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

House of Cards

Each step taken down the hallway to Painter's door gets heavier and heavier. My mind flashes back to Ann's advice:

"It is best to confront her; doing so may catch her off guard as well as reveal her hand. Painter may know that you caught on, but assume she has not. We need every bit of information that we can gather. In her creative mind, every 'insignificant' detail contributes to the whole masterpiece. Play it smart and fence with her wit. She is arrogant and will no doubt spill some crucial information that may help us later."

Ann acts like I know what I'm doing. Talking to someone like Jess or Benny is easy enough, but Painter? She's like a lioness waiting to clamp her jaws around my neck after she finishes playing with me. If something goes wrong, she might reveal her ace in the hole instead. By then, it might be too late.

Of course, Painter is busy providing therapy to Angel... more like brainwashing. Before I can knock on the door, Painter calls me in. I open up the door, and Angel brushes past me with a friendly smile. She closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with Painter.

"I told her that you applied for a therapy session, so do not worry. Whatever happens here will forever remain hush-hush," Painter chuckles sinisterly.

I stand my ground, "You know I've caught on, then."

She picks up a paintbrush, "I did not 'catch on.' I anticipated this," Painter dunks it into a water cup, "I doubt you underestimate me. In fact, I firmly believe you know the damage I can cause with a single claim."

Her mask is all smiles.

"Slenda will punish you. Once she finds out, you'll be-"

Painter raises her voice, no longer speaking with a bright and cheerful tone, "I will be what? Jailed? Beaten? Exiled? These are extreme outcomes. Jess cut Jane's throat open and was only barely saved by Ann, but Slenda merely slapped Jess on the wrist and took away her knives for a year. What would Slenda do to me for one big misunderstanding? You do not know Slenda; she cares too much for us to see any of us hurt, especially by her own hand."

"You're using her," I growl, "You're using everyone."

"Using? Please. I am not using anybody," she finds a blank canvas, "They all heed my words without a second thought because I am the innocent, kind, and friendly Bloody Painter. It is not my fault that they are sheep who follow a false shepherd. Ann is the only one who can see through my lies, but I have already dealt with her. After all of the years of bitterness she has shown to the girls, no one will believe her."

She seems to have miscalculated Jane's trust.

"You say you're not using anyone, but you're using Angel. I know that for a fact. You're keeping her around so that no one can lay a finger on you," I argue.

Her brush freezes mid-stroke, "Have you come here to tell me things I already know, or have you come to submit?"

I step closer to her, and she moves aside from her painting, revealing my mutilated body with everyone's weapons stabbed into my back.

"Do you know why Brutus killed Caesar, (Y/N)? Brutus loved his country more than his friends and, fearing that Caesar would become a dictator, he assembled a group of senators to betray him for the good of the republic," Painter gets closer and squeezes my arm gently, "My republic is more important than your wretched life. If you continue to interfere... you will find many weapons buried in your back."

Blackmail. My life is on the line, and Ann's might be too. She'll be the only one that will talk reason into Slenda's mind if she's really wrapped around Painter's finger. The question is whether or not we'll be killed, though. Painter said it herself: Slenda only hands out slaps on the wrists. Maybe there's nothing to lose.