Just letting you know now, this story is rated M for horrific scenes of violence, implied rape, etc, etc. If you're squeamish or easily frightened, I'll warn you not to read this. Also, for the grader, the Pokemon capture info is in the spoiler at the end, but I'd encourage you not to look at it until after you read this. ^^
ALSO THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO SCOURGE. BAHAHAHAAHAHAHA
Hush little baby, don't say a word
And never mind that noise you heard
It's just the beast under your bed,
In your closet, in your head
-Enter Sandman, Metallica
Hello, little mouse.
No, no, no, not again, Clarissa thought desperately. She didn’t want to hear Its voice. Not tonight, not ever again. A cold chill ran down her spine and her heart started hammering wildly, but there was nothing she could do. It was as if she was tied to her bed. She couldn’t move an inch.
You’ve been bad, little mouse. Suddenly, she could see It standing at the foot of her bed. It was shaped like a man, but she couldn’t see Its features or anything about It. It was entirely drenched in shadows. He was beyond her understanding, beyond her control. It placed a hand on her thigh and chuckled, a deep sound, closer to a growl. I know what you did today, little mouse. You shouldn’t talk to little boys that way, dearest. It ran Its hand up her body and settled it on her neck. Everywhere It touched her felt ice cold. She began to shake uncontrollably.
“Please,” she begged, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” She knew it was no use, but she had to try anyways. It began to stroke her hair and she noticed that somehow, It was darker than her long, black hair. What was darker than black? Evil, It answered. It wasn’t afraid to admit it. It knew what It was, had accepted Its fate. As Its hand ventured farther down, Clarissa began to cry.
When Clarissa woke up, she made sure the door to her room was locked and closed before taking off her nightshirt. She stared in her mirror for a moment at the deep gashes on her back. She trembled as she remembered how far down they went. Quickly, she threw on a grey sweater, desperate to keep her wounds out of view. Still, every step she took was torture. She could do nothing to hide her limp.
Every second of her day was agony. Every tick of the clock hands brought her closer to night, closer to It again. She couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t look at them. If she accidentally made eye contact with one of her teachers, she quickly looked away, afraid that they could see inside her head. She felt as though It were watching her, following her every move, and of course, It was.
The voice startled her and she stumbled, barely managing to grab onto a desk. For the first time that day, she registered where she was. It looked like her math class.
“Clarissa, I haven’t talked to you all week. Where have you been?” A hand grabbed hers to try to help her up, but she pulled away. She couldn’t handle anyone touching her. “Oh, sorry.” The boy glanced away, embarrassed.
“No, it’s okay….” She looked down and back at him. Somehow, she couldn’t see him, couldn’t keep a picture of him in her mind. Suddenly, she felt a creeping realization. It was taking it. “I have to go,” she said and hurried away. The rest of the day, she tried to keep her mind blank, but images kept coming up; of things she had done a few weeks prior with that boy, of parties she had been to, of all the things she could never do again or It would punish her. Finally, the last bell rang. She cried out inside as the sound reverberated through the school. Only a few hours left until It was with her again.
She gave up trying to do her homework, as it made it too easy for her thoughts to wander. Instead she began to pace impatiently. She finally lay down on the couch, her Glameow resting in the crook of her arm. The gray and white cat Pokemon purred happily. Clarissa didn’t notice as she drifted off to sleep. As soon as she felt the cold, black fear settle over her, she realized her mistake.
You were talking to the boy again, little mouse. I know you liked those things you did.
“No, I didn’t! I swear to God I didn’t!” she screamed hysterically.
Hush, little mouse. You’ll only make this worse.
Clarissa looked down and saw a rope binding her to the couch. The rope dug into her skin, rubbing it raw. It softly touched her cheek and she tried to pull herself away, but the rope held her in place. She shrieked in pain as it pulled against her skin. “Why?” she pleaded with tears in her eyes.
Somebody has to punish you. Someone has to teach you right from wrong, little mouse. Who else would do it? Who else would make sure it hurt, would make sure your scars always reminded you? Do you know where you’d be without me? Why, you’d probably be with that nasty little boy again.
Her breath quickened as It placed a hand over her mouth. It didn’t need to. No one could hear her in this nightmare land. It did it because It knew it frightened her. It knew that there were few things as bad as being completely silenced, unable to cry out or ask for help. She struggled as It climbed on top of her. She tried to bite Its hand, but couldn’t. It was as if It was made of smoke. It pulled back Its hand and smacked her across the face. Now, It was tangible. Tears spilled over from her eyes and It traced one with Its finger.
Clarissa woke up an hour before her mother was supposed to come home from work. She stood up and every muscle in her body ached. She felt as though she’d been beaten. Actually, she thought bitterly, I have. She limped to the bathroom and started a shower. As she undressed, every bruise and cut stood out to her, each one a reminder of what would happen if she angered It. She couldn’t help it. Everything she did seemed to be worth punishing. She would have to stop talking to people altogether. Otherwise, it would only get worse for her. The warm water stung her, but she had to wash away Its touch, had to get It off of her skin. The area around her waist where the rope had dug in was the worst. There was an ugly bruise all the way around and it bled in certain areas. It would probably get infected. She tried to scrub at it with the soap, but it was too painful.
Clarissa didn’t sleep that night. Instead, she took a small flashlight and hid under her covers with a book, Alice in Wonderland. She had hoped the familiar story would comfort her, but it suddenly seemed sinister. As Alice fell down the rabbit hole, Clarissa had to sympathize. She knew what it was like to be pulled into the abyss, unable to find your way out again.
The next morning before school, Clarissa’s mother stopped her. “I noticed you were up all last night.”
Clarissa nodded ashamedly.
“You’re sixteen, Clarissa. Don’t you think you should stop acting like a child?”
She nodded again.
Her mother frowned and pushed a piece of black hair out of her eyes. She looked almost exactly like an older version of Clarissa. The only difference was that Clarissa had blue eyes, while she had brown. “I don’t want it to happen again,” she said, “Or you’ll be grounded. Do you understand?”
Another nod. If you knew what it was like when It touched you… Clarissa’s thoughts trailed off.
During school, she couldn’t concentrate at all. Her eyes kept closing and she would have to shake her head and bring herself back to the waking world. She couldn’t fall asleep here. Several of her teachers shot her reproachful glances when they noticed her falling asleep. “You used to be such a good student….” They would mutter.
On the way home, the boy stopped her again. She only recognized him because of his voice. “Clarissa, what’s happening to you?”
She just stared at her feet.
“You’ve been so distant….You won’t talk to anyone. Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong? We used to be best friends.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, trying hard not to start crying. Guilt pulsed through her, along with fear. Now that she had spoken to him, It would punish her.
The boy took her hand. This time she let him. “You can tell me anything, Clarissa. I promise.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek, the same spot where It had touched her the previous day. Instead of feeling like ice, however, it felt warm. She hugged the boy before turning around and limping the rest of the way to her house. He didn’t try to follow her.
What have you done, little mouse? It didn’t yell, but Its voice was filled with rage. How dare you let that nasty little boy touch you? How dare you touch those nasty little boys?
Clarissa began to tremble as he grabbed her arm and dug his nails in. She whimpered in pain.
I guess my lessons aren’t getting through to you, little mouse. I’ll just have to try harder. It clicked Its tongue impatiently. I thought you would have learned by now not to disobey me. It raked its nails down her spine, reopening her other cuts. An inhuman scream passed from her lips. And you still can’t stay quiet, little mouse! Clarissa screamed again as she felt a terrible burning sensation all over her body. It stopped suddenly and was replaced by Its hands, running all over her. The sudden change from hot to cold was worse than anything. She started to scream, but It wrapped its hands around her neck.
It sighed heavily. You just never learn, little mouse. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Actually….Its hands gripped her neck tighter. Clarissa felt lightheaded, as though she were on the verge of passing out. It chuckled again.
Clarissa Evans was found dead in her home at 7:42 A.M. on January 29 2011. Her cause of death was reported as asphyxiation. She was found covered in bruises and lacerations. Her only living parent, her mother, Melissa Evans, was arrested on charges of child abuse. The family’s Glameow was confiscated by the local Pokemon Shelter.
Three days later, the Evans’ elderly neighbor, Mr. Johnson was planting in his garden when he heard a noise coming from the Evan’s porch. He peered under it to see an ugly yellow and black Pokemon.
“Drow…zee…zee,” it said and yawned.
Mr. Johnson smiled benignly at the Pokemon. “C’mere little guy. What’s your name?”
The Pokemon ventured closer to him and sniffed him with its trunk-like snout. “Drowzee, drow.”
“Your name is Drowzee? Why don’t you come inside with me?”
The tapir Pokemon crawled out from under the porch and stood on its hind legs. It made a soft trumpeting noise. Mr. Johnson laughed and pet it affectionately. “C’mon, I’ll find you some food.”
As soon as Mr. Johnson turned around, the Drowzee smirked evilly. It had found Its next victim.
Don't read this until after you read the story.