For All Of Eternity (A Sally Creepypasta Fanfiction)

Chapter 1 - Pain

The night in the neighbor was quiet and cold, and Sally walked along the torn road that was ravished with age.

Her brown hair was tangled, a section darkened with dried blood, and hung over her face in strands. Her hair covered most of the gash on her head. Dried blood trailed down over her forehead, past her right eye, and down her pale, cold cheek.

Her green eyes that were once bright and so full of life were now staring blankly at the road before her. Those dull, unfocused eyes were darkened with memories that would forever burden her, forever haunt her. Sally's pink nightgown is stained with spatters of her own blood, and the end of said nightgown is torn and tattered, dirty in some places. Her bruised and dirty arms hung lifelessly at her sides and she let them sway as she made her way down the road. Blood dripped from under the nightgown, down her legs, and mixing with the dirt on her bare feet, which dragged across the gritty concrete.

Her walk was unbalanced, shaky, as if her legs were made of jelly. Sally knew well why she couldn't walk properly, and she didn't want to think about those dark bruises she knows were beneath her nightgown.

Her head spun, overwhelmed with the images of what she saw before she died.

Those lust-darkened eyes. That wicked smile. They chill her to her very core.

"Do you want to play a game, Sally?"

She stiffened when she remembered those words, along with the breathy whisper of the haunting voice. Her eyes shifted and she turned her head, as if she was expecting him to be right behind her.

But she knew she was alone on this street. She has been alone for quite some time now. She looked back down to the concrete ground, her hair falling around her face once more.

Unbeknownst to her, another being happens to be walking on a different road from her, near the cross-section behind her. A man chuckled to himself as he thought about the satisfying, desperate pleads of the family he recently murdered, the fresh blood spattered on his already stained white hoodie. He found himself at a crossway of roads, and he had begun deciding which one to go down and which house to terrorize next. Before the police arrive, before moving on to a different neighborhood.

His dark, greasy hair hung over his face in strands and fell around his shoulders. His eyes were rimmed in black; burnt skin where his eyelids used to be. His pale blue irises are dilated as they scanned the srea around himself.

When he looked down the road to his right, he noticed something small and pink walking along it.

The smile he had cut into his own cheeks lifted even wider, and his hand that held his knife, which hid in the pocket of his hoodie, tightened its grip. His head tilted to the side as he let out a little laugh, walking down the road to where he sees what he can now assume was a little girl.

But it didn't matter who it was; the need to kill was all he could think about right now. He was drunk on bloodlust.

He's close to the girl now, just a few feet away. The girl continued walking, either unknowing or nonchalant about the man advancing from behind. He noticed her disheveled appearance, but didn't think about it for long as he spoke up.

"Hey, little girl. Isn't it past your bedtime?" He asked in a hoarse voice. Sally stopped walking, but didn't turn to face him. He stopped as well, prepared to swipe out his weapon, but not yet. He wanted to see her face, so he growled softly. "Aren't you going to face me when I talk to you?"

Sally stood still and silent. Irritation sprouted in the man. He was thinking of just killing her off and be done with it, but for some reason, this felt odd. As if something was tugging on his conscience, bringing about a feeling of dread, a feeling telling him that he shouldn't do what he's about to do. He hadn't felt that kind of feeling in a long time. However, he shrugged the strange feeling off as he pulled out his weapon, the blade glinting off of a distant streetlight.