Note:

This chapter contains vulgar language and slight gore, be prepared!

In the last chapter (Chapter 71, She's here) You could choose whether to shut the door or help the little girl. If you didn't choose just yet then go back to chapter 71 and choose.

If you did pick your decision then consider all of the above not written and go on with the story!

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You decided it was best to stop and shut the door. Even though these cries broke your heart little by little, it wasn't a smart idea to go outside, in the sight of all the other killers and help a potential murderer with something you didn't know.

It could be a trap and then what?

Your rational thinking took the upper hand and you were thinking of reasons not to go. Reasons that showed you it was a trap and that you had to be careful. Reasons that made you believe you had a free ticket out of this mess.

Your heart told you to go but your mind screamed at you not to. And right now you had to listen to your mind. Repeating Jeff's words over and over again in your head you gave a deep sigh. Even if the young girl wasn't a killer like Jeff had said, what could you possibly do for her?

Jeff wasn't fond of her already, so bringing her to your room wouldn't be such a smart idea. Jeff might tear her down right on the spot. Also, don't you think it's a little peculiar that she appeared in your dreams and now suddenly is outside your room crying?

Maybe your mind is really playing tricks on you?

You slowly turned around, checking if the door was really closed properly. You had no means of locking the door, so you had to do with this and hoping the young child or any other killer hadn't seen you. Even if it was only to soothe your mind.

You walked over to the bed and placed yourself down onto it. You felt just horrible for ignoring her, for leaving her crying like that in the hallway. But as you have said before, this whole situation was just too peculiar to be a right one.

You tried so hard to convince yourself again, going through every little detail that might portray this little girl as a potential killer. That would show you that you indeed made the right decision and had to leave the child be.

It seemed as if the cries slowly became louder, as if they were roaming in your own mind. As if the little girl was lying in the bed next to you. Confusion washed over you as you turned your head toward the door. Oh, god you hoped she wouldn't be coming closer.

Or even worse, coming in!

You didn't want to close your eyes, afraid that she would come back in your dreams. With the increasing of the sound you started to get scared little by little. This wasn't normal, was it? Was she really getting closer?

By now you heard the sound clear. It was too clear for her to be outside of your door. It was more like she was crying in your ear, crying inside your own brain. Was your conscious blaming you? Was it coming up because you refused to help a small child?

A daughter of a happy family, whose parents are desperately searching for. Crying every night because their lost their only light, because they lost a thing most precious to them. Mother isn't eating, father isn't sleeping.

Ugh! Stop! You turn your body, digging your head in a pillow to drown out your own thoughts, in order to get rid of this doom scenario that is playing in your mind. Why can't you think of something else?

You try, looking outside, trying to count the clothes on the floor... But it doesn't work. Your mind is constantly pulled back, constantly dragged towards the terrible vision its displaying. You didn't know what was going on. It all didn't seem real... As if you were...

In a fantasy world.

Father loses his job because of the stress. They lose their house, they lose their home. They lose every stuff which reminds them of her.

Of their only little precious girl.

Damnit, stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop! You now sat up, slamming the pillow against your head to smack those thoughts out. Your mind couldn't stop. It is as if it's been controlled by someone else, as if this is a movie you're forced to watch.

You try to stand up, to go to the bathroom, do anything to distract your mind but your body won't comply. You can't get up, you can't stand...

The thoughts keep getting louder, a faint sniffing audible in the background. What the fuck was happening to you? A throbbing and painful headache was slowly creeping up and now you had to close your eyes.

Your breathing became heavy and you noticed your pulse was reverberating through your mind. You could hear it clearly, the fast and steady pace in rhythm with the cries.

You thrashed your body again, inflicting pain on it by hitting your wounds, even going so far as to reopen them, grabbing your scattered hand, slamming your head... It doesn't help. The movie continues.

Mother can't take the heat, she can't bear the pain and suffering anymore. Feeling the warmth of the dad's hand once more as she let herself slip back into darkness. Father is broken with grief, trying to stand only for his little girl but who says she isn't with mother?

He can't stand the madness, he can't stand the life he's living anymore. People don't understand, they don't know. They don't want to know. Father loses his temper, loses his mind. Taking a few people by the hand as he leads them, together with himself towards his wife.

Only to find that his little girl isn't there yet.

STOP!

"PLEASE STOP!" You yell out loud. Throwing your head back and feeling the tears streaming down your face. You want to get away, you NEED to get away! You wished someone would make it stop, get you out. You wished Jeff was here. You begged that Jeff was here.

You needed his presence, you needed his twisted form of safety. You needed him to pull you out of these thoughts, even if that meant breaking your bones. You needed someone to hurt you, to manually ram you out of your own thoughts. This pain was worse than any physical pain you had felt, seeing the lifeless bodies of the parents displaying constantly.

What was happening to you? Why would you suddenly see these images?! What was going on inside your mind? Was it because you turned down on helping this child? Was she doing this to you?!

The movie played again, every single detail perfectly displayed in your mind. You rolled over, out of the bed yet the pain didn't distract you from the foul images.

Fuck! Someone, please help!

You pulled your knees to your chest, your hand grabbed your head and pushing hard on it. 'I can't hear, I won't hear. I can't see, I won't see. Just stop... Please...'

Just stop.

~~

It had been hours... At least it felt like hours... You had no idea exactly how much time had passed, but it didn't matter anyway. Your body and mind were completely exhausted. You had become numb to the images, recognizing and remembering every detail.

You were staring at the ceiling, not feeling anything anymore. The movie was still going on, but it didn't hurt as much as before. It was a trick of the mind. Dried up blood was staining your upper lip and chin, a small puddle formed underneath your head.

It literally felt like your brain exploded and the remains were flowing out from your nose.

You now knew for certain that Jeff was right. This girl was indeed very dangerous and you thanked him for warning you about it. But you thanked yourself more for not giving in to the crude and saddening images and storm out of the door.

It is what she wanted, it is what she had planned. But you didn't give her the satisfaction of killing you. Not right now. Even if that meant you had to go through this torture, even if that meant your brain had been severely damaged.

You didn't give up just yet.

You were wondering when Jeff would be home, if he could get you out of this horrifying prison your own mind created. But you had to wait.

It was the only thing you could do right now. You didn't have the strength to stand up, you didn't have the strength to get in bed. You could only stare at the ceiling and drown out your thoughts. Drown out the movie which was looping in your head again... And again.... And again...

Why was she doing this?

Why was she torturing you endlessly while any other human would be 1000 times easier to kill? Why you?

Even thinking about it caused an extreme headache. You were so extremely tired but you'd be damned if you went to sleep. She would haunt you there 10 times worse than she did now. You were so fucking certain of that.

Taking in a deep breath you decided that you had to do something. Anything to give your body and brain some rest. But you had no idea what that something could be. Lying around here and waiting for Jeff wasn't the best option either.

For all you know he could be gone for another 6 hours, and then what? Were you going to cry like a little baby? Being overthrown by your Stockholm syndrome that you missed everything about him? When did you ever need him anyway? He only caused harm, several times.

He was the whole reason you were in the forsaken place, why would you want him at your side?

How much you tried to convince yourself it didn't work as good as it did before. You were so reliant on Jeff... And that was the whole problem. He knew what was going on and why you were the one being targeted. Or at least, it felt that way.

He knew why this little girl wanted you so badly, and what to do in order to stop it.

The pain... It was unbearable. Groaning slightly, you slowly rolled over on your side... And then immediately on your stomach. Your hair fell, getting stuck in the small pool of blood underneath you.

Damn, this was some heavy shit.

You slowly tried to lift yourself up by your arms, but you failed miserably. You didn't want to get up. You only wanted to rest right now, only close your eyes and sleep. But you couldn't... You mustn't give up, you mustn't let yourself be caught...

You didn't...

You couldn't...

You...

Your eyes shot wide open when you felt tremors in the floor. Your body reacted heavily to it, your alarm bells going off like crazy. You were completely awake and ready to react.

Without hesitation, you turned your head back, the adrenaline giving you new found energy. Your eyes widened in terror a you saw that the door was wide open, black tentacles creeping inside the room and closing in on you.

Before you even had the time to react one of the wrapped itself around your ankle, giving a harsh tug and shoving you roughly over the floor. You reacted by screaming loudly, trying to dig your nails into the floorboard until your fingers bled.

Trying to get a hold of anything that would keep you in the room, but you failed miserably. Not comprehending what was going on you were dragged outside, your tender skin scraping over the old and rotten wood as you were dragged further.

You kept on screaming, you kept on struggling but there was no way to get loose. Nothing was in this corridor which could provide as a grip, which could provide as a stopping mechanism. You got a hold of the door frame as the tentacles were trying to drag you down the stairs. You had a slight hunch where they would be taking you.

Holding on to the door frame with your one hand as if your life depended on it you felt the tentacle pulling harder. You heard your bones creaking in protest, your muscles screaming because they were slowly being torn apart and your wrist dislocating.

Fuck fuck fuck!

You felt the blood and adrenaline creeping through your veins, sweat slowly forming on your forehead as you felt your hand slowly getting more slippery. Your eyes widened, trying desperately to throw your smashed hand into the game as well, but the door frame was too far to reach.

Your hand slipped and you screamed even louder as the tentacle dragged you downstairs with no mercy. Your body was bouncing off each step, giving you headaches and making your sight blurry. In a last attempt to get loose you held onto the banister of the staircase.

Again, the tentacle was pulling extremely hard. But you couldn't let go! Your hand was still slippery from the sweat and you knew damn well that sooner or later your grip wouldn't last as well. Please! Don't let go. You squeezed your eyes shut and ignored the gruesome pain of the pulling. It felt as if you were on a torturing device.

Your skin was stretched further than it was supposed to, reopening old and recent wounds. You could literally feel the tearing of the wounds and almost feel the blood flowing out of it. Then, suddenly, you fell to the ground roughly and the grip on your ankle disappeared quickly.

Astonished and dumbfounded of what was going on you heard a soft voice, almost whispering in your ear:

"RUN"

You didn't need to think twice as you scurried up and shot up the stairs. Ignoring the pleas from your body, you kept on running. You didn't even dare to look back, you didn't even dare to turn around only to see the tentacles still chasing you.

You needed to keep running! Get somewhere safe before you're caught again. Your breathing was heavy, your heart pounding twice with every step you took and the sweat rolling off your forehead. What the fuck was happening?!

You blasted through the door and into the hallway, you just kept on moving. You didn't need to know that anything was behind you. There was no need for a reminder that you were in grave danger. Clenching your fist you tried your best not to falter.

Each step was like walking on glass.

Then, suddenly, you saw a hand shooting from a room. Without stopping it grabbed your arm roughly, squeezing it tightly as you were nearly flown into the room. You fell down head first, rolling over a few times before your body came to a halt against something hard.

You heard a loud slam and then some heavy breathing.

Your mind was extremely dizzy and your stomach tumbling like a vending machine. Your lungs were burning badly and you had to gasp in order to get oxygen. You tried to look, focus on where you are and what had dragged you inside the room.

You could only make out some white and black, but you knew the combination. The silhouette turned towards you and you recognized those fiery eyes from miles away.

Jeff had returned.

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Congratulations, you choose right!

IMPORTANT NOTICE.

Please read.

Well, I don't really know what to say right now. I've been apologizing for being late many, many times before but never really gave a solid explanation for it other than 'I was busy'. It wasn't that this explanation wasn't true... It just wasn't completely, a hundred percent honest.

I think I'm going to explain this from the start. Please just read the entire thing, you guys deserve an explanation.

As all of you may have noticed my updates have been... Terrible. Where I used to update 4-7 days have now become 4-7 months. I used to continuously brush it off by saying: 'I am busy, I have a lot going on, etc.'

This is all true. I have been extremely busy these past two years. I'm in my last year of my nursing degree now, meaning I'm doing my clinical practice for 20-22 weeks. During my clinical practice I don't only work regular nursing hours, but I also have to deliver several essays regarding my functioning at the workplace, assignments I have to do next to all the other assignments for the other subjects at school.

Now don't think I'm trying to make excuses or that I'm fishing for your sympathy. I just want you to know that I was legit busy and that my spare time was extremely limited.

However, that wasn't the main reason why I didn't update.

I have been writing this story for like... 2 years now or so? I don't even know. When I started this story, I was extremely excited for it. Having written all the way up to where the reader got kidnapped when I published the story gave me a solid base, some sort of buffer.

I wrote for this story every single hour of my free time, getting excited with every new idea I could come up with. When I didn't have time to write I would publish the chapters anyway, because I had a buffer, more chapters written than I had published.

It was the reason for my frequent updates, that and the fact that I ADORED writing for the story. I dreamed about it, I linked every single exciting thing to the story and it was the main focus of my thoughts during school lectures.

When life got busier, I used more and more of my buffer and I couldn't manage to keep up with the updating pace. It was still okay though, because I wrote a lot for the story during my free time. That and the fact that most commenters pressured me into taking my time writing the chapters.

Quality before quantity.

Anyway as time progressed something happened to me which I was fearing most of all. I have seen it happen to tons of stories, I've seen it happen to tons of writers... But I'd be damned if it happened to me.

And fuck me senseless, it did.

I lost interest in the story and the fandom.

I couldn't admit it, I didn't want to admit it. I started blaming my busy schedule, blaming my body for being tired. I convinced myself that after playing an hour of this game or after going out with my friends, I would write again.

But it didn't happen.

Don't get me entirely wrong. I can't blame everything on losing interest. I had so little free time that, instead of writing, I wanted to spend it differently. However, I used to spend it on writing, even if it was so little. But I didn't do it right now.

The worst part of it all was that I was so extremely ashamed of it. I told you guys one thousand times that I want to finish the story. This is because I know the endings! I have literally written all of the endings out and I can't wait for you guys to read them!

But... I didn't want to face the fact that I lost interest in the fandom and the story. I would be afraid that you guys would think I wouldn't finish the story and leave it. So I continued on writing whenever I felt like it.

Let's get one thing straight, I never forced myself to write for this story. However, the feel and need to write for it, the excitement to write for it became less frequent, thus explaining the long gaps in between the updates.

There would be nights when I suddenly wanted to write for it, and then I would write.

Eventually, six months ago I realized that it was a bad idea to continue on like this. The fun was almost gone entirely and together with my education I just couldn't force myself to like the fandom or the story more. I promised an update within a week but... I couldn't force myself to write.

I was done writing and I was done caring for it.

So what I did was...

I took a break.

During this time I didn't think of the story. I didn't think of the fandom. I merely continued on with my clinical practice, reading stories from other fandoms and just relaxing the way I wanted to relax.