CreepyPasta Original Stories

Ticci Toby - Toby Erin Rogers

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The road home continued on for what seemed like forever. It took so long to get home due to his mother wanting to avoid passing the sight of the crash. When the surrounding gave into a familiar neighborhood, they had both been more then ready to get out of the car and step back into their own home. It was an older neighborhood, with quaint little houses all next to each other. The car drove in front of a little blue house, with white window panes. They both quickly noticed the old vehicle that was parked in front of the house, and the familiar figure who stood out in the drive way. Toby felt automatic anger and frustration take over him at the sight of his father. His father who wasn't there.

His mother pulled the car up into the driveway beside him before turning off the engine and preparing to step out and face her husband. "Why is he here?" Toby said quietly as he looked back at his mother who reached to open the car door. "He's your father Toby, he's here because he wants to see you," His mother responded with a monotone voice, trying to sound less shaky. "Yet he couldn't have driven up to the hospital to see Lyra before she died," Toby narrowed his eyes out the window. "He was drunk that night honey, he couldn't drive-" 


"Yeah when is he not?" Toby pushed open the door before his mother and stumbled out onto the driveway where he met his father's gaze before looking down at his feet with a stern expression.

His mother stepped out behind him and met her husbands eyes before walking around the car. His father opened up his arms, expecting a hug from his wife, but she walked passed him and put her arm around Toby's shoulder and influenced him to begin walking inside. "Connie," her husband began to say under a raspy voice, "What no welcome home hug huh?" She ignored her husbands obnoxious words and walked passed him with her son under her arm. "Hey, He's 16 he can walk by himself," his father began to follow them in. "He's 17," Connie glared back at him before opening the door to the house and stepping inside. "Toby, why don't we get you in your room to rest okay? I'll come get you when dinner is ready-"


"No, I'm 16 I can walk by myself," Toby said sarcastically, and glared back at his father before stumbling up the small stair case and turning into his room where he slammed the door violently. His little room didn't have much in it. Just a small bed, a dresser, a window, and his walls had a few framed pictures of his family, back when they were a family. Before his father became an alcoholic, and acted violently towards the rest of his family. Toby remembered when he was arguing with his mother and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her to the floor, and when Lyra had tried to break it up, he pushed her and she hit her back on the corner of the kitchen counter. Toby could never forgive him for what he did to his mother and sister. Never.

Toby didn't care how much his father beat him down, he couldn't feel it anyway, what he did care about was how he intentionally hurt the only two people he cared about. And when he waiting in the hospital, where his sister took her last few breathes, the only person who didn't rush there, was his dad. Toby stood by the window and looked out onto the street. He could have sworn he saw things out of the corner of his eye, but quickly blamed it on the medication he had been put on. When dinner time had come around and his mother called up to him, Toby came down the stairs and hesitantly sat down at the table across from his father, and in between his mother and an empty chair. It was quiet as his parents picked at their food, but Toby refused to eat. Instead he just watched his dad with a blank stare.

His mother caught onto his stare towards his father and elbowed him slightly. Toby looked over at her slightly and look down at his uneaten food, in which he didn't touch.

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Toby laid in bed, he pulled his covers over his head and stared at the window. He was tired but there was no way he would fall asleep. He couldn't, there was too much to think about. He had been debating on whether or not to follow his mothers directions and forgive his father, or continue holding a grudge with his boiling hatred. He heard his door creak open, and his mother padded into the room and sat on the bed next to him. She reached over and rubbed his back, which had been turned to her. "I know its hard Toby, trust me, I understand, but I promise you it will get better" she said softly.