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the-freckle-game-is-strong-blog · 8 years ago

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Letting Off Steam (Creepypasta)

(Ahh, I’m so happy I rewrote this story, it’s like puberty hit it or something. It is vastly better… Downside, finding a writhing format that looks nice either tumblr’s allergic to indents layout is hard)

Delilah Van Grahams was a worrisome woman. Rightly so, many would agree. Her eyes carried more bags than an airport, luggage from her long nights without rest. Every night she had the same routine. First she would tell Riley it was getting late. Despite being sixteen she still needed some coaxing to see herself to Bedfordshire. Then she would come downstairs and stick the kettle on before plonking herself down beside the phone. Sometimes the television would be on, the volume stuck on a dismal five as if anything louder would make her miss a phone call but usually it was not on at all.

She tried not to stress. It was not good for the baby, or so she had been told. Her fingers drummed idly on her four month bump. There was quite an age gap between Delilah’s two children. One sixteen years, one merely sixteen weeks. She had, admittedly, had Riley quite young. Not a teen mother or anything of the sort, mid twenties but youthful enough that she could still now bare more children. Both by the same man, Rylan Blackwood.

Rylan was not the stereotypical idea of the perfect partner. They had never been wed, citing that it was unimportant but finance also being an issue because of reason two. Rylan was unemployed. He had worked dozens of jobs over the last eighteen years of their romance but fate had been cruel and he had never been able to keep a job longer than a few months. Mostly because of his last habit; vanishing.

Rylan had, for as long as Delilah had known him, disappeared. He did this every so often. One day, without warning, he would just take off. He could be gone for less than a day or even months. She would hear little to nothing of him, sparse text messages and occasional letters- If she was lucky. Then when he returned, he could never explain himself. He claimed to genuinely remember nothing. Doctors had suggested some form of selective amnesia but had never been able to provide more than theories.

This was one such instance. Rylan had been gone for weeks now. As usual Delilah had reported his absence to the authorises. As usual, they had not rung her back with the victorious finding of her partner. No. The first few times they had sent out search parties but by now, they had come to the conclusion he would find his way home on his own and that, in fact, this was a cruel trick. He was actually seeing some other woman and this was an elaborate coverup. Delilah scoffed. She knew Rylan better.

While the idea that this had happened countless times before and he had always come home safe reassure her somewhat, it did not totally ease her. No. She continued to wait, anxiously hovering by the phone in case of a call. News of the man she regarded as the love of her life.

“ Mum? ” Riley’s drowsy voice caused Delilah to jump, having not expected her daughter awake. In her paranoid focus on the phone, she had failed to see her entering. She smiled softly at her. The apple of her eye. Dressed in a fluffy pyjama set with just one slipper.

Riley reminded Delilah very much of her father. Her hair for example. At the roots and tips of Riley’s hair where the infrequently and self applied blue hair dye was weakest her natural hair colour was revealed. Ginger, a true redhead, like her dad. She had his freckles as well. Dotted all over her face, torso, arms and legs. Like thousands of tiny blotches of colour splattered from a paintbrush.

That being said, a lot about Riley was clearly inherited from her mother. She shared her skin tone with her mother rather than father. While Rylan was quite pale, Delilah was truly albino and had passed that on to Riley. Her skin was more than milky, like untrodden snow. There was also the matter of her eyes, another of her maternally inherited traits. They were glassy like a low quality gem one might find in cheap jewellery. The lilac tinge to them was soft and only visible in certain lighting. They were odd, yes, but not unheard of for those who suffered albinism.

“ Riley, what are you doing? It’s two in the morning, ” Delilah asked, getting up from her seat with an awkward rock before throwing her weight up. Getting around with a baby bump made even such mundane tasks a nightmare. Wordlessly Riley crossed the cold living room floor, her one slipper squeaking slightly. Lifting up a blanket she had carried from upstairs, she draped it sweetly over her mother’s shoulders.

“ Go to bed, mum, ” Riley insisted after a moment, her voice laced with her Scottish accent, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. Delilah sighed before smiling at her.

“ Sweetie, I can’t, I need to watch the ph- ”

“ Why? Does it do tricks? ” The teenager sassed, quirking a brow. “ Go to bed. There won’t be any phone calls tonight, or any other night. You know that. Dad will come home whenever it suits him.

” I- “ Delilah opened her mouth to protest before swiftly realising that actually Riley was right. She had been doing this for years and there never was anything. The fleeting rings she did get fell into the daylight hours. ” … Alright… “ She agreed, some sense having seemingly been talked into her by her daughter. Riley flashed a toothy grin, showing off the gap between her front two incisors, at the sight of her mother relenting and shuffling back to bed.

” Where have you been? “ Riley’s voice was bitter, laced with venom as she looked over across the dining table, spitefully digging her fork into her chicken nuggets. Delilah turned to see Rylan looking over at them from the doorway, lingering there. His clothing was a mess. Holes and patchwork littering them. He was unshaven, unlike his typical baby face. The bandaging around his arm suggested it had been injured. Not as bad as a break but worse than bruising. A sprain, perhaps?

"Rylan, ” Delilah got to her feet, dropping the plastic baby spoon she’d been using to feed Blossom- The newest addition of the Blackwood family. She gurgled and laughed as she threw her pot of baby mush onto the floor.

“ Dee, ” Rylan responded fondly, rushing forth to pull her into a hug. Delilah felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. When he hadn’t turned up for Blossom’s birth, she had been broken. Surely, sick or not, he understood how important it was? He had been there when Riley was born. Late, yes, he had turned up late and Delilah had already been in full blown labour by the time he turned up to the hospital. He had looked like someone with a vague idea of what Rylan should look like, but had never actually seen him had tried to recreate him from scrap materials. Yet for all he had looked homeless and messy he had been there. This time he had not.

“ Uh, hello? I asked you a question, ” Riley cleared her throat, shoving aside her plate and getting to her feet. Riley was tall, especially for her age, standing at 5'9 which easily dwarfed Delilah but still she fell short of her father’s 6'2.

“ Hey, ginger snap, I missed you… You’ve dyed your hair, ” Rylan comments, walking over to his elder daughter, lifting a hand to take a lock of her choppy hair in his fingers. Riley pulled away briskly.

“ Don’t touch me. Do you have any idea of what you’ve put mum through? Where the fuck have you been? ” Riley demands, her glassy eyes glaring holes in her father.

“ Riley! Language! ” Delilah scolded. Truth be told, she didn’t actually mind Riley swearing. She was an adult, near enough. Who was she to dictate what she could or couldn’t say? But this was her father!

“ No, no… She’s right, let her shout, ” Rylan relents, waving off Delilah’s protests.

“ Damn right I’ll shout! You asshole! Not only did you miss my birthday for the eighth year in a row but you weren’t here. You weren’t here for Blossom! What if something had went wrong? Touch wood, what if? ” Riley snarled, pointing a finger at him accusingly. This seemed to strike a nerve with Rylan.

“ Don’t you go there young lady, you know fine well I can’t co- ”

“ ‘Can’t control it, I’m ill, boo-hoo. Feel sorry for me’ is that what you were going to say? ” She asked, her face scrunched up unattractively, conveying the full extent of her disgust.

“ Oh, you ungrateful bitch! One day you’ll understand and then you’ll… You’ll…. ” Rylan trailed off, pacing, silently fuming.

“ Both of you, stop it! ” Delilah snapped as she rushed over to comfort Blossom who had started to wail.

“ Me? Ungrateful? You’re the one who can’t even get over this stupid amnesia, teenage runaway bullshit for the sake of your family! You’re the ungrateful one! I’ve been here, looking after mum and Blossom. Where the fuck have you been? ” At this point the argument had transitioned to a screaming match. Riley’s voice was even scratchier than usual- She’d suffered from infant coeliac as a baby and it had scarred her for the rest of her days with a particularly shaky voice.

“ I said both of you, sto- ”

Thwack!

Before Delilah could get any further, she let out a gasp. Rylan growled, rolling his shoulders tensely, his fist now balled to his side. Slightly red but not as red as Riley’s left cheek which he’d just smacked. A bright handprint blistered on her skin. Tears began to stream down her face. Delilah was shocked, her stomach churred. Rylan had never lifted a hand to any of them.

“ …I think you should leave, ” Delilah spoke, her voice hoarse, hardly believing she was sending him away just after he’d turned up. Rylan turned to her, blood boiling.

“ Fine! Whatever! I wouldn’t expect you to understand either, ” He snarled, making Delilah jump. Sure they’d argued before, of course but never had he sounded so… Sincerely hateful. Stomping off, the front door slammed behind him. His figure was visible out the window as he stalked off into her street before taking off at full sprint while Delilah cuddled a sobbing Riley while cradling Blossom on her hip.

She loved Rylan but enough was enough.

“ Riley, I know you’re going to your dress up party thing- ” Delilah was cut off before she could get any further.

“ Oh my god, ” Riley exclaimed. “ It’s not 'dress up party thing’, mum, it’s a steampunk convention, ” She corrects, as she adjusts the bow tie around her neck before moving to fiddle with the strap of her goggles.

“ Ah, right, ” Delilah responded, trying to understand. Admittedly, she did not but it made Riley happy and she had not seemed to smile in so long. Things had be rough for the family recently. Riley had been such a great help with Blossom, she was a gem of a girl, so if dressing up a little weirdly not and again pleaded her? Delilah would not stop her. “ But I need to pop to the shops and Blossom’s asleep. Do you mind watching her? ” She inquired.

“ Sure, I guess, but don’t take ages, ” Riley agreed, moving over to look at herself in the hallway mirror, sticking out her tongue thoughtfully before setting her index finger and thumb using her lips before using her spit to flatten down an unruly strand of her hair. Which almost instantly popped back up.

“ Alright, I won’t, ” Delilah agreed, however inevitably time would get away from her.

Upon returning home an hour later, Delilah instantly knew something was wrong. She was not sure what as of yet but it hit her like a truck. Some primal sense that there was something amiss in the home. It sent shivers down her spine, the hairs on her neck standing on end. Yes, she was sure of it, something was very definitely wrong.

Dropping her shopping bags in the hallway, she took a few steps deeper into the house and began to fully understand what the matter was. A nauseous scent clung to the air. Coppery and metallic in nature. It was weak but still made Delilah want to be sick.

“ Riley? ” She called out into the house, her voice echoing. No answer. While the three bedroom semi detached house had felt snug and even claustrophobic in the past it was now a vast mansion and she was calling uselessly into the west wing. That was unlike her daughter. She never ignored her. She clicked her tongue. Was she angry because of how long she had taken at the shop? Delilah wondered, before returning to the previously abandoned shopping bags to lug them into the kitchen

Upon reaching the kitchen, she dropped the bags again. They clunked heavier this time. A white pool began to form around the plastic bags suggesting the milk carton had burst with the force. It pooled in the cracks between the tiles but that was the least of Delilah’s concern.

The kitchen was a complete mess. Utensils were strewn out everywhere. Thrown here and there. Cupboards flung over, a forlorn box of cornflakes was tipped over the side, its contents on the worktop below. Of course there was only one person who could have done this but Delilah could seldom believe her darling daughter, who had been so much of a star these last few months, could do such a thing.

“ Riley! ” Delilah hollered, anger brewing up in her as she began to replace items such as broken bottles and discarded canned food. Among the mess was her sewing kit, spools of thread all thrown around but still there, apart from the red one. Riley had borrowed that for restitching a skirt a while ago and had never returned it. It was probably still in her jacket pocket. However, something else was missing too. Her dress making scissors. She could not see them in the kitchen either, they were easy to spot, being so large. Nearly nine inches long. Not to mention the bright plastic blue handle.

It was only then occurred to Delilah actually, what if they’d been broken into? She could not see any clear point of entry but that did not mean it had not happened. Fear set upon her again, overcoming her like a tide on the beach before she rushed for the stairs to check upstairs for any further damage- And for her daughters.

This was when the smell began to get worse, encroaching on her sense of smell, causing her to gag as she pressed on. What was that!? It stunk to the high heavens and the house certainly had never had any such pungent odours before she went shopping.

Her feet, which were bare now having toed off her shoes and socks when she had first got home, made contact with something aside from the carpet of the stairs. It was soft. Squishy. It was rounded before it popped under her weight and a lukewarm fluid was released underfoot. She stopped to look down, confused for a moment as to what it was. A white circle mashed into the carpet, with a grey ring and a little punk tail… Was that… An eyeball? Delilah screamed as the optic nerve tickled her toes, causing her to lose her footing, going tumbling back down the stairs. Her head collided roughly with the floor and she was out in seconds.

Upon waking up, Delilah groaned in pain as she feebly sat up. She could feel a warm liquid on the back of her head and neck. Blood she assumed, she had likely split her head open from the floor. She was surprised she had woken up at all. Even small head wounds could be fatal… But there was something else. That copper scent from earlier was stronger and now it finally dawned on her. It was blood. She could smell her own blood matting her hair but earlier on it had been the same- And she had not been bleeding then.

Remembering the eye, the first thing Delilah did was throw up. Her body trembled as she turned to empty the contents of her stomach onto the floor. No way she imagined it. That had been someone’s optic nerve. The familiar grey colour suggested who to her- But she could not consider that. She refused to believe it.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she got to her feet to look around. That in itself was hard. The room was incredibly dark. All of the curtains and blinds had been shut, banishing the natural sunlight and the lights were out. She stumbled to the light switch- Only for nothing to happen. Someone had killed the lights. She was not naive enough to believe a power outage was a mere coincidence in a time like this.

Rushing instead to the front door, she rattled on the handle but no luck. It was locked and when she searched for the keys on the table in the entrance way, where she always put them, they were gone.

As the panic and confusion began to set in she frantically checked her pockets for her phone- To provide contact to the outside world or even just a light. It was gone.

Turning to the curtains, she yanked on the nearest ones. They put up some resistance. On closer inspection it seemed they had been duct taped to the wall but the adrenaline made her strong enough to pull the curtains free, tearing the wallpaper the tape was attached to in the process.

It was dusk now and there was very little light outside. The stray beams of half sunlight, half moonlight that filtered in only very slightly illuminated the room and only the half that was nearest the window. Yet that was enough to terrify Delilah.

Covering the walls were red handprints, like a macabre mocking of mischievous children. Delilah knew what it was but it made it easier for her to block it out and think of it as red paint, as frightened tears soaked her face. They were everywhere, apart from one area. One space on the wall had been left be. Instead of handprints, a haphazard drawing of some trees had been inked there. It was messy, clearly done with fingers as the main applicator. Hidden among the cluster was a tall man, drawn as willowy as the woods around him. He wore a suit and lacked a face.

Delilah had to get out of here. As weak as she felt right now, she threw herself at the window, banging on it trying to shatter the glass before another thought caught up to her. In her hysteria she had forgotten about her daughters. Her breathing hitched in her throat.

Turning around, she tried to collect herself. She did not know what was going on but if there was even a slim chance her girls were alive in this twisted mockery of what used to be the family home, she he had to find them.

“ Ri… Riley? ” Delilah called into the darkness. There was no point calling for Blossom, she was just a baby, she couldn’t respond. For a moment, there was only silence. And then there was a whimper from somewhere above her, a broken cry.

Without another thought Delilah raced to the abyssal ascent that was the stairway. Thoughts of the disembodied eye clouded her conviction for a moment. Mayhap it would be safer to escape? Run to the neighbours and call the police first? But no, she decided, by then something dreadful could have happened. She needed to get upstairs.

Gathering her courage, she began the climb, taking the stairs slowly. The light from the window did not reach this face and she was staring into endless shadow. She tried to avoid stepping on the eye again but devoid of light as it were, it was impossible. She flinched as the ball of her foot touched the moist residue, most of the fluid had dried into the carpet but it made it no less disgusting. Her head felt fuzzy and she pressed on before she could repeat her fall from earlier.

Delilah felt breathless as she reached the top, despite having climbed a mere twelve or so steps. The stink up here was worse, more concentrated. She had to heave for breath, panting, unable to take air through her nose. The aroma of awful was just too much to bear. Her lips felt dry. Be it due to using her mouth to sustain her lungs or do to the horrifying reality of her situation.

The first room she came to was Riley’s. The door was slightly askew and opened all the way with a slight creak of protest but it was too dark to see anything. “ Riley? ” Delilah whisper-shouted, but the only sound she could hear this time was her own laboured breathing.

Somewhere behind her a light came on.

Delilah flinched instinctively before spinning to look behind her. Squirming under the tiny cracks in the closed doorway, it shone like a halo around the door but the guiding silhouette did nothing to calm her. How was that light on when she had already checked that the power was out?

Creeping closer to the door, she could feel her heart hammer in her chest. Her footfalls on the creaky floor sounded like an avalanche and she was frighteningly aware of how obvious she was. Whoever, or whatever, was beyond that door knew she was here. Tears streamed down her face, ghosting her lips and leaving a salty taste. Why was she putting herself through this? Her common sense screamed to run away as fast as her jittery legs would carry her but she could not. One thing was more important than her life.

Her daughters.

Fear could only restrain her so much when her mother’s love was called to action. Delilah did not typically consider herself to be any braver than the average person but she did think she had more to lose. Maybe it would be more sensible to make a break for it and have the authorities deal with it- But she fell into that age old trap of refusing to feel helpless. She had to be the one to do something. She could not trust anyone else with the safety of the two people most important to her.

Her hand hesitated, hovering just above the handle before grasping it; the metal cold in her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if it made any difference in such dim light. With a small amount of force she pushed the door open. It swung easily round to tap against the wall, giving a whine of protest. As it peeled back to reveal what lay beyond, Delilah became aware of a soft dripping noise. Like a leaky tap.

At first she was not sure what she was looking at. On the floor lay the unrecognisable tangle of… A baby doll? One of Blossom’s toys. Its form was twisted, legs forced up behind it over its shoulders, while one of its arms was missing. Its little pink dress was destroyed, now barely scraps of material hanging from its form. Her hair had been chopped off and littered the floor around her. Red thread had been wrapped around its plastic body. A flashlight was positioned beside it; the light source.

“ What the fu… ” Delilah trailed off, unsure what this morbid display before her was supposed to be. She drew closer, paranoia growing. It was just a doll, she told herself and she needed that flashlight. Bending beside it, her hands shakily grabbed for the light, her nerves making her grip weak and the torch slippery. It took three attempts to pick it up.

She felt breathless, her chest growing tight. Her knuckles turned white, holding the torch with an iron grip. Suddenly she became aware of the dripping noise again. Delilah whimpered and jumped backwards, snapping to turn the light of the torch in the direction of the noise with a swift motion. There was a speck of ooze on the doll’s near bald head. A red spot that slowly began to droop and run down its lifeless face. She hadn’t noticed it before because of the poor visibility and the red thread, but there many similar splotches.

Drip.

Suddenly another hit the plastic skull.

Drip drop.

Another two. Slowly Delilah shakily turned her torch upwards. What she saw made her shriek like a banshee, wailing in a hysterical mixture of terror and disgust. More tears hit her face, splashing off of her face to the floor. Her flashlight hit the floor with a loud thump, the force separating the head from the body, the batteries escaping their prison and killing the only light she had. In the darkness it would be impossible to reassemble it.

The image was seared into Delilah’s mind, like an imprint of the back of her eyes. The room light had swung back and forth, the light shade having been removed. What she at first thought was a red rope had been twisted around the light, lowered down to another dismembered doll. Wrapped around its little neck and torso. Like the other an arm was missing but the legs this time merely hung limp, pointed to the floor. The hair was matted but remained in place. The stomach had been slashed open and an eyeball was missing from its porcelain face. Then Delilah came to the horrid realisation.

It wasn’t a doll.

Seeing the tiny corpse strung up by its own intestines, Delilah felt the bitter taste of the lining of her stomach bubble up in her throat before retching. There was only one person such a petite cadaver could belong to… And to accept that would drive Delilah off the brink into insanity. It was much easier to pretend it was another broken toy.

Somewhere in the darkness, someone laughed. An evil, brutal cackle that echoed off the walls, carrying its malice. Like a hyena fresh from a kill. It was only then that it occurred to Delilah that flashlights cannot be turned on remotely, yet it had been turned on while she was just outside and there was only one exit to this room.

She was not alone.

Scrambling around in the light emptied room, desperately searching for the parts of the torch on her hands and knees, she cursed herself for being so stupid. Her hand frantically brushed over a battery which she snatched up.

However then something collided with her face, hard, knocking her to her back as she let out a cry. Then like she was suddenly on an operating table, a bright light was shone in her face, temporarily stunning and blinding her. Her attacker chortled again. The flick of a switch sounded and the light was gone, leaving her in terrifying darkness. The message was clear. She was not to look for the torch.

They were toying with her, Delilah realised, panting.

For a moment she paused on the floor, gathering her bearings before pushing herself to her feet. She hesitated for a second, waiting to see if another hit came. Nothing. She struggled, rushing forward and bumping into the wall. Slowly she inched around the room, using it to guide her to the doorway which she eventually found.

Out in the hallway she could see the glimmer of light from the window downstairs. The thought that the outside world still existed beyond this madhouse was somewhat comforting.

There were only two other rooms upstairs. Her and Rylan’s shared bedroom and the bathroom. She could not think for the life of her why she would go to her bedroom at a time like this when the bathroom, with its perfectly good lock, was an option. She could have ventured downstairs to break the window and follow through with her original plan but fear derailed any logical train of thought. Her primal instinct to shelter herself somewhere secure and wait for the storm to pass, as unlikely as that was, won out any other wishes.

Finding her way to the bathroom with the help of the downstairs lighting and the wall, she stumbled in. She slammed the door and swiftly jammed the lock shut, bolting out the outside world- But that included the small amount of light she’d had.

Flinging her body back against the door, she gasped. For the first time in hours she felt a sliver of safety. Her breathing began to steady to a regular pattern. Her adrenaline began to waver, bringing attention to the stinging feeling on her cheek and the throbbing at the back of her head.

Squeak!

Delilah flinched. What was that? Searching for any possible source of the noise, trying to keep calm whole she determined whether it came from outside or in the bathroom.

Then there was light. Not like before not a bright, dizzying spotlight to the eyes. A lighter. Just a little flicker of fire. Then another. A tea light, just bright enough to return Delilah’s minimal sight. As her panic began to set in again, the first thing she caught sight of was the bathroom mirror and her own dimly light face. A bright mark adored her cheek, the pattern making it easy to guess it was from the bottom of a boot. A gift from her attacker earlier on.

Then her gaze snapped to the source of the light. Lounging in the bathtub, waving around a tea light in one hand and rubber ducky in the other, one leg hanging out of the tub was her daughter. Still clad in her convention outfit. Her top hat was squint, pushed to the front of her head, her goggles holding it up from tilting any further forward and falling.

“ Fancy a bubble bath? ” She inquired, her grip on the bath toy tightening slowly to release a long, depressed squeal from it.

“ Riley! ” Delilah exclaimed in an whisper-shout. “ What are you doing in there? ” She asked, while Riley gently rocked the foot she had hanging out of the tub back and forth. As if she had not a care in the world.

“ …Having a bath? ” Riley responded nonchalantly, throwing the rubber duck to the other end of the bath and setting the candle down on the edge of the bath before getting to her feet. Her boots thumped on the floor as she hopped out. “ What else am I doing in the bath? ” She asked with a voice full of attitude.

“ Because- ” Delilah began loudly before lowering her voice. “ Because for a start you’re fully clothed and two, there is someone in this house trying to kill us, ” She said, placing her hands on Riley’s shoulders trying to shake some sense into her daughter. Even for as odd as her girl could be, surely she could grasp the gravity of the situation?

“ Well, yeah, ” Riley’s response came with typical teenage boredom. Like a nineteen year old trying to explain the Internet to their ageing parents.

“ What do you mean 'yeah’? ” Delilah responds, fussing. “ Did they hurt you? Are you alright? ” She asks, her hand moving down slightly and catching onto something sticky on her daughter’s outfit. Her shirt was wet and the red colour was only barely visible in the dark. “ Oh my god- Are you alright? ” She gasps, as the half dried blood clings to her fingers.

“ Huh? ” Riley responds looking down before flashing a grin. “ Oh? That. Don’t worry. It’s not mine. ”

Delilah was engulfed in emotion for a moment, first relief that Riley was safe. Then confusion, who’s blood was it then if not hers? And then finally, the horrid realisation hit her.

“ …No! ” She gasped, as she staggered away from her daughter, grabbing frantically for the lock. As she struggled with the small bolt, Riley snickered behind her. With a great exertion of her remaining strength Delilah managed to force the door open, at the cost of slicing open the skin on the the side of her hand open.

Delilah whimpered as she rushed out of the room, shaking her now blooded palm as she rushed into the hallway, the warmth of her needed fluid spilling out against her skin causing her to shiver. As she bolted for the stairway, she glanced behind her for a single moment. Riley stood there, in the doorway of the bathroom, candle in hand having retrieved it from the edge of the bathtub. Her maniacal smile was barely illuminated in the dim light. She raised her opposite hand and pinched the wick with her index finger and thumb- Extinguishing the light. Plunging upstairs into darkness once more.

Racing downstairs, Delilah stumbled in her haste and gravity did the rest, causing her to slip forward and rather ungracefully descend the stairs for the second time today. She landed on her front this time, winding herself, knocking the air from her lungs. She wheezed, panting as she crawled forward, her nails scratching the floor as she drove herself forward to the wall. Tearing the handprinted wallpaper as she tried to return to her feet, she cried out, as a pain shot through her ankle.

Looking down the nauseous feeling in her stomach returned at full force. Her left ankle was twisted in an unnatural fashion and trying to support weight upon it was met only with agony.

Limping towards the window, doing her best to avoid using her left leg as much as possible, she paused and huffed as she tried to steel herself and ignore the multitudes of pain coursing through her. She was starting to feel dizzy, the amount of blood she had lost starting to take its toll on her.

Yet it seemed she could not catch a break. She could heard footsteps coming from the upstairs hallway. Boots stomping. Slow and loud. Taunting her again, letting her know she was coming, like a lamb who knew the butcher was only just beyond the relative safety of its pen.

Why her? Why did it have to be Riley? She was a good kid! She got decent grades in school, did all she could to help around the house and only very rarely got into fist fights with other students. Had she missed something? Had she overlooked some sort of mental health issue? No, she thought, trying to keep focussed as her vision spun before her like a carousel. She was a tentative mother, of that she was sure. She had been there to fuss when the school had referred her to a specialist to have her diagnosed with ADHD. She had been there. If there was some deep seated psychological reason, she would know.

The footsteps banged on the stairs, beginning to get closer, telling Delilah she had a limited time to come up with a plan of action. Banging on the glass of the window, she screamed in frustration. She could sense Riley lurking in the shadows of the hallway.

Growing more and more hysterical, she began to ram the window with the full force of her shoulder. An amused 'heh’ alerted her Riley was in the room with her, barely a few steps away, taking her time, leisurely strolling across to Delilah. Trapped, like a fish in a barrel.

Finally, the glass began to break under the force, a small dent beginning to stretch into a line. The possibility of smashing the window becoming more and more real.

Yet it was already too late. The sharp sound of metal scraping metal made Delilah turn. Riley stood directly behind her, face inches from hers, wielding her mother’s stolen dress making scissors. Slowly opening them before snapping them shut again. Some of Blossom’s now dried blood blunted them ever so slightly. Delilah realised Riley had not been taunting her, or trying to work her to panic. She had merely been taking her time to clean her weapon. This threatening gesture was intended to remove the last of the crusty red and sharpen her blade.

“ 'Sup, ” Riley chirped before thrusting her scissors into the right side of her mother’s stomach. Delilah flinched, her hands snapping to Riley’s wrist and white knuckling her, screaming in anguish as she tried to defend herself. Trying to shove Riley back however seemed in vain, her daughter was much better built than she and easily overpowered her, driving the scissors through her body and piercing an exit wound on the skin of her back.

“ No, no, stop! ” Delilah screeched, squirming, as she fell back against the window, hearing it crack more against her weight but not enough to give out. Riley flashed an evil sneer, twisting the scissors, niggling her insides and tearing through human flesh like butter. Delilah felt like she was on fire, the pain rushing through her from her head, her hand, her side, her leg. “ P-Please! Stop! ”

Riley ripped the scissors free, causing more damage as she did so. Delilah sobbed in a mixture of terror and anguish. Her blood splattered the semi broken window behind her like a morbid stain glass painting.

“ What’s wrong? I arrange all this mother-daughter bonding and you don’t even appreciate it? Ungrateful! ” She snapped, as Delilah’s vision began to fade.

“ Why, ” She gasped at her daughter, reaching out a weak hand to her. “ Why would you… ” She trailed off, as Riley pocketed her pilfered scissors and took her mother’s outstretched hand in hers, squeezing it. A motion that might have been affectionate, reassuring even, if not for the context of their situation and the extra pain it caused in Delilah’s injured hand.

“ I understand what daddy meant now, ” Riley tells her, turning her gaze upwards to the drawings on the wallpaper. Her gaze seeming to linger on the painting of the faceless man.

“ Ri… Ril- ” Delilah stuttered, her voice escaping her as she slumped against the window, sliding to the floor. Riley went with her, lowering herself, crouching before her.

“ Shh, shh, it’s okay… Go ahead, you can rest now, it’s over for you, ” Her daughter’s scratchy voice whispered, their hands still holding onto one another, fingers intertwined.

Delilah was already so far gone, she was barely aware of the revolver being lifted to her head.

Bang!

A few weeks later, Rylan was sipping his coffee, his eyes never leaving the broadsheet newspaper in front of him. He had been nursing this hot beverage for long enough it had went cold but in a cozy, backwater truck stop in the middle of no where like this? Nobody bothered him over it.

He had always known it was a possibility this would happen. A very probably one in fact. The question had merely been by who’s hand. Yet, reading about Delilah and Blossom’s gruesome end still stirred deep sentimentality in him. Still, they had served their purpose. As had he. His time was limited now. He would be replaced soon- Discarded.

The bell on the door tinkled alerting the sparsely populated diner someone else had entered. Rylan heard them brush off a waitress, telling them to give her a moment. He glanced up slightly.

“ You know, you’re inconspicuous as fuck in that outfit, ” He grumbled, as his daughter took a seat across from him. “ You’re supposed to be laying low. ”

“ 'You’re supposed to be laying low’, ” She mimicked sassily. “ Fuck off, Snitch, ” She grunted, addressing him by his alias rather than his proper name, despite knowing it full well. She shivered, clearly cold, pulling her tailcoat close. “ This place is fucking freezing, ” She grumbled before picking up Rylan’s coffee, taking a long gulp before beginning to choke up. “ Fucking hell! That’s cold, how can you drink that swill? ”

“ Will you be quiet? You’re causing a scene, ” Rylan warned her lowly, the few other cafe goers risking glances at the unusual pair.

“ See, the thing is, to cause a scene you need a crowd and unless you hadn’t noticed, we might as well be in the Sahara, ” She retorts. Rylan snorts, turning up his nose at her.

“ …You been given a name? ” He asks simply moving on. She flashed a toothy grin, glancing over as one of the waitresses tried to perform a hushed phone call. As Rylan had suspected, his daughter’s over-the-top getup had given them away almost instantly, sticking out like a sore thumb. It would hardly be a tricky police line up.

“ Aye, ” She told him, lifting her revolver and firing without looking. In the last few weeks, her skills had already been honed. Trained by the tough lifestyle and the threat of death in the face of failure.

Someone screamed, as the waitress’ brain was turned to mush with the impact of the bullet before spraying across the wall.

“ Bullseye, ” The girl let out a low self-impressed whistle. “ Three sixty no scope that shit! ”

“ Nice shot but don’t be an idiot. So, name? ” Rylan pressed, guiding her attention back to his question, as people began running from the truck stop, screaming bloody murder. In such a secluded country corner, the duo could take their time. Any law enforcement would be at least ten minutes this far out in the sticks.

“ Steampunk, don’t wear it out, ” She told him as she clicked the safety of the revolver back on and holstered it again.

“ …You’ll be…. An interesting proxy. I’m sure he’ll be watching you very closely. ”

#creepypasta #creepypasta oc #slenderman #proxy #Creepypasta Steampunk #horror #short story

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