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lvrsparadise · 1 year

Text

'WHY (NOT)?' - S.T

Synopsis - "There used to be six of us. Now I'm alone."

Warnings! - Mentions of death, blood, (mild) gore, fear, vomit, profanity, italics mean flash back (will write at top who's pov), depictions of murder, sharp objects, angst, crying, yelling, implied Matt x Y/N, might make a pt2 don't know yet.

A/N - You know what's the best part about being creative? THIS ISN'T MY IDEA!! I GOT IT FROM PINTEREST! But like, BANGER. I had sm fun writing this ngl. (I cried, multiple times.)

I look into the eyes of the police officer across from me, exhaling frustratedly.

"I swear! I didn't do it! Something attacked us!"

"And how am I supposed to believe you? There's no footage of it."

I groan out, even more frustrated than before. I lay my head in my palms, which are shaking from what I saw, and frustration.

I hear the cop sigh and his chair scraping against the floor, as he stands and leaves the room.

----

!Y/N POV!

I look out the window at the old and abandoned mansion we're about to head into and unbuckle my seatbelt, looking at everyone else in the van.

"Dude I'm stoked." Chris daps Nate up as they get out of the car and head to the trunk to get our stuff.

I smile softly and shake my head.

"I'm honestly terrified."

"Me too" Me and Madi say in unison to Nick.

I turn my head to Matt, in the driver's seat next to me, and we share a look for a while, just taking each other in, before I step out of the car to help Chris and Nate with the stuff we brought.

"Dude, what if some like creepy old ghost haunts this place and like, possesses one of us?"

"How can you say that with a straight face Nate?"

He shrugs with a small smirk on his mouth as he hands me my backpack.

I roll my eyes and open my bag to make sure I have everything I need.

Flashlight, food, water, clothes, a blanket, my pocketknife, and batteries.

Once we're all set with our gear, we all collectively walk into the mansion, splitting up into groups of two.

Chris with Nate. Me with Matt, and Nick with Madi.

We all have cameras to record our own little adventures. We all are in different parts of the hose.

Me and Matt are upstairs, looking at all of the bedrooms, studies, and libraries.

"Woah, look at this painting."

I point my flashlight at the painting above a really gaudy and luxurious bed set, with is dirty and dusty.

It's a painting of a lady in a pencil thin bodice, long dress, and her eyes hollow and sunken. Her skin pale and bruised in several places.

"Holy fuck. That's nightmare fuel." He points our camera at the painting as he speaks.

"I know." I whisper as we continue looking around the room, filming all of it.

"So, as I was saying guys-" My foot hits something, and I furrow my brows looking down at whatever it is, my eyes soon widening in fear.

"Matt! MATT!" I yell out for him, running to where I was with him last, thankfully finding him there.

"Woah! Hey! Hey, what's wrong?"

I gulp and shake my head, my eyes filling with tears and my eyes still wide. I feel like I'm going to puke.

I just start walking back to where my foot hit the thing on the ground. I point my flashlight down to it, gagging at the sight of Chris laying on his back, dead.

His eyes, not there, blood coming from his mouth, and many large gashes on his chest.

I feel my breathing pick up, and a hand on my shoulder, ultimately ripping my gaze away from the once fun, and bubbly guy, now laying on the floor dead.

I hear Matt gag and watch as he does a full 180 and holds his hand over his mouth.

----

I cry for what feels like the hundredth time today. Not caring about the cops and investigators on the other side of what I know is a one-sided window.

The sight of seeing everyone I love, and the guy I've been crushing on, dead, all missing their eyes. A horror I'll never forget for as long as I live.

I hear the door open again, and don't bother to look at it. These handcuffs were really starting to hurt.

I hear whoever it was plop down in the chair across from me and drop a file on the table.

I wipe my face the best I can with the cuffs and look up at the person.

It's a different cop or whatever than the many who've came in here.

"I'm not here to interrogate you or overwhelm you with questions, I'm here to help you grasp the severity of this situation and why your co-operation is valuable right now."

"I'm telling the truth! I didn't murder my fucking friends!"

She holds up her hand in a motion telling me to stop, and she opens the file, pulling our multiple photos, and angles of my friends, all dead. Pale, eyes sunken and gouged out.

I gag at the pictures. She points to one of Matt's photos, a picture of him alive and happy next to the horrifying image I'll never forget seeing.

"This is Matthew Sturniolo? Correct?"

I nod and swallow the bile in my throat and clearing it before speaking.

"Y-Yes that's him."

"Okay. And this one?" She points to a photo of Madi, looking barely recognizable. I sob quietly and nod, sniffling.

"That's- That's Madi- uh, Madison Filipowicz."

She points to a photo of a boy in a backwards hat that I recognize as Nate's. I feel more tears fall down my face at the fact he's too unrecognizable on his face that the only reason I knew it was him was by his blood-soaked Boston Red Sox hat.

"Nath- Nathan Doe."

"And this one's Nicolas? Right?"

I nod as she points to a photo of Nick.

"Y-yeah." I blow out a shaky breath.

"So that leaves this one to be Christopher." She gestures to the photo of Chris. I don't even bother to look at it, fearing I might actually puke all over this table, the photos, and the lady's nice tan pantsuit.

----

!CHRIS'S POV!

Me and Nate watch Matt and Y/N walk up the stairs in front of us, but once we reach the top, we split and go opposite directions.

"Dude! Look at this old ass record player." Nate points his flashlight to the record player in the middle of the room.

"It's so fucking dusty."

"Well, no shit. It's probably been here for a hundred years."

"Ha ha. Although, probably has. This place looks like if you breathed wrong it'd fall over."

I drag my finger along the back of the chair, and it was dusty as hell.

After a bit of walking around, we make it to a large hall with a long table in the middle and chairs, on every side of the table.

"What're we here for? Dinner." I snicker at Nate's joke and shine the flashlight on it, while using my other hand to point the camera at it as well.

"Damn, hoity toity ass dining table." I mumble. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow, or like a figure, but I brush it off as the light from the flashlight and mine or Nate's silhouette.

"Look at that dude!" Nate points his flashlight at a painting at the head of the table. A dude in his 40's maybe 50's with chops and a bald head, wearing some goofy ass clown collar.

"Dude looks like his name was fucking, Edward or Baldwin."

"This house has to be at least 200 years old or some shit. Because there's no way this fucker existed a hundred years ago."

I laugh at Nate's words. But I'm cut off by a scream from down the hall. Both me and Nate look at each other and point our flashlights to the staircase we came up, just in case.

"The fuck was that?"

"I don't kno-" Another scream. Sounds like.

"Madi."

"Fuck." I go to run down the stairs, but I'm yanked back by my backpack. Hard.

I hit the ground with a 'umphf' and a groan, having the air knocked out of me.

I cough and hear Nate yelling my name.

"CHRIS! CHRIS WATCH OUT!"

But I feel cold on my chest and look down to it to see at least 5 large gashes across my chest.

"The fuck-?" I mumble and look up to see some whack ass thing, with fingers as long as my fucking arm. And sharp looking. Black eyes, or none at all, I can't tell. And so many fucking large teeth.

My eyes widen in horror at the sight of the thing. It's skin grey and yellow, his body thin and tall, adorned with large bone like wings and spikes in its spine and its knuckles.

I don't even get a chance to let out a full scream when I feel a sharp pain in my eyes, and everything goes black and numb.

----

I rub my wrists as they take the cuffs off me so I can eat what they gave me. Which looks amazing, but I have no appetite.

It's a pork loin, mashed potatoes, green beans, fries, some juices, some fruits like pineapple, apple, strawberry, and some baby carrots and cucumbers.

Like I said, looks delicious, but if I try to eat it, it might comeback up.

The cop leaves the room and I'm left alone with my thoughts again.

I sigh and pick up the plastic fork, scooping up some mashed potatoes and eating a little bit. But they don't taste how they should. They feel like sandpaper against my mouth. Like grit, and I have to force myself to swallow it. I know it's not the food, but me.

I push the tray away and rest my arms on the table, laying my head on them and sobbing, but no tears come out. I've dried them up. I mean can you blame me? I just watched almost every single one of my friends die.

I wish I had told Matt how I felt. Maybe I wouldn't feel like this. Like I'm missing something. Like I could've convinced them not to go. Like I could've helped instead of just watching.

Maybe then all of my friends wouldn't be dead.

It's crazy how much one little decision can cause. Like, deciding to go to that mansion in the first place. If we'd just stayed home or brought professionals maybe, then I wouldn't have watched them die. Watch as their eyes were poked out and watch as their bodies sag to the floor.

I scoot the chair back and puke under the table, unable to hold it down anymore. It's all too much.

After I vomit, I pick up the cup of water from the table and wash my mouth out. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to rid myself of those images.

I rub my eyes and watch as, yet another cop enters the room, accompanied by what looks to be either a journalist or a lawyer, they dress the same so I can't tell.

They sit across from me, and the journalist or lawyer lady sets a recorder, a file, and a plastic bag on the table as the cop throws down another file.

"I want you to tell me what happened Ms. L/N. In full detail. Explain what happened to your friends, as well as why you survived." The journalist, I've confirmed, speaks in a demanding tone, but still so monotone, and pushes a lock of her jet-black hair behind her ears.

"You asked for it." I shrug and scoot closer to the table, careful to avoid my pile of vomit on the floor, and rest my arms on the cool metal surface, lacing my hands together.

"So, Matt Nick and Chris are- were YouTubers, and they had a cool video idea that they wanted to do. So, they we set a date, got everything packed, invited a few friends, me included, and we set off to the old Gordon family mansion in Los Angelas. Once we got there, we all split up into groups of two, seeing as there were six of us." I clear my throat and stammer over my words for a second before continuing.

"Uh- Me, Matt, Chris, and Nate went to the second floor to explore while Nick and Madi were on the first floor, looking around there. Nate and Chris went in one direction and Me and Matt went another. We-we, we stumbled upon a series of paintings of a family, looking almost dead, and that's when I-" I take a deep breath before trying to continue. Keyword, trying.

The journalist sighs and places one of her hands on top of mine, in sympathy.

"It's okay, take as much time as you need."

I take another deep breath and continue.

"I was walking when I kic-kicked Chris's body, unknowingly. I yelled for Matt, and I ran back to him to bring him to it. Once we got to his- his body, we both just broke- broke down and soon after I had found him, Nate appears out of nowhere, seemingly hiding. With a horrified face. Just, completely pale and his eyes wide open, like they were stuck like that. And he said he saw what had happened."

"Can you tell us that?" The cop asks, and I nod.

"Ye-yeah." I drag in a shaky breath and le it out slowly.

"Um- there was this- this thing, he said. And it was at least 8 feet tall, and you could see the bones through its gray skin. It had bone like wings, spikes coming from his spine and knuckles, and horns made of bone spiking through its head. He said it had no eyes, or they were just black, and large, spikey teeth. And it had long spikes for fingers, and that he saw as the- the thing poked Chris's- Chris's..." I let out a small sob at the recall of what Nate said, moments before his own untimely death.

"It poked out Chris's eyes with his long fingers and Chris barely got a chance to scream out." I finish and sob into my hand, which is now covering my eyes and shaking again.

"What happened after Nathan told you what happened?" The cop is writing in his little flip-notepad, scribbling things down, most likely the description of whatever it was that killed my friends.

"Uhm- We heard something that sounded like a crying scream and a siren, the next thing we knew, Nate was flying towards me and Matt, he landed on me, pinning my body down as he lays on his back on top of me. The thing he had described seconds before, was now standing over me, gashing at Nate, with screams and wails of agony coming from him. Then, it all went silent, when I opened my eyes, the thing was gone, and I scrambled to my feet, pushing Nate's body off of me, and that's when I see, he's missing his eyes and he's almost unrecognizable." I let out a muffled sob into my hand as I try to hold back the sobs, my throat forming a lump in it, making it hard to speak.

'Then what?" Despite the circumstances, the journalist has a very soft and comforting voice.

"Me- me and Matt ran back downstairs, looking for Nick and Madi. Thankfully, we found them, alive, and we said in a rush and rambled mess that we had to go, something was there, we're all going to die. Something along those lines, and they were like, or Nick was like 'slow down, what's going on?' and so we slowed down and told him what happened. And it was like speaking about that damn thing summoned it, because the next thing I know, it's standing behind Madi..." I blow out a shaky breath and close my eyes for a second, but open them quickly, seeing as the only thing I see when I close them is the horrifying images of my friends dying in front of me.

"And then she's being thrown across the room with 4 to 5 gashes on her chest and then the thing seems to teleport, and looms over her as she screams in pain, fear, and pure agony. Then it's silent again. And Madi's dead." I hang my head in my hands, more tears slipping down my cheeks.

"What happened next?" I sniffle and wipe my face, looking back at the cop and journalist in front of me. Both of their faces intrigued, and full of sadness and sympathy.

"Me, Matt, and Nick start running for our lives to the front door of the house, but we can hear and feel the thundering footsteps of the creature behind us. Making that wailing slash siren sound again. We made it out the door, but the thing catches Nick just as we do. I grab my pocketknife from my backpack, and I throw it at the thing, landing right in between its eyes. And bright, glowing blue blood starts oozing from its eyes, and where my knife is lodged in its skull. I remember the fear I had in that moment. Because that means, I'm about to lose another one of my friends. And Matt is about to watch his own brother die, right in front of him." I choke out a sob and shake my head slowly. Seeing it was enough, but having to tell someone about it? Makes everything so much worse.

"Then same thing with Nick as the others. Except the thing kept Nick standing while it- it- it killed him. And I watched as his body sagged to the floor, landing with a thud and a pool of blood instantly forming around it." I gag reflexively, but I hold it down.

"Me and Matt ran as fast as we could, but it wasn't enough. It was never supposed to go that far! I wasn't supposed to lose Matt! He was the one who was to survive!" I sob and yell out, pointing my finger in the air at no one specifically.

"We- we made it to the car and started to drive off, but the fucking thing crushed the back half of the car!"

----

!Y/N POV!

"Matt! Come on! Drive! GO!"

"I'm driving Y/N!"

The car seems to shrink and then next thing I know, we're doing burnouts from not having the back half of his car anymore. I'm sobbing at this point.

"I don't want to die!"

"You're not going to Y/N... I promise."

"Wh-what?"

He smiles softly at me before he kisses the back of my hand and unbuckles my seatbelt.

"When I get out, I want you to run."

"No- no. I'm not leaving you Matt."

"What am I without Chris? Or Nick? Nate? Madi? It's better this way."

"But Matt..."

He shakes his head firmly and steps out of the car, cueing me to run.

I shrug off my backpack and run out of the passenger seat, booking it, but stopping and turning around to see Matt, and hearing his screams.

My hands fly over my mouth at the sight of Matt getting his eyes poked out. The creature dropping his body to the ground as though it were a doll.

The thing stalks back into the house, leaving me outside.

Once I know the thing is gone, I run to Matt's body and grab his hand, holding it to my face, sobbing.

"No. no, no, no, no, no." I shake my head repeatedly.

----

"Why leave you alive?" The cop furrows his eyebrows as he looks up from his notepad.

"I don't know." I shake my head and sob, almost uncontrollably, but not loudly.

The journalist nods and takes my hands in hers.

"I know what you saw is deeply traumatic, but was there Anything else that happened? Anything that could help us with this?"

"Nothing else happened. I swear." I shake my head and control my sobs, tears still streaming down my face.

After a few more hours of waiting in this very uncomfortable chair, a cop, and what looks to be the chief, walk in and I immediately straighten my posture, out of respect.

"Miss L/N, correct?"

"Uh- yes sir."

"We're letting you go, but we will be checking up on you weekly. You're free to go. And stay safe out there."

I nod and stand up from the metal chair, walking over to the chief and shaking his hand.

"Will do."

After I've gone through the whole, discharge process, I'm walking out of the glass doors of the police station.

My phone starts ringing from my pocket, and I grab it out and answering it.

"Yeah?"

"Well done. You really know how to hold a story."

"Well, you know how to play dead." I smirk.

"And you did good playing the victim. Make it home safe. See you tonight Y/N."

"See you then Matt."

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