Slenderman x Reader

Journal #6

Dear journal, I fell asleep in the kitchen after Ben got me a drink. I didn't drink it, or even open it because I passed out.

Journal I never want to sleep again, well real sleep anyways. With dreams and such. I can't do it if that awaits me every time I actually get 'restful' sleep.

I'll only write these horror's once. My dream, or rather nightmare consisted of the past. I'm assuming before I ever met these people. Before my home became cancerous to me.

It started off with the last day of peace in my home. They day of my 13th birthday.  The day I got my first sketchbook and nice drawing pencils. The day I also went into the woods by myself.

Everything was nice until I left the house in rage. My brother I could hear still throwing a fit over not being able to join me to the woods, he hadn't been either not that I knew of.

When I entered the woods everything turned dark, stormy, and most noticeably, threatening. I went to my future usual spot, the boulder. Climbed it, sat down and started to draw. I then saw what reminded me of that shadow I saw outside my window that one day. 

I screamed. I was only thirteen of course. But I ran after that. I ran and ran until I burst into the house. But it wasn't my house anymore, and I wasn't 13. It was about two years ago. Before I mysteriously disappeared and now recently appeared and disappeared.  That's when the house turned cancerous.

My dad was glaring. And what was once midday was now early morning. I was now sporting a cut along my face that was bleeding terribly. He yells I don't hear words. Only static. I know he was yelling about my late night habits.

Mom comes out of their room screaming at him. My brother comes out glaring and yelling at me. I know he called me a whore. I remember that.

And the it goes fuzzy, loud static blaring through my ears. Yelling, pleading, screams of terror. And a black and red hand with claws starts caressing my face in a loving manner. But it only creeps me out. And I hear a deep, rough voice that says, 'remember me darling?'  And the. I wake up in my room.

Journal this is the most I've ever written to you, and the most I will ever write again.

I was visibly shaking after writing about that nightmare. To most that dream was a lowly nightmare. But for someone who barely remembers their past and only recalls the most recent and horrible home life.

Letting out a shaky sigh I got up and left my room. I'd holed myself up in here for awhile. Trying to write the most riveting journal entry and the most detailed. I don't know why. I mean I know I now want to keep the journal to remember. But I know I dot want to remember the horrible family I left behind.

The only person that wasn't completely horrible is mother. But I know eventually she will crack under my father's relentless screaming and threatening to forget about his whore daughter. If only he truly knew. If only he'd truly understand if he did know.

Now walking aimlessly around the hallways I look at the pictures that occasionally garnish the bare walls.

Some are lovely detailed paintings that look like they've been bought from a store. And then others are group shots of the people living here. Some are silly some are more serious and there are a few that look like early pictures. Before they were turned into killers or like wise.

And then in one hall, drawings litter the walls. All framed, all done by the same person. And that said person was now hanging a picture very low on the wall.

Smiling I watch. She then turns around and let's out a squeak.

"(Y/n)! Don't do that!"

I giggle.  "Sorry but I was just admiring the wonderful drawings."

She blushes and nods. She then looks me in the eyes and beckons me to follow.

"Where are we going?"

"My room silly! We're gonna draw. I wanna show you how since you seem so interested."

I nodded even though she couldn't see me and I smiled widely following the small blood stained girl to her room to draw.

I was excited. This is almost the most activity I've had with anyone here. And honestly I love children more than people around my age. They're so much easier to deal with! And so very adorable!

Eventually we made it to her room. We drew lots of pictures, we sang Disney songs, even watched a few movies and eventually I fell asleep along with her on the floor.

I only know this because I woke up on her room with her cuddled to my side. Of course I moved her to her bed, tucked her in and turned the light off and left. It was almost morning though I doubt she'd be asleep much longer.

Sleepily walking to my room I passed the hall with all the pictures she drew and saw one of me. I of course was a stick figure with a skirt so you'd know I was a female. My name was crudely written above my head in green crayon.

And the words 'mommy' was in parentheses next to my name.

That struck a cord deeply. I almost started bawling. I was this girls mother in her eyes, and I don't remember anything about her. Not her age, not her birthday, hell I just learned her name a few days ago!

The worst thing is I don't even know if she knows that I don't remember her. I mean to these people that are living here their friend that they held close to their hearts most likely just disappeared and didn't come back for a long time. And now I'm here and I haven't the slightest idea of who any of these people are.

These thoughts alone make me want to cry. This whole situation makes me want to apologize to them. But I still have no clue if I truly did just walk out of their lives and forget them.

How I truly forgot is a mystery, and I won't apologize for something I don't even know that I did. My prides too much in the way for that.

As I look at the pictures my vision goes blurry as I fade out into sleep. A ritual I'm all too familiar with at this point.