11 Jul Accidents Happen
CHECK OUT MORE STORIES SORTED BY:🏆 Top-Ranked Stories 📅 Recently Published 📚 Category ⌛ Length 📝 Author 📖 Title 📅 Published on July 11, 2019
"Accidents Happen"Written by SteenaStudio
Looking for author contact information? If available, it will be featured at the conclusion of the story. If you are still unable to determine how to reach the author, contact us for more information.
Estimated reading time — 12 minutes
As a kid sometimes your perception of reality and fantasy get all mixed up inside your head, one minute you’re playing with dolls then the next they’re taking you on some kind of mystical adventure through enchanted kingdoms and large castles. Lost in your own little world you don’t see anything wrong, that this was just another normal day for you. It was a routine you had been following for as long as you can remember and that it felt right to subject yourself to your minds wondrous capabilities.
I guess that’s what you could say happened to me, I didn’t snap like most killers out there. Sure I endured trauma and a little pain but nothing that ever turned me into what I am today. The line between reality and fantasy became so blurred to me that I let my mind take control of my body yet at the same time I was conscious of the wrong that I was doing. But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know how to anymore.
I guess I should get on with the main story here…
I can’t tell you exactly who my real parents were or what they looked like, hell I don’t even remember what they sounded like. I can tell you that ever since I was a baby I lived at an all-girls orphanage called ‘Ms. Shines Home For Sweet Girls.’ It wasn’t a horrible place but it wasn’t home sweet home either. I was a bit more closed off than the other curly haired, bonnet-wearing, rose-cheeked girls there. My long, brunette locks were never styled and hung down my face and back giving me as what others called a ‘Creepy’ persona, my bright almost teal colored eyes were covered by my bangs and I always pulled at the itchy frilly dresses the headmistress forced us to wear to look inviting for potential clients. The parents that came in wanting to adopt a precious angel to call their own hardly ever looked at me or gave me much thought, they paid more attention to the Shirley Temple blondes or the Autumn redheads who happily showed the couples their best drawings or favorite dolls and dresses. I loved plants and the outdoors in general but we weren’t allowed to have flowers or weeds inside the building when there was already plenty outside for us to see. It made me upset but I never caused a scene about it.
By the age of eleven, I had seen tons of girls leave the orphanage with their new parents out the door starting their new lives and a part of me was happy for them, but another part of me envied them. I kept hoping and praying that someday a couple would take me in and we could plant our own garden together and have fresh lemonade on our porch, that I could wear all the shorts and pants that I wanted without having to worry about looking like a girl in unbearable skirts. Lots of the other kids used to whisper and tease me saying that no one would want me, that parents were looking for normal kids, not creepy weirdos. But, I was normal. I didn’t do anything wrong to make the parents dislike me. I was polite and spoke when spoken to, I even wanted to show many of the couples that came in my book of herbs and flowers but none of them stayed for very long till another girl came in and grabbed their attention with some kind of stupid, tedious girly thing. Most of the time on purpose. Eventually, I gave up and read to myself in one of the separate rooms away from the other girls and let the sunlight warm me up by the window, watching some birds fly by and the leaves shake on the trees.
But one cool, fall day my dreams came true. A couple had come in looking for a child to adopt as normal, the mother had long black hair that was put up into a high ponytail with striking green eyes and wore a casual business suit with heels and her husband was a foot or two taller than her with short brunette hair and was more casually dressed but clean shaven with blue eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses. I was peeking around the corner from down the hall with my favorite book held close to my chest as the headmistress led the couple into the main room where all the girls played. I couldn’t tell you how long they were in there until the couple walked out from the threshold with a disappointed look in their eyes. I was shocked. Usually, the parents that came in had no trouble at all finding their perfect match but I didn’t see one of the girls holding their hands cheerfully chatting away about how excited they were to go home. The headmistress came rushing out a moment later trying to apologize and offer the parents to browse again in case they missed anyone, as this was going on I was completely wracked with surprise that my book fell from my shaky grasp and hit the wooden floor with a loud thud causing the three adults to turn to me quickly in equal shock.
The couple had their gazes locked onto me and I could feel their eyes scan me up and down, I never had anyone gaze at me for more than a few seconds before, let alone a full minute. My heart was beating so fast in my chest and I couldn’t pull my eyes off of theirs. The headmistress let out an unsure laugh before approaching their sides with her hands folded in front of her, forcing a smile on her aging face.
“Please if you’ll follow me back into the main playroom I’m sure we can-” but she was cut off.
“Who is this young girl?” the woman asked.
The headmistress blinked in confusion as she looked over at me then back at the couple, she never had introduced me to any clients because she noticed none of them paid me much mind in the past but, these people did. Needless to say, she wasn’t fully prepared for this moment.
“Oh this is Myra, she has been here for quite some time. Eleven years in fact. She…well she…” the headmistress trailed off in her own thoughts.
She honestly had no idea what to tell them. Taking a deep breath I took the liberty of properly introducing myself and telling them of my hobbies as well as likes and dislikes. I was friendly and let them shake my hand and the husband was even interested in my book! Turns out his name was Jackson and was an author, his wife Cassandra was a manager at a large company somewhere in the city where they lived. And I soon realized that they were meant just for me. It didn’t take the three of us too long to form a bond and the paperwork for my adoption was set in stone faster than I could blink.
I was so happy.
I said goodbye to the girls and even to my bullies with a smile on my face because I was going to finally be with people who loved me and wanted me when they told me no one would. I was going to have a lovely home and read all the books I could get my hands on from my new father’s library and have my new mother cook me delicious breakfasts every day before school. The headmistress wished me good luck and gave me a hug as my parents packed my bags and we all drove off for the city, for my new life. It was quite a long drive and we had to take rest stops a couple of times to eat or have bathroom breaks plus it gave me time to bond with my parents. The sky was starting to get dark as we continued our journey and passed onto some highways for an exit into the city just a few more miles away. I remember beginning to doze off in the backseat as my parents talked with one another on where my new room was going to be and how they couldn’t wait for their parents to meet me the next day and have me as their new granddaughter. A smile rose on my lips and just listening to them chat away cheerfully made a perfect lullaby for me to nod off to.
Guess it came as no shock to me when I was jolted awake by the sound of my mother screaming at my father to pull over into the other lane but it was too late. A large semi-truck tried to pass us too quickly and rammed its tail right into the side of my parents’ car with so much force that the vehicle screeched across the road and rolled over a guardrail down a small ditch into the nearby forest below. The tumble was painful, I felt my head hit the roof and the sides of the car over and over again until I blacked out from a severe concussion. The last thing I heard was our car windows breaking and my parents’ pained screams of shock and horror.
When I came to I smelled gas of some sort and it burned my nose, my head was spinning and throbbing from the trauma it suffered and there were large bumps on my head due to harsh impact. A hissing sound rang into the air and the sound of crickets chirping was also there. I tried to make sense of what was happening and unbuckled myself from my seat, luckily the car rolled onto its tires but the inside was filled with small twigs, leaves, broken glass, and blood. I could smell it mixed in with the gas and it almost made me faint again but I had to get out of there. I crawled over the seat on my hands and knees and was able to get the broken door open just wide enough for me to slip out and fall onto the cold earth below me. After I took a few breaths and recovered I looked around and saw the dark forest greet me and the red glow of the back brake lights illuminate only a few feet behind the car. I saw my breath fog up in front of me and I realized that I needed to make sure my parents were ok, everything happened in such a blur I had no idea how long I had been knocked out for or if someone was coming to look for us. I ran as fast as my legs could go and when I approached the driver’s side of the car I saw something sticking out of the windshield. Cautiously I walked to the front of the car and almost screamed if not for an icy chill to shoot up my spine paralyzing me in place.
There he was. My father. He had gone through the windshield and the glass impaled his chest and throat. His eyes were rolled upwards and blood was everywhere from the wounds and even stained the glass and his clothes. His glasses were broken and bent out of place, his hair matted with blood and tiny bits of glass from the windshield. I wanted to cry, but my eyes scanned his lifeless body and my mother was in no better shape but I could hear her still gasping for air. She was alive! With haste, I sprinted to her side and threw open the passenger side door and stared at her slouched over the console and glove box, her neck was broken out of place and blood was running down her mouth and some branches were in her arms and sides. It looked like she was trying to tell me something but she couldn’t speak properly, all she could do was choke on her own blood, look at me with her eyes and then went lifeless.
I finally had everything I had ever wanted only for it to be ripped away. A large part of me died that day as well, I had given up on life completely now that it was all gone again and…I wept. I wept for what felt like hours, was I cursed? Doomed to live a horrible life? No, I didn’t want that. I learned growing up how to take certain situations towards my advantage, but how was I going to do this? I was just an eleven-year-old kid lost in the woods with nothing to eat or warmth from the cold. I was surely going to die out here. I needed to make a fire somehow first but there was no lighters or matches in the glove box. I guess that I could hide and seek shelter inside the trunk of the car, it was better than standing out in the cold.
I had to haul all my luggage out of the trunk and throw it on the ground then climb inside and close the lid with what little strength I had left. I hurt all over and I was exhausted, I completely passed out yet again until dawn approached and I heard footsteps outside. Their feet crunched the leaves and circled the wrecked car until someone with a deep voice noticed all my luggage on the ground and began to go through it. I was scared but I stayed still and made sure to not make a single peep, the person let out a disappointed grunt after finding out it the cases were filled with nothing children’s clothes and books but then I heard another person creaking the side of the car to peek into the backseat or into the front and passenger side doors, whistling afterward. The voice was definitely female.
“Shit, these guys really had a bad accident just look at the way this guy is practically impaled on the glass!”
“Hmph. Sure but if it’s just them in there then where is the kid? I doubt these bags belonged to the adults.”
The other, deeper voice that was closest to me poked my bags once more, and then stood up and my heart stopped when he stood in front of the trunk. Were these people going to kill me? A part of me hoped they did so that way I could be with my parents but another part of me wanted to live for whatever reason. I tightly closed my eyes as the trunk was lifted up and I felt the sunlight hit my face and cause me to curl up tighter in a ball. Long story short the man and the lady were what they called ‘Woodby Hunters’ and somehow felt pity for me and offered to let me tag along with them unless I wanted to just sit there and die. Maybe they could be my new parents as stupid as that sounded. With no other option, I agreed to let them take care of me and from that day on I changed little by little.
I had to learn how to survive in the woods and hunt for my own meal, heal myself, look out for my partners, wield weapons, etc. Over the years I had forgotten what normal human interaction was like, I left all my things behind for this new life I was living of gutting out animals and stealing from other woodland people to survive in the unforgiving forest. My survival instincts and the need to kill to eat, or keep myself warm, blinded me from who was friend or who was foe. Even the two people who took me in were now my enemies. I didn’t know why this happened, I guess it’s because I was so young and so new to this wild lifestyle of freedom starting out and being able to kill and take from whoever I wanted without being judged got to me in ways I had no idea was possible. The older I got the bigger my targets became and the more I needed to protect myself. I was blurring protection from assault, survival for murder and I couldn’t stop. The first time I killed was when my caretakers had fallen asleep, I was around sixteen or so.
My mind kept telling me that they were going to kill me and take my things to survive for themselves and betray me, leave me because that’s what everyone did out here to keep going. My weapon at the time was a sharp stick-like spear and I crept over to the male first and quickly impaled his neck and broke his jaw so he wouldn’t be able to scream. After that, I jabbed the stick into his neck over and over until I could see his esophagus. He bled out like a pig and eventually died. I had to keep going or else I to would die. My body was on autopilot and I grabbed the large knife that was attached to the man’s belt and approached the woman covered in fresh blood and panting like a parched animal. The female was more aware than I thought but before she could grab her weapon and defend herself I plunged the knife into her face as more blood squirted onto me. I also broke her neck for good measure. Both were now dead. My newfound supplies and I were safe.
But now I was all alone again.
Letting myself relax and let the fire crackling soothe me, I took a deep breath and began undressing. I needed to get out of my soiled clothes and move to a new location before wolves or other predators smelled the fresh kills and came closing in. My mind was racing. I took the female’s backpack and filled it with food, weapons, and whatever else I could fit into it. I also swapped clothes with her. Luckily, she and I wore a similar size. She had a red plaid sleeveless shirt, a pair of dirty, bloody, ripped up jeans, and Converse shoes, as well as a grey beanie. The shirt was a little loose but I simply tied it at the end to fit my form perfectly, and decided to cut my long hair with the bloody blade into a shoulder-length style. It was starting to get on my nerves anyway. Allowing the strands of hair fall onto my palm, I quickly made my way over to the roaring flames and burned the hair, then ran out of there with my backpack filled with survival gear.
I always complained and had fears about being alone with no family to call my own, but now I was so used to being free, who did I even need? I loved being my own person, and now killing for my survival or whatever I wanted to call it. I just needed to kill and take from others to keep alive out here. The woods were now my home, the place where I belong. I hated it when reckless kids came out here to party or have sex, and loathed it when they were careless and smashed their bottles against the trees, but they did have food and clothes so I had to do what I had to in order to survive. If that meant slaughtering them all was the answer, then so be it.
Along the way, I got cool stuff: some bracelets off the teens that came in, a new backpack, and a s’mores keychain I called Mr. Fudge Fuck for the hell of it. Now that I look back at my life, I realize I didn’t choose this path. This path chose me. Call it selfish or childish, but when the world takes enough from you, it’s about time you take it all back.
After all, accidents happen.
This story was submitted to Creepypasta.com by a fellow reader. To submit your own creepypasta tale for consideration and publication to this site, visit our submissions page today.
🔔 More stories from author: SteenaStudio
Rate this story:
Creepypasta.com is proud to accept horror fiction and true scary story submissions year-round, from both amateur and published authors. To submit your original work for consideration, please visit our story submissions page today.