➶The archive of you. - Object Shows x Reader Oneshots➷

Climbing up the ladder, you pulled yourself into the dusty old attic.
You didn't know where you were, you didn't know who you are.
Your thoughts were a swarm of voices, so many voices of all different kinds.
Are you one person? Are you multiple?
𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦?
And yet, you explored the dark space you were in, like you were on autopilot.
You were unable to control your movements, and yet you couldn't find it in yourself to care.
Everything in your brain was just noise. Meaningless, jumbled noise that drove you insane. You would've cried, you would've screamed for help, you would've thrashed and sobbed, but you couldn't. The voices grew louder, some sympathetic, most not caring.
You had the feeling that the voices didn't know the effect they had on you, not until now.
But why did they know now?
You came to a sudden halt. The feeling of leather on your skin was enough to drag you into reality, if this even was real.
A book. The voices had led you to a book.
A book with a childish drawing of a blue creature on it, black text crudely pasted on it. You didn't understand what it said.
The voices grew louder. Were they tired of you? Were you taking too long?
Your arms move on their own. They were never really yours anyways.
𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕠𝕜, 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟.
The voices disappear, one by one. Their requests have been answered, and as they leave, they take a little piece of you.
Piece by piece, voice by voice, you are ripped apart.
There's nothing of the original you left.
But the pieces of you slowly grow, each into their own person.
You may not exist anymore, but they do.
They will satisfy the readers now that you can't.