mysotis ((wally darling x reader))

𝘰𝘯𝘦

Kneeling on the floor, I eagerly grabbed the first box, making sure to prop my flashlight up so I could still see everything.

"Please be money please be money" I prayed as I tore off the tape keeping the box sealed shut. To my disappointment, it was only a collection of old books for when kids first start learning to read.

I sighed, not bothering to even look past the first two books before I grabbed the next box. This one held an assortment of items: a pair of little shoes that were rather torn up, a pencil case filled with broken crayons, some very small sunglasses, and finally a little coin pouch. It didn't sound like there was anything in it, but I wanted to open it just to be safe...

"YES!" I pumped my first in the air, pulling out the crinkled up $20. It wasn't much, but when you're moving away for the first time, anything helps.

Feeling much better than when I first came up here, I moved onto the last box, the one with the big red letters and drawings. Picking it up, I noticed it was light as a feather. I wouldn't be surprised if it was empty. This box wasn't even taped closed like the rest.

Yet, to my surprise, inside there was a pile of papers, each with terrible yet adorable crayon drawings. The one on top was a picture of my mom and I having a picnic! Or at least I think that's what we're doing, it's pretty hard to tell.

My heart felt heavy as I shifted the pile to see the next drawing. This one was of my mom, dad, and I under a rainbow. The colorful scenery mixed with the bright smiles on our faces made my stomach churn. It's sad how everything can seem so perfect one moment, and completely flip upside down the next.

I fought the urge to tear the man I called my father out of the drawing and moved onto the next.

As I flipped through each page, the drawings seemed to start progressively getting slightly better. I could tell I was growing up through these as I started adding little descriptions and dates and learned to color inside the lines.

My breath caught in my throat as a rather dark looking drawing stood out among all the colors. I felt sick as I examined the picture of a young me crying with my very angry dad towering over me.

The description read: "Daddy is scary."

Without a second thought, I crumble the page and chuck it across the room, wishing I could do the same with the real him.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down. It's not like he can hurt me anymore. Right now he's in jail for all of the terrible thing's he's done, but more specifically for the fact he kidnapped me for almost a year when I was 12.

It's funny how such a horrible thing can happen to someone, and yet they have no recollection of it. I had to be told the missing pieces of my memory from the doctors and my mother, though she doesn't like to think about it either. The doctors and my therapist all say that everyone has different ways of coping with trauma. Apparently my mind likes to just block it out all together.

My mood was now officially ruined and I really didn't want to risk seeing another depressing drawing. I began piling up all the pictures again, but when I tried to even them out, my finger slid across the edge of the paper.

"Ah!" I hissed in pain and quickly moved my finger to my mouth, dropping all of the papers in the process.

My eyes widened as I forgot about easing the pain from the paper cut. I rushed to grab as many papers as I could find as they scattered across the room, making me knock over my flashlight in the process.

I muttered a string of curses under my breath as I felt around for my phone, now completely engulfed in darkness. I was really starting to regret ever coming up here, $20 or not. And if this is how the rest of my moving adventure is gonna go, maybe I'm in way over my head.