I never actually met my real parents, they left me at the door of ”Judy’s Home For Children” after I was born. I guess you could say I met them then,but I don’t really think that counts because it wasn’t like it was quality family time. I never really had a problem with this,because I always imagined they had a good reason for doing so.
I got passed around a lot as a child, I was good for the most part though. Other than a few nut jobs as parent’s it was nothing to insane for me to handle. I mean I know I could have had it much worse and I understand that. It wasn’t until I got fostered by an older (Ancient looking cat lady) that I understood just how bad it could actually get.
I had been through the cycle my whole life and getting to leave the parents who fostered me at that time seemed like a plan. They weren’t mean,but they had 8 kids who were all younger than me and I felt like ripping my hair out and screaming after a few months. When I realized I was going to another family I was ecstatic and imagining all the down time I could have after leaving those snotty children. I got picked up early one morning and got drove to my new “family”.
I paraphrase that word because my new home was with one woman (A very elderly woman) that didn’t say much when I entered. It didn’t seem very welcoming either, the house was old and seemed like it been through hell. Very different looking than the new sub-districts that I usually was put in. This house was in a row with other (Renovated) houses with just a tiny space in-between each house. Enough for maybe a medium sized dog to squeeze between, even so the house looked so lonely there. Like the person in every group that gets looked over, to put it in perspective.
When I entered as I said she didn’t say much,but after awhile of sitting there watching old “The Brady Bunch” re-runs I asked were my room was and she smiled at me and showed me the way. Walking down the stretched out hallway I noticed something odd, it looked liked it was brand new everything. Wallpaper, carpet, desk, and so on. I actually got excited for a moment, I was thinking about all the nice things my room might have. Though expectations got cut short when she opened a room that was dark, only being able to make out the edges of were the concrete floor met the concrete walls. She smiled and began to laugh so I thought it was just some prank,but then something heavy struck the back of my head and I was out.
I woke up in confusion, not much I could make out for the first few seconds except the coldness I felt against my bare back. I sat up finally after I re-collected myself and began to yell for help, it wasn’t long before the door opened and the old woman finally spoke. “If I were you I wouldn’t anger me boy, be silent and things will be explained in due time.” Then she shut the door before I could even become angry.
I wasn’t much of a crier back then,but tears were shed that night. Making my already cold body sore from shaking. I don’t think I mentioned,but my legs and hands were tied up with thick old looking rope. There was no space to move my feet apart,but my hands could be moved about half a foot apart. If I could go back I would probaly gnaw on the rope until my gums all bled,but I wasn’t really thinking straight then. Sooner or later I fell asleep, burdened with exhaustion.
I woke up feeling completely rested,but I was starving. I suddenly realized I would probally end up starving soon if I didn’t eat something. I was about to start crying again at the prospect of needing to eat one of my own limbs (I was such a stupid 17 year old) when something caught my eye. Three plates were laid out in front of the door, all were at there max compacity. Filled with steak, potatoes, green beans, rice, and an assortment of other side dishes and desert. I didn’t think I just ate, and thats how on the 2nd (or 3rd) day of being locked up like an animal I became complacent. I never yelled out after that, never cried, never even really thought about the danger I was in. I just sat there caged up and slept and ate, thats how it went for who knows how long.
One day I came to the realization that I had grown a considerable amount, it was probaly the first coherent thought I had since being locked up. It didn’t bother me much because it made since, don’t move and eat a ton equals massive man b***s. I was already a descently hefty kid,but now I was just straight obese. I started to cry then, don’t know why. I had done that to myself and had put up zero effort into getting out. Hell, I didn’t even know if it was still the same year that it was when I got put in there. I made a pact not to eat another bite,but it only lasted a day before I chowed down once more. It was my only comfort in the position I was in.
I lost track of time after that and it wasn’t long before I started losing my senses. I could no longer tell what was real and what was not and I wouldn’t want to be locked up with what I had become, an animal. Things changed though after yet another food induced coma. I woke up one day and was blinded as soon as I opened my eyes, I honestly think I hissed though I am not for sure. I didn’t actually know what the hell I was looking at for what must have been 15-20 minutes. A lantern, just one in the corner of my room.
I honestly didn’t know what to think, I was aw-struck by it at first. Then I looked down and finally got a visual of what I had done to myself. I was fat and I don’t mean that in the sense that I had only 20-30 pounds to lose. I must have been 150 pounds overweight, it was actually terrifying to look at. I didn’t go to sleep for awhile after that, just stared at the flames dancing in the corner of my little room. When I did though I felt at ease for the first time in (However) long it had been.
The next day I woke up something on my chest, at first I freaked out because I thought it was a bug. In which case I would have probaly strangled myself with a rope. Though it wasn’t, instead it was a peice of torn paper. Not much of a peice,but just conviently big enough for me to think it may have been a c**k roach. It fell on my thigh whenver I finally decided to get over my little spasm over the bug thing. I picked it up and it felt rough against my fingers, all it said was “I WANA HELP U BUT U GOTTA PROMISE U WONT HRT ME. LEAVE THIS NEXT TOO LANTRN IF I CN TRUST U.” It was written in what looked like colored pencil and I knew I had been in there a long time,but I was pretty damn sure that there was atleast a couple of grammatical errors in the paper. I didn’t really know what to do though so I just moved as close as I could to the lantern and threw the damn thing as far as I could. It landed pretty close and I decided I would go back to bed then for a response.
It came in a jiffy whenever I woke up to find a pair of eyes starring back at me. I slashed out in horror,but she just stayed there. It was a girl, a young girl who must have only been 7-8 years old. She was just starring at me and I only became really terrified again when I saw she was holding a kitchen knife. She lashed out at me and I jerked back, sure that would be the end. Instead though the rope keeping my hands bound for all that time was cut. Then she proceded to cut the bindings off my feet.
She started to scream at me,but it was a blur. Only after many seconds that I finally realized she was screaming something. “MOMMAS COMING! RUN RUN RUN!” I then proceded to my feet (painfully) and began to run out the door. I don’t actually know how I got out of that house and the only thing I could remember was the girls screaming being bluntly stopped.
I ended up at a police station later that day, the cops picked me up after many complaints of a “Naked fat guy.” Running on the streets. I explained everything to them as best I could after getting a pair of clothes. It all came out sort of weak though because I had not yet got my bearrings back in order. They understood sooner or later though and I told them the where the house was to the best of my ability. It sort of was easy for them to re-call what house I was talking about though. I mean old,creepy,out of place. Not many houses fit the bill in the neighborhood. So they took off and I don’t remember much after that.
When they entered the house they found the woman (Who ended up being named Tonya Banks) “processing” her dead daughter. She had killed her after finding out what had happened, She was younger than I had thought. Only 6. It was discovered that she was very poor and for much of her life had starved. Only thing she ever owned was the house given to her by her father. She ended up getting an idea on how to get food. She paid a social worker what little she had in an agreement that he brought her foster kids and ”erased” them from the system. She then made make shift rooms to keep the children in and fed them what little she had at first. She waited until they got a little bigger at first then ate them. Selling what she could at the local Flea Market to make ”improvments” to her kids and her house.
Creepy story isn’t it? Though it may be a little dull it’s not the full story. I came to the realization of two when I was older.
One: The “steak” I ate probably wasn’t steak.
Two: Someone other than her hit me in the head when I first got there.
For the longest time I thought it was the social worker,but she just died in prison the other day and I think someones been following me. Someone who looks exactly like her,but much younger and a guy. In his late 30’s maybe. It’s been creeping me out so I decided to do a lot of reearch on the woman. Turns out she had a son who was thought to have the died a long time ago. Though I might be crazy I can’t help feeling that it’s him. Wait somethings knocking on my window. If you read this i’m dead and I want you guys to catch this son of a bitc..
This is my first creepypasta so leave some constructive criticism in the comment section. 🙂 Just tell me what I need to work on.