Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

It Stared Back

The abyss speaks to me and I lift my head up to the direction the voice came from, "Who's there? I can't see."

In my worthless struggle, did I somehow forget Zalga pulling out my second eye? I paw at the "ground" and notice it's perfectly smooth as if it were glass. It has an unnatural chill that reaches the marrow of my bones. I bring a hand up to my left eye and lightly touch my eyeball. It's there. This place is just that dark.

The female voice laughs, "How is it that I remember you yet you have forgotten me? It should be the other way around with how long I have rotted here."

The voice makes me flare up, "Painter."

"It has felt like years have passed. Has it even been a month? No, I am sure I counted two hundred and eighty-seven Abyssal nights. I think... Not that it matters," she speaks to herself like a madwoman.

"Cut the fucking shit," I feel my way over to her, crawling like an infant toward the voice of its mother, "This is all your fault!"

Wrathfully, I slam my hand down onto the floor with each step forward, going off of a sixth sense to feel for her presence. My hand slaps onto her ankle and I pull myself up her body. I take a guess for where her face is and punch her, hitting a cheekbone instead of air. I grin and pull back to strike again. She cries out and falls to the floor, blocking my punches with her hands, but I don't stop. Painter yells for me to stop, trying to push me off with her legs.

"It's all your fault, you bitch! You caused all of this! Ever since you exiled me and ran off like a coward, the mansion went to shit! The peace was broken and now you had to get captured by Zalga! What the fuck did you tell her, huh? Tell me!" I reach back again.

"I know, I know!" she puts her hands up, feeling my face with thin fingers, "Oh, (Y/N), I already know this."

I sit on her stomach with my fists in front of me, "If you think admitting to it is enough... you're dead wrong."

She moves her hands to my chest and shoulders while trying to form a mental image of me, "What I did to you... to everyone... is unforgivable. Not even by suffering through Zalga's torture could I pay back for all of those years of puppeteering. I do not care for it anymore, manipulation... with this damn abyss breaking me down, it has taught me that it all means nothing. No matter how powerful I think I am, I will still rot in the dirt and move on to oblivion just like everyone else."

I lower my hands tiredly.

"This world is cruel," Painter continues with a shaky voice, "but Zalga is crueler. She has already extracted all of the most useful information regarding the mansion from my memory. Even the ones I had repressed. I give up, (Y/N). There is no forgiveness. There is no hope of return. I am too far gone to have the privilege to live the peaceful life with Slenda. I just want to die."

Hearing the echo of her hands falling to the floor, I begin to take pity on her. If she's been held in Zalga's hands for this long... she's already been punished enough. In comparison to this unfortunate end, exile was a walk in the park. I get off of Painter and sit next to her as she sits up too. Neither of us exchange a word through the darkness.

I think aloud to myself, "This is some deep shit."

"The Abyss is not as daunting as you may think, (Y/N)," she tries to brighten up.

"How long have you been here? Has it really been two hundred and eighty-seven days?" I turn my head in her direction, forgetting I can't see her.

"That is what I believe, but now you are here. Can you not answer that question yourself? All sense of time has long been uprooted," Painter confesses.