5 years ago.
You slowly looked between the three bullets wounds in your chest and Vanessa's eyes changing from stoic to shock. The pain slowly started, but you were losing too much blood too fast. No one could really assume an 8-year old would be strong enough to push through three bullet wounds. So, you just fell to the ground.
You were already dead the moment Vanessa rushed over to you and still tried to find a pulse. She never meant to kill you, she needed to kill your father, she instantly shot the person when she heard footsteps. But it only recurred to her that the steps were too light and too jumpy for a grown man, after she saw you with blood seeping out of your chest.
And just like that, Vanessa needed to cover your murder up, slowly dragged you to an abondened playroom with an animatronic that had way too many sharp toys. To your father, the sheriff. And to the entire world, you were just clumsy, ran into a playroom and accidently hurt yourself. The media believed the bullshit instantly.
Five days after your death, it was supposed to be your birthday. You talked about it for so long to Vanessa, telling her how you thought that your father would probably forget it, but you weren't mad at him. You saw his stress and frustration at home, so you never talked to him about your birthday, he forgot it every year because of his work.
You didn't know about the huge gift or party he was going to throw for you. The restaurant you always liked to go eat, he planned the party there. And, when he heard of your demise, he didn't cancel it, he just sat there alone just staring into nothingness.
And, Vanessa still worked for your dad. She saw the man's light slowly fade in his eyes, until he just sat at his desk and smoked the whole day. When it was your birthday, he still bought colourfull hats and a cake, before never eating the cake and throwing it away. He sometimes drank, asked her questions about your death, how you got into the room.
And Vanessa? She lied again, before convincing him that you were a troublesome child, always disobeying her when he left. She couldn't deny, it hurt her heart when she told it and he believed it. But her chest tightened everytime now that he called you a troublesome girl and that you got karma, ofcourse, he was drunk to the point where he couldn't even stand, so he forgot about those words when he sobered it.
And she was supposed to be sleeping. She is, but she's suddenly standing in your house. Right at the front door, when she suddenly hears the litght hums, like a person being distracted or focused on something so hard they don't even notice their mouth is doing something. So, she went up the stairs, and entered your room.
Yeah, it would've been a pretty sight. If she didn't already realise that this was one of her dreams. Meanwhile you were just laying on your bed, drawing something on the paper infront of you, crayongs surrounding your body. You didn't notice Vanessa, not yet, you were busy finishing your masterpieces. Until you finally looked up.
"Vanessa! You're finally here, my dad already left early. Apparantly, some old man doesn't want to pay for his groceries and wanted to leave the store in his car."
You say, your voice in that usual light and cheery one, but it sounds strange, on one point, you sound so cheerful, but your voice also sounds cold. Your pupils are too tiny too make anyone believe that you're still alive.
"Yeah...he told me that. What are you drawing anyway?"
She asked, trying to figure out what was happening right now, but still wanting to continue this dream, to speak to you after so long.
"Me and my dad, I understand why he's so stressed and I'm too scared to remind him of my birthday," you answered, focusing on your drawing again, "Why did you tell my dad I was a troublesome child?" You suddenly asked, your voice way too serious for a kid.
"What? What are you talking about?"
She announced, understanding your question but not yet wanting to believe it. Looking between you and the paper that you were drawing on.