Eyeless Sockets [Creepypasta x Blind!Reader]

Chapter Eight~Horrifying Thoughts~

Crying never helps anything, right?

Yet people say it lifts so much weight off your heart. That it makes your worries escape along with it.

Yet when you cry, the sadness overpowers hope. It makes your worries get bigger and bigger until they make your heart and mind explode with negative emotions and pain.

It makes you feel like ripping all your skin off.

It makes you want to end the curiosity of what death feels like to feel better.

It makes you want to embrace pain.

Right?

You simply hate crying. You hate the feeling of being weak. While it is refreshing, it reveals weakness and strength at the same time, both words being used depending on who witnesses you crying.

Strength for not fearing to show emotion. To lean your head against someone, letting all your worries slip from between your lips and-

Why are you talking about crying anyway? It's a useless verb.

You don't enjoy hearing the word, so why think about it?

Remembering everything going on levels lower than your life, towards the hole for your own grave, feet deep below the surface and normal activities.

A tear slips down your cheek. Small laughs fill the small room, and soon it is filled with even more laughter. Not at the insane level, no. It's just you laughing about how damn pathetic your mind is. How much you hate thinking. How much you hate yourself. Your mind, your body, and your soul.

Is showing all this useful at all though? You doubt it.

You're not the Suicidal teen, the boredom just gets to your mind at times. It Tests the emotions you show. As if you have a gray body controlling each and every part of your body. Your mind, heart, entire body, actions, emotions. Everything.

You honestly wish you'd die to feel actual emotion for once.

You want to feel pain inflicted by another.

You took the knife given to you by Sally and stabbed it into your leg to stop the thoughts. You wanted to inflict more pain, but you'd just lose too much blood, although the need to break every single bone in your body was stronger than ever.

The laughter stopped, but the bleeding continued. The way the blood was staining your clothes fascinated you. The cut wasn't too deep, and you waned to do more damage, but got interrupted by your older brother entering the room with a cookie in his mouth and headphones on.

He saw you, gave you a look you know very well, and laid onto his own bed.

Snowpuff wasn't with him.

You sighed in slight pleasure as you slowly took the knife out of your now injured leg, and went to the bathroom to treat the stabbed wound.

Tears were falling though, and you could swear you saw clawed hands pointing over at your figure, as if to mock you. You grinned where they were at and finished bandaging your leg.

You still felt the need to break some body part of yours. God, the feeling is indescribable. It's so damn tempting, although you never do anything because of the awareness you have.

Harry knew about everything. He was aware of how your mind worked after your parents had died. It's still similar to how it was in the past, although now you'd think in an even darker way than before.

You also began to wish you could break every single bone in your body.

You remembered you had to do the laundry in a while.

Walking out of the bathroom and out of your room, you began making your way towards the room in the basement where the washing machine was, and began doing all the laundry.

And holy fuck, there was blood all over the clothes. The stains were annoying to get off, and pink would just linger around the location of previously fresh blood if not washed enough times. You thought that washing everything by hand would go by faster and nicer, but you were too lazy to do so.

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When you had only one more round of clothes to wash, Jeff came inside with a basked full of clothes.

You groaned and continued washing clothes, while the company of a certain killer and his snickering was pissing you off the whole time.