Play Thing [Coraline+Insane!Reader]

2 Scratches on Fabric 2

You were in a house. It wasn't yours but it was one similar to the dreams you've been having in the past. You must have been able to sleep at some point, how else were you able to get here?

The house was peeling and had a grayscale paint job. It looks like somebody lived there, though every time you came to this dream, nobody was there. To be fair you did go when the lights were off.

This time, however, was different. As usual, the windows were lit from the inside with pretty colors reminding you of the bright-colored pills your mom tries to get you to take. Inside you could see shadows move across the bright windows.

You walked up to the front and opened the door to the seemingly abandoned house.

There you saw a tall woman walk around. She was skinny, metal clanged between her spider-looking legs, and her face was cracked. Black tears rolled down her cheeks as she slaved away doing something to her face.

You crept closer making sure your footsteps were quiet. The woman dropped whatever she was playing with and you were able to get a good look at it.

It was a black button with four holes in it tangled in a web of string. It was a tack job, strung up as if the person couldn't see what they were doing. She went to pick up the item and turned her head ever so slightly. From her peripheral vision, she was able to see you.

But she didn't have eyes, rather she had one button sewn haphazardly on the side of her face and another piece of string leading to the button on the floor.

You took a step back as she stood up to get a better view of you. Her body was mangled and Twisted in uncomfortable ways. Out of curiosity, you took a step forward reaching out to touch her. She took her hand out and lightly tapped your fingertips. Her hand was also made of metal, and you could see her face light up with what seemed to be hope or excitement.

Without a warning, she grabbed onto your wrist and pulled onto it. You tried to fight back but every time you moved, your wrist would get slashed by her pointy fingers. Scratches appeared on your arm and your mind filled.

You shook, hoping to get loose from her grip. She was extremely powerful compared to you, as she was able to keep you in line with only one hand. Your eyes closed and when you open them back up you saw your father holding you down.

You were shaking in your sleep like you were having a seizure. Your father held your head and tried to prop you down. It was a common procedure and started worsening recently. Your head rolled back hanging off the headboard. Your nerves calmed, muscles relaxed, and you were able to see your birth giver clearly. He laughed in a strange but nervous mannor, before screaming hard enough to spit on your face.

"Jesus, you had a manic episode in your goddamn sleep. Or was that to just get my attention?"

He collapsed onto the floor and you peered over your bed to view him. He looked like he was going to cry but that moment never came.

"I had another dream dad-"

"Don't you ever realize that you can scare the crap out of us sometimes!?"

He sounded desperate, but he wasn't listening to you. It was almost like he didn't realize you said anything. But as soon as he did he looked up at you with a questioning look as if you were stupid.

"Are-Are you even listening to yourself ?! You can't even take the medicine out of the car and here you go talking about bad dreams, you're 12...Act like it "

You jumped down and sat next to him on the floor. Sticking your hands out you showed the scratch marks.

"There was a lady, she tried to take me away. She has long sharp spindling fingers and scratched my arms."

Your dad kneeled down and looked at your hands. You wanted him to hold them gently, but knowing both yourself and your father he was going to end up ripping your arms off to get a better view of your wrist.

In comparison to your mom, you got the majority of your 'mental problems' from your father. One moment he yells and the next he coddles you. You got your mother's 'emotional problems', but that's not something you wanted to think about.

You could see that when he moved his hand, your blood would trail off on his fingers while dribbling to the floor. They weren't that deep but for some reason, your father acted worried.

"Y/N have you been feeling okay? Are the pills making you sad, Is that why you don't want to take them? You know doing this to yourself isn't going to help."

"You think this was me?"

You started gripping onto your skin but it wasn't helping your point. The only reason you did this; was because you knew there was no way to persuade him. He was probably just going to ignore you and make you somebody else's problem. Ringing up a new Therapist for you to terrorize. Therapy always made you feel happier, but brain-dumping onto a government official was not always a good thing. Especially since you didn't like the CPS workers any more than your own parents.

He smiled. His smile seemed fake. As if he was only there to fix something like you were a broken vase he needed to put together. But you weren't one to judge a fake smile.

He pulled something from behind him.

"Mommy found this in the lost and found at work. We thought it looked like you so we took it. If you ever feel like your therapist doesn't understand you, you can talk to this."

He set the small doll down on your lap. The corner of his eyes teared with the constant mood switches he endured. You knew your dad was something like you but there was just something off in his mind that stopped him from becoming you completely.

The doll had button eyes the same color as yours. Its hair was made of torn yarn. Which would be normal if you didn't consider the clothing choice. You could shrug off the identical eye and hair color but the clothes were what ticked you off.

You wore black rubber gloves to keep your fingerprints off of potential murder weapons. And weirdly enough there were Black blotches on the end of the doll's hands.

Your clothes were also unique. No matter what you wore, it had to have buckles because zippers and strings could potentially hurt you. And there on the doll was the buckled clothing style you like to wear.

You turned your head to see your dad smiling at you. The doll was nice but you didn't know what to do with it. Leaning on to your father you thought about what to do.

'Maybe I could put it in a blender with a bird or something ?'