Delirium (Creepypasta x reader)

•18•

Content warning: Intense graphic violence, graphic blood, mind break. Dead dove do not eat.

Listen to "Biting Down" by Lorde for optimal experience.

You found yourself in the forest again.

The night was dark as pitch, the treetops above melding into one form to block out the moon, with only thin slivers of light peeking through the thick boughs.

You were running. Breathless and with your legs quaking, you tore through bracken and branches with flighty feet, all too aware of the three sets of thundering footsteps behind you.

The cold seeped into your bones, numbing you to the lashes you could only just barely feel across your body. You were surely bleeding, the liquid seeping into your clothes and clotting to your skin.

You wheezed over and over, trying to bring oxygen to your overworked and burning lungs. Tears pricked your eyes as you found yourself slowing down – from fatigue, from pain, and from fear. You were sure that your heart was going to explode and tear your ribs apart from how hard and fast it was beating, trying to keep you alive.

You screamed as a hand latched onto your arm, yanking you back into a body. With a violent shove you collapsed to the ground, dirt and gravel tearing into your palms. You cried out again and turned over, panting.

The three men quickly circled you, their faces concealed by masks and the shadows all around them.

Despair caused your face to crinkle up, and you threw your arms over your face as one leaned back and threw himself forward, hand curled.

His fist connected with your head and clipped your ear. With a shriek the world became blurry and twisted. With your balance off you had no idea who threw the next punch, but it landed right in your gut.

You sputtered and coughed, sobbing as more attacks came. Feet and hands, punches and kicks, the three men brutalized you with no heed to your tortured screams and cries for mercy.

They had no mercy for you.

Curled in a ball, you tried to minimize the amount of skin they could get to, protecting your face and stomach as hits rained down from above. Snot dripped from your nose, mixing with the spit and blood from your mouth. You wished you were dead.

The three men were all stationed around you, covering all sides so you could not escape the assault as they poured all their anger into you, laughing and snarling at your pain.

You saw the marks covering your skin, the scuffs in their shoes and dirt on their clothes. The tattered fabric of your costume, the wounds slowly growing larger. You viewed this all from up above between the branches of the trees. You heard your screams of agony, the yelps as one of the men grabbed your arms and jerked you up, grappling with your squirming as he locked your arms behind your back. Leaving you open to attack from the other two, who came closer while shaking their hands.

You felt the pleasure of the men, the pain arcing across your body, the absolute fear flooding your veins. And here you felt angry, and helpless. Why were you so weak? You were never able to say no, to stand up for yourself, or establish boundaries with people. You were a pushover. A doormat. And this whole mess would have been avoided if you had just told Cathy no. If you had fought against her, made it clear that you weren't to be messed with. If you had done any of that at all to anyone in your life that bulldozed you. How could you be so weak? You didn't want to be weak. You wanted to be strong. To be feared. You wanted Cathy to fear you. You wanted these men to fear you.

You wanted to hurt them.

One of the two drew closer, this the white masked man. Tilting his head and laughing before drawing back, readying his fist. In that moment, your body went from limp to taught. Like the drawstring of a bow, you lunged forward, surprising the one holding your arms into loosening his grip.

And you sunk your teeth into the masked mans neck.

He stumbled, a choked yell escaping his lips. You clasped his shoulders with your hands.

With a loud riiiip, you jerked your head back and tore his neck open.

Blood spewed like a fountain from the wound, covering your body in the red substance. The scent of copper filled the air as the man's body collapsed, arms jerking. Burbling left the hole, air escaping the lungs.

The other two were still, shocked, legs locked to where they stood.

You spat out the flesh and lifted yourself up, using the body as leverage.

With a growl you pounced on the nearest man, fitting his lifting hand into your mouth and latching onto his torso.

His fingers popped like baby carrots in your mouth, the metallic taste filling your senses.

The man screamed, his other hand clawing at your back, trying to get you off.

You dropped his fingers and shot one hand up, digging your fingers into his scalp and pulling, tearing into the hair.

The follicles were so weak.

This man fell as well, tripping over a rock.

You found that rock. It was rough under your fingers, dirt flaking off the underside.

You raised it above your head and brought it down into his skull. Once. Twice. More. Liquid on your hands and arms. Copper filling your senses.

Two hands tugged at your clothes, at your arms, wrenching you off the no longer groaning and crying man. You turned and snapped, narrowly missing the third man's nose.

He jerked back. You followed.

Momentum carried you into him. His arms came around to trap you, tightening around you.

You swung your head and bit as hard as you could.

The third screamed, pushing you off. You yowled and came back, clawing at the mask on his face. Bashing your fists on it. Breaking it across his face.

Your fingers found home in his eye sockets.

Digging the eyeballs out was easy. Like fishing for grapes in a bowl. Your sticky hands couldn't grasp them but that didn't matter.

He fell too.

You punched him in the jaw over and over, clawed at his shirt.

With a swift movement, you stood up and jumped, landing on his sternum with a loud crack. His struggles weakened, voice dying off. You stamped your foot down. Once. Twice. Three times. Until you heard sloshing, the sound of mangled flesh tearing.

You pulled your foot out from the mess and backed off, away from the carnage. The forest was now quiet, save for your heavy breathing.

There wasn't an inch of your body that wasn't covered in blood or dirt. Your costume was soaked, the tattered fabric twisted beyond repair. Your hands were glossy with fast drying blood. Your mouth tasted of ash and muscle, blood and bone.

You watched this all from above, all of what you had done. A creeping horror overtook you as you realized what you did.

But you watched as your body – you, grinned instead. You raised a hand to your mouth and laved your tongue against your thumb, refreshing the taste of viscera.

Then, you – your body? you? – your body turned.

To where you were watching. Locked eyes with them.

They – you – then smiled, teeth stained with red.