the time? I mean, if they wanted to write about a depressed kid, why don't they make them stare at someone and not an object that's over your head?

No offense writers.

No offense.

It's like saying it to myself.

I never thought that being in my own head was annoying.

"I'm gonna take a break." I informed her, taking the book and placing it on Connor's desk.

Speaking of Connor, where is he?

I just asked for a milkshake and he's been gone for two hours. Wait, how long does it take for you to make one?