Chapter Text
"Well shit."
There's not really much else you can say as you stand in front of the battered doorway, flimsy plastic bag of cheap noodles in hand. Your eyes trace the splintered doorway, before finally resting at the fallen remains of the flimsy plywood door, which less than thirty minutes ago had been standing upright.
This was perhaps the worst way you could have ended this already horrid excursion. First, the gas station a few blocks away was out of cup noodles, which you hadn't even known was possible. That meant you had to walk all the way to the supermarket five streets down, which was packed with the rush of Saturday shoppers. This of course means standing in line while a lady with too much time on the clock argues with the poor, underpaid cashier, a shrieking toddler in hand. The whole thing was an anxiety inducing nightmare.
You shudder at the memory before reality catches back up. A groan escapes your mouth as you squint dejectedly at the broken door. "Guess I'm not getting that deposit back."
You sigh, stepping over the pitiful remains of your home's only protection, as you walk towards the kitchen to deposit your hard earned goods. You really were hoping to avoid any more bullshit today.
You deposit the plastic bag on the counter with a light thunk, you could worry about putting it in the cupboard later. Lazily fishing out a cup of noodles from the environmental hazard, you examine the label. It was a new kind you haven't tried yet, little bits of dehydrated meat held within. You fill it with water before popping it into the microwave, instructions not needed.
As you stand waiting for your dinner, you gaze around the kitchen space. Nothing seems to have been taken, which considering how bare the kitchen was on an average basis made some modicum of sense. You weren't poor per say, but when you never cook anything above grilled cheese level, there's not really an incentive to buy many appliances. At least they let you keep your toaster, breakfast would not be the same without it.
A loud beep startles you out of your thoughts as your dinner whines for attention. You hurriedly grab the noodles from the microwave, depositing them on the cheap ikea table gifted by your friend when you first moved in. Within a few minutes your feast is cooled, the noodly-goodness awaiting your fork eagerly. You quickly stab your fork down, twirling it in the noodles like an alligator would to a fresh catch. You slowly lift the fork to your mouth, soon to ease all your day's woes. Finally, with ravenous hunger you-
-CRASH!-
…You put down your fork as you stare dejectedly into the dark hallway past the white painted doorway. It hits you like a bat to the gut that someone may still be in the house. Usually when someone breaks in, they get in and out as fast as possible, so you had assumed they had left already. But you suppose you don't actually know when they broke in.
With a heavy heart, you put down your fork. Safety first.
"Hello?" You call into the empty house.
You garner no response. Because of course, why would an intruder tell you they're hiding?
"Well fuck, now i actually have to go look," You groan.
You suppose you could call the cops, but if you're honest you really didn't feel like it. Too much of a hassle. The intruder's probably just a homeless person trying to find something to eat or sell. Probably.
You grab a rolling pin from one of the drawers. It's never actually been used for its intended purpose, another well-meaning gift from your mother back when she thought you would actually learn how to cook, but at least it's heavy.
"Hellooo?" You call again, hoping the definitely-not-an-axe-murderer will take pity on your poor being. No such luck seems to grace you, as you reluctantly leave the sanctity of the kitchen.
You trod slowly through the dark hallway, squinting into the dark, the burnt out lightbulb you've been meaning to replace taunting you for your lack of night vision.
A door rests ajar at the end of the hallway as you slowly creep towards it. You don't know if you would actually last in a fight were you to get in one, but you could definitely get a couple hits in. Enough to at least make them stumble while you ran out of your poor, ruined door. You definitely needed to get that replaced. Was robbery protected under insurance? Did the landlord even have insurance? That could wait till tomorrow at least, they'd need a nap after all this stress.
You freeze as movement catches your attention from the pitch black room. Shit, there actually was someone. You basically knew this already, but one can hope, right?
"I see you in there, come out already!"
Your yelling does not seem to convince them, as the mystery man on the other side does not budge.
"Look it's been a rather tiring day, I'd really rather not have to socialize any more than I have to." You plead.
Your attempts of verbal resolution fall on deaf ears. You sigh, and heave your rolling pin above your head as you bust open the door with a mighty kick, coming face to face with-
You.
You in a mirror, more specifically.
…
Ah.
You slowly start to giggle at your own silliness, chuckling as you flick on the light with the tip of your rolling pin. The room is empty of any other intruders, unless you count the healthy colony of spiders in the corner. The bare walls are lined with boxes and drawers, filled with items and trinkets delegated to this spare room because they did not fit anywhere else.
You take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror. You look tired. That much is obvious. Besides that, nothing else has changed much. Your fluffy hair has grown maybe an inch or so, but your height sure hasn't. You're still more on the heavy side, you wouldn't say fat though. More just chubby, like a plush teddy bear.
Suddenly a loud bang from behind you startles you from your inner monologue as you spin around, examining the hall for threats. The closet door adjacent to the kitchen looks to have burst open, still swinging wildly in the air.
You tense up, readying your rolling pin as you listen closely. You hear shuffling, thumping footsteps emanating from the kitchen, accompanied by the rustling of plastic, as well as a grotesque slurping sound.
Wait- slurping?
You tilt your head confused, listening for more. Suddenly your eyes go wide
"No…" you whisper in terror, more scared then you have been this whole night.
Slurping- kitchen- No, No NO NO
You sprint to the kitchen, adrenaline fueling your short run as you stop in the kitchen door frame out of horror.
A large, heavy-set man stands in the center of the kitchen. He is slumped, facing away from you. Dressed in a red turtleneck sweater, his head is adorned with the mask of a red devil.
You shiver involuntarily as he slowly turns his head to face you. His cyan eyes meet your gaze, a sick smile twisted onto his face, sauce dribbling down the corner of his mouth. An empty noodle cup is clenched within his red clawed grasp.
You can only say one thing, as a burning rage overwhelms your fear.
"MY FUCKING NOODLES!"