Chapter Text
10/10/19XX, 9:06am
Dear God, what have i gotten myself into? When I heard about the sun thingy made a promise to myself that I would let every survivor that came to my door stay in my house. That means I've had a good few strangers come to my door seeking refuge. Most of them are very thankful, and quite interesting (even the ones I had to kill) ...but there's always a select few that tend to...stick out in terms of attitude. That was the case yesterday, when I made the grave mistake of sticking to my promise and let in this weirdo. He came to my door at around 3 in the morning, and he seemed...strangely calm. He told me through the door that he was staying at the...Home Hope Hotel, and he was 'too scared' to go back. He was giggling, though. It was pretty weird. I asked him why he thought it'd be any better in here, and he gave a very vague answer, saying my house wasn't 'teeny-weeny', like his hotel room.
What the fuck?
To be honest, I just sighed and let him in. He's definitely fucked in the head, and I didn't get a good enough look at him to see if he had weapons or anything. I should probably go get up and check him now, since its morning. I just hope he's not another visitor...
I throw on my hoodie and make my way into the kitchen. It's warmer than it was yesterday, but it doesn't matter anymore. The lady I let in last week is crumpled over the table, her tarot cards in hand as she nods at me, smiling with too many teeth in a greeting. I thought she was a visitor at first, but man, that lady's way too humane to be a visitor. Even if she was a visitor, I wouldn't have the guts to shove the gun in her mouth. I don't even want to shoot anymore, I'm too tired. I grab my stale slice of toast and make small talk with the Tarot Lady, while the whole world wonders what to do in the apocalypse. I finally decide to leave and check on that new guy, so I get up and leave the kitchen, and the Tarot Lady barely says a word.
Before I even begin to creak open the door to go talk to this weirdo, I can already hear him. He's like...giggling, I can hear it. God, here goes nothing.
"Hey...can I come in?", I ask, sounding nervous.
"O-Of Course! Tehehe..."
I open the door, and this is the first time I get a proper look at this fucking lunatic.
He was wearing a pale blue tank top and some stained black pants, and paired with the greasy, shoulder-length hair, he looked like he had just escaped a grippy-sock vacation. His blue eyes peered up at me, with the most strange and uncanny smile I've ever seen, and it made me notice the strangest thing about this guy- his left arm was fucking destroyed in scars. They were impossible to miss, each cut having its own neat red mark, trailing up his arm like soldiers, in neat lines. He must have noticed my gaze, because his hand instinctively went to cover them, as he giggled.
"Oh, you weren't supposed to see that...tehehe..."
I snap out of my trance. "What? Oh, no, it makes no difference, don't worry...".
"Mmm, don't wanna go back there...", he says, muttering to himself.
The fuck?
"You're strange", I say bluntly, as I sit on the floor, to be level with him.
He giggles, yet again. "That's because I'm from the loooooooony bin!"
I raise an eyebrow, letting him continue.
"They locked me up in that shithole for ten whole years, tehehe. And it was my folks' fault, they still think I'm craaaazy, all because of that teeny-tiny thing when I was just a lil' fella!", he spoke, with a slight Southern accent.
"Oh.", I say, not knowing what to say as he smiles at me. At least I can tell his teeth aren't perfect, and his gums aren't bleeding. "That's...erm...".
"Creeeepy?" He says, leaning forward on his hands. "That's what my doct...or said 'bout me. Was he right, hehe? I still hear them whisperin' bout' how strange I am. Can you hear them whisper-whisper-whisper toooooo?"
At this point, this guy is RIGHT in front of me. He's blinking at me like a wild animal, and honestly, I'm too creeped out to say anything. "Erm..."
He obviously senses my discomfort, but he doesn't seem to care.
"What's your name...tehehe?" He asks, blinking innocently.
"Oh, erm, its Y/N" I answer, my voice shaking.
"Y/N...", He repeats, "Y/N...you're pretty..."
Jesus Christ, of all the things he could've said, that was NOT what I had expected.
"Oh, erm, th-thank you...But I really...I have to go now...", I mumble. God, my cheeks must be red or something.
"I'll be see...Ing you then, tehehe", he giggles, "Toodlesssss!"
I leave the storage cupboard, standing up and closing the door.
I genuinely need to get a fucking grip.