//TW: jump-scares, blood, suicide, gore etc//

9.

| 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝. |

Eunjae P.O.V

Where was I?

The colourful room I was in seemed really familiar and nostalgic, but I had no clue as to how I got here.

I looked around, not sensing a single soul nearby. I relaxed slightly.

My surroundings seemed slightly surreal and vivid; maybe it was because of the setting sun's final rays, bathing the room with a golden hue.

I walked around, examining every little artefact lying in the room.

Old clothes which looked as though they belonged to a teenager, various scarves, shiny bracelets and brooches, and other such glittery things.

I rushed to each item with glee, to pick it up and try it on. I loved everything that was shiny and glittery, and liked to collect them.

In fact, many of the accessories I had picked up were really similar to the ones I used to own.

The earring in my hand had a missing stone at its base. . .

just like mine.

I dropped the earring back. It must've been a coincidence.

No, it definitely was a coincidence.

Maybe the brand that makes these earrings always make them faulty.

However, my mind changed when I saw a marble necklace, identical to my favourite necklace. I turned it around and saw the seventh marble from the right, immediately dropping it down.

It had the initials C.E.J carved on it;

just like how I had carved on mine.

I pushed away my increasing apprehensive thoughts, as well as the cause of them.

The necklace rolled on the ground for a few moments, before halting in front of a vividly familiar doll.

My doll.

The doll had the same polka dotted pink frock, with frilly blonde hair folded in plaits, and black shoes, as mine did.

Except, this doll's right hand was torn off, and there was a creepy smile fixed on her face. Upon further inspection, I realised that the red tint spread oddly around her lips wasn't lipstick, but meant to be blood.

I frowned my eyebrows, slowly and carefully lowering my hovering finger on the doll's lower lip.

The texture of the lip wasn't fabricated, like how an inanimate objects' lip should be; instead, it seemed peculiarly like an actual human's lip.

It was soft and plush, with a slight moistness on it, which creepily increased. When I pulled my finger back, I saw blood all over the parts which were in contact with the lip.

I wiped the blood off of my finger, but to no avail; the blood magically resurfaced on my finger, as if I had a cut on my finger.

I wiped it again, and again, pressing it harshly down for a good two minutes at my last attempt. But, the blood persistently materialised on my fingers, despite my futile attempts at halting the flow of the thick, red liquid.

Giving up on wiping it, I placed my finger inside my mouth, the strangely addicting taste of blood coating my tongue and mouth.

I hummed in content at the metallic taste of the iron in it, the doll, which suspiciously wasn't like a doll, long forgotten on the table.

I don't know exactly how much time I had spent sucking on my finger, but it had certainly felt like an hour, when very abruptly, a painting, that was hanging on the wall in front of me, fell down with a crash.

I jumped suddenly, a short scream escaping my mouth, which seemed unusually loud.

I calmed myself before walking towards the picture. Upon closer inspection, I realised that it was a very realistic, three dimensional painting of a raven, whose black feathers looked darker and denser than shadows.

Paired with the raven, most unusually, was a spider.

The spider had eight hairy legs, and milky white eyes, each intricately done.

As much as I found this scene creepy, and confusing, I couldn't help but appreciate the artist who had made this, because everything looked so real, that, if it weren't for the clear paint brushstrokes, I would assume that it was a picture taken with a professional camera.

I picked it up, just wanting to graze my fingers over the painting, to fully make sure that it wasn't a digital picture.

My fingers were over the spider's eye, when the painting wasn't a painting anymore.

The spider suddenly came to life, and scuttled up my arm, clicking its pincers.

I stared at it for a millisecond, before screaming, shaking my hand vigorously and violently to get rid of it.

I was so alarmed by the spider that was supposed to be a painting, that I didn't realise that the painting frame I was holding in my other arm melted, and morphed into a life-size raven.

Unintentionally, I was gripping the raven tightly, finally having gotten rid of the spider.

The raven clearly didn't like that, because it bit my finger, causing me to let out a cry of pain, while letting the bird go.

I watched dazedly as the bird flew straight at the wall in its panic, and then regained itself before flying out of the open window.

It took a good ten seconds to register what happened next; the raven, which had just gotten freedom, was hit by a red aeroplane, which was flying right outside the window.

I rushed to the window, and was hit with a sudden gust of wind. I looked around and realised that the room I was in, was at the highest altitude possible.

Below me, I could see the raven falling down, as if in slow motion, when it was hit once again by an eagle.

I stared around in horror, backing away hastily.

I had a fear of heights, and felt nauseous if I look down from a high altitude.

What was happening?

I felt my left foot step on something, and the next thing I know, I had fallen on the ground. I pulled my leg back and saw that I had tripped on the marble necklace I had dropped earlier.

I moved a little back, my hands gripping on something soft.

I grabbed at the soft piece of cloth and realised that it was a white cashmere scarf. I had owned a similar one, my parents had gifted it to me before they committed suicide.

I examined it, fingers moving around its fluffy material.

A tiny red drop fell at the centre of the scarf.

I frowned, carefully wiping it away, making sure that there won't be a stain on the white.

My frown deepened when yet another red drop, bigger, this time, fell on the scarf again.

I wiped it again, a little of the colour smudging this time, but to no avail, because three more deep red drops replaced the previous one.

My first instinct, wasn't to look at where the colour was falling from, but to move the scarf away, which is what I did.

When another cherry red drop fell on my arm, I wiped my finger over the thick liquid, and brought it close to my nose and sniffed it.

The unmistakably metallic smell of blood entered my nose.

I looked up slowly, slightly scared of what I would find, and let out another scream, much louder this time, upon seeing the horrific sight.

My parents' bloodied bodies were hanging from the ceiling.

The scene was just like how I had witnessed all those years ago, tiptoeing to see past the policemen's heads, except that their faces then didn't have blood dripping, nor did their eyes look like they did now.

Alive.

Their eyes looked alive, filled with something I thought seemed like hunger, staring right at me.

Their hands, skin scabbed, as if someone had scratched it mercilessly, were stretched out towards me, as if they wanted to grab me.

I backed away from them, my eyes never leaving theirs, as if I was hypnotised.

They tried moving closer to me, but realised that the noose around their neck was preventing them from doing so.

The next thing I saw, made me scream for the umpteenth time; their hands grabbed at their throats and pressed it, until their heads literally popped out of their sockets, and fell on the ground in front of me with a thump.

Their bodies, no longer bound to the noose now that they were headless, fell on the ground, miraculously landing on both their feet with sudden agility.

They walked closer, picked their heads up, and placed it on the top of their neck and pushed it down with a sickening crunch.

What horrified me the most, was the fact that my mom's bloody head was sitting atop my father's body, and my father's head was fixed to my mother's body.

"Honey," said a very hoarse voice, which sounded a lot like a mix of both my parents' voices.

"We're here," said the same voice.

I couldn't make out who was speaking when, because their lips were unmoving, stretched into something I suppose was meant to be a smile, but looked more like a bloody grimace than anything else.

"Get away from me," I muttered, walking backwards.

"What happened, dear? Are you not happy to see us?"

Their mutilated figures came closer, and closer.

"I said get away from me!"

I looked around and saw a knife near my feet. I picked it up, not caring about what it was doing here, near my feet, and threw it at them.

I expected the knife to do something, anything, maybe even just bounce off of them, but didn't expect it to go straight through them, and fall behind them as a balloon.

"Eunjae. . ."

They spoke together, their distorted voices sending shivers down my back. They sounded. . . disappointed?

"I hate you both so much," I said, tears filling my eyes.

"So, so much."

At these words, their faces became as white as chalk, hair shrinking back into their skull, skin melting into the skull as well.

I stared at them, barely managing to stay sane, muffling down my shouts and sobs.

The transformation completed, until their faces weren't their faces anymore; it was a mere skull.

Not just any skull though: it was the same skull balloon I had seen hanging outside the mall a couple hours ago.

They came closer, and closer, while I kept backing up, until my back hit a wall.

"S-stay away from me," I said, forcefully, but to no avail.

They came nearer, and nearer, and extended their hands to touch my face.

I closed my eyes and began screaming, my hands covering my face.

I woke up in a cold sweat, salty tears mixing with it, still screaming.

x x x

A / N

omg hi
long time no see haha

this chapter must've confused the shit out of y'all lmfao, and honestly, I don't blame y'all haha

This was like an insight to her life prior to being a sex worker, and how much she despises her parents, consider it character insight and development.

The next chapter may again take some time before it's out, because I lowkey just finished this chapter and clicked publish, and so the next chap hasn't even been started :")

Also BTS got personal insta accounts HSJSHSJSJS I cannot with Jungkook's username💀
Hobi added ARMY in his username pleaseeeee😭

Vote, spam, and comment because I'm saying so :')

Ciao~

-xo-
:]