You Won't Wake Up: A CreepyPasta FanFiction (Watty's 2014)

Who Said You Were Human?: Sally's POV

We never did tell Slender. Call us evil, tell us that we're idiotic, but it won't work. He won't listen to us anymore, and if we try and say anything again that he considers out of line- well, we all know what he can do. And besides that, with three days left until the trial, what we're we expected to do? It was shrugged off easily, and we simply waited, with halted breaths and tapping feet, for the trial to start.

And the trial is starting soon. The TV glows with static, as Ben patiently tries to explain how he knows the police won't come back to this house. But, as ever, his patience starts to wear thin as Jack refuses to believe him.

"How can you be so sure? That there's not gonna be any policemen who will just so happen to barge in and try to arrest us again? I don't exactly plan on teleporting without a fight." Jack snaps, as Ben just rolls his eyes and begins to fiddle with the TV again. I shrug, and go back to the couch, noticing the large claw marks in the fabric, the stuffing popping out, obvious signs of a not so friendly Smile Dog.

"Finally." He sighs, as the TV clicks onto a filled courtroom, a low grumbling occuring place as I spot them, seated around a large table, the not as familiar sight of Maylin Kuang, who leans back in her seat, coolly, half smirk tilted on her lips. Ben settles onto the couch, near me, as Jill simply leans against the wall, Jack sprawled out on the couch, hand covering his mouth.

"Why isn't there sound?" Jill asks, as a man begins talking, but no sounds match with his moving jaw.

"I don't know." Ben sighs, and stands up, and carefully moves the TV forward, and messes with the wires behind it, and disappears. The video playing on the TV remains, as the static noise reverberates, pounding against my head, refusing to let go.

Thirty minutes pass, of the judge talking, and people seems to responding. Just as the sound slams on, loud, almost too loud, then Ben reappears.

"I think they're calling witnesses to the stand." Ben explains, looking at the screen. He settles back onto the couch, next to me, hat in hand.

A man stands up, his face cold, his word articulated as he faces the middle aged woman sitting behind a large brown pedestal.

"Now, Mrs. Kennedy, what's your husband's name?" His words are devoid of feeling, a blank slate, something you have to decide the feeling off.

"Jeremy." She answers, coolly, her chin raised high, too high.

"Your daughter?"

"Amelia."

"And your son?"

"Richard."

"Now, your husband, daughter, and son all died on April 5th, 2008. Now, what were you told caused their deaths?" He asks, his eyebrows raised in a fake attempt at expressing a caring expression.

"I was told that my husband was stabbed twenty seven times, in the chest and neck areas, my daughter was stabbed forty-eight times, and my son was stabbed thirteen times." Her voice is straining to remain calm, as I notice their expressions, as blank as the lawyer's. Then I notice it, an ever so present smile tilted on Maylin Kuang's face, as she listens to the conversation.

"And what were the circumstances? What were their bodies like when recovered?"

"My son and husband were stabbed. My-" She takes a deep breath, and no longer looks the lawyer in the eye. Her gaze is drawn to the large table, seeking someone out. Then, her smile crumples, as she notices it. Her eyes lock in a gaze of utter rage and pity as she manages to draw Jeff's stare. He gives her a slight smirk, as she continues, "My daughter had her eyelids burned off, and her cheeks were cut. Her- she had- so much blood on her face."