New beginnings. (sally face x reader)

-14-

(f/d)= favourite dessert

Grandma Mabel was NOT happy to see her broken crystals.

she definitely wasn't happy when she found out that all of her religious artifacts were gone too.

"i promise i didn't do it though! i'm telling you, there was something- it looked like mum!"

Your grandmothers only shook their heads.

"sweetheart, i love you. but what your speaking of is simply atrocious! ghosts in the night? breaking crystals and stealing crosses??"
"Mabel, calm down. sweetheart, you said that someone broke in? why didn't you contact the police?"
"because it wasn't a robbery! everything was there when it happened!"

Your grandmothers simply sigh.

"(Y/n) (L/n). i am astounded at your current actions. you may be riled up by the robbery but that gives you NO right to ignore it and call it a paranormal phenomenon. go to your room."

with a point of her finger, grandma Mabel sends you off. 
she looks like she is about to cry, her voice breaking with each word.

you feel like shit, questioning if your actions were right.
if they were a burglar why did they look like.. why did they look like your mother?

tears well up at your eyes, thinking about her, about your grandparents, about your actions.
you.. you almost unconsciously tried to ignore your own mourning process. giving yourself dreams about her as if she were still there, distracting yourself with your friends.

for,, the first time in awhile you cry for your mother.
hot tears stream down your cheeks as you clutch into a pillow, thinking about how she must have felt, watching the motorcycle coming straight at her.
they said the death was instant, but how did they know?
what if her death was slow- the way her eyes stared straight at you, what if she died in pain, died stuck in a box full of blood and brain matter?

first you sobbed for your mother, then you sobbed for yourself. it felt like the world was coming down onto you- how could you live without her?
you were but a young child, your world since birth ripped away from you.
you miss her hugs, and her kisses.
you miss how she would take you out on late night road trips.

everyone calls death the scariest, most morbid thing to happen to you.
but nothing's worse then having to live through it.

you sob and sob for as long as your body could let you, before passing out from exhaustion.

as you drift back into nothingness you are met again with your mother.

before your brain can do any more damage you stop her from speaking.

"why are you doing this to me?"
once again, you start to cry.
this week has been an emotional week for you, hasn't it?

"i'm trying to help."

"what does that even mean?? what do you ever mean?! why are you torturing me like this?"

you try to claw at the fragmented version of your mother.

"just stop! please..."

it's like you have hit a glass wall, fists punching and clawing to get toward her.

she raises a pale blue hand to the invisible wall, screwing her face in a weird way.

"you are ignoring the truth."

"you aren't real! just stop it!"

"you think if you turn your head on me, that i will just go away. that i am but a figment of your imagination."

you fall to your knees, ripping at clumps of your hair,

"just.. go away. your hurting me so much.."

she steps through the barrier, placing a soft hand on your head.

"i never meant to hurt your mental state (Y/n). i hope you realize how hard it is to contact you while i decay, while they scramble my mind."

you stare at her sunken face through blurry vision, letting out a pathetic sob.

"i fear for i have a short time before i am completely gone."

she bends down and hugs you tightly, but all you do is just sit there.

she isn't real.
you are doing this to yourself.
that's the only reasonable explanation.

"s hes  n    co i g     ell  should      th   rip  st"
grandma Carols worries voice speaks through broken words.

your mother once again stands, unwrapping her bony arms from your body.

"you should wake up. your grandmothers are waiting for you."

then, you feel like your thrown back into the real world, cold air hitting your face.

"Sweetie, can i come in?"
Grandma carol speaks with a soft voice, awaiting your answer.
"...I have hot chocolate and (F/d)"
"you may enter."

she steps in, a silver tray in her hand, filled with your favourite delicacy and two mugs of hot chocolate.

"i'm sorry sweetheart, for the way your grandmother acted."
she pauses, thinking about what to say.
"she.. she felt very afriad, when she found out about the robbery. she was mad about all of her things getting stolen, but she was moreso afriad for you. she was terrified about how it could've gone wrong."

you nod slowly, sniffing.

"i really do hope you can forgive her for being so mean. she regrets the way she handled the situation."

"don't worry, i understand how she feels."
you really do, you felt very afriad and like you were going crazy when your mothers pin went missing. and it would be tenfold, coming home and realizing everything you used as an object of worship was gone. all of that time, money and faith thrown away and such.

"Your grandmother and I were talking about it, and you said you saw your mother. we really think all of us should see a therapist, it will help with the way you feel about her death. and all of us can do it together, because we all need this."

a therapist... you have never gone to one.
you think over what she said, Grandma carol staring at you with lovely green eyes.

"yeah.. a therapist doesn't sound so bad."