[TW: Heavy gore/blood]

"Andre! It's time to go!"

Andre's mother sounded from the other room.

"I'm coming!" Andre replied. The young girl was packing her things for school at the last minute, for she hadn't done it the night before. She was holding her breakfast - a cereal bar - in her mouth as she frantically searched the room for the last thing she needed. After throwing her covers off of her bed, she found it. A small plushie, in the form of a gray cat. Its seams were very visible and a bit messy, and it's right eye was replaced with a red button.

It wasn't very normal for a fifth grader to bring her stuffed animal to school, and Andre knew that other kids would most likely make fun of her - that's how it was last year, too. But it was special to her.

Andre had found it on the front steps of her house one day, not even in a box - just standing there. There was a small card under its paw that read "Whipstitch." She didn't know where the plushie had come from, but she loved it nonetheless. Of course, she had noticed the black streak stains under its eye and around the seams of its tail, mouth, and chest. But she assumed it may have gotten wet at some point, and it possibly didn't wash out.

"ANDRE!"

"I'M COMING!"

Andre grabbed her backpack and Whipstitch, stuffing the plushie in her jacket pocket before sprinting to the door, where her mother was impatiently waiting with Andre's brother. Her father was off at work, most likely.

"I thought I told you to pack your things last night!" Andre's mother scolded sharply.

Andre's brother, Cal, just rolled his eyes at Andre before slipping out the door to his own car. Andre quickly followed - Cal was the one who would have to take her to school.

Once they were in the car, Cal started the engine and Andre pulled Whipstitch out to hug him close. Cal noticed, and snorted.

"You still bring that thing to school with you?" he remarked.

"Of course. He's special to me," Andre replied.

"Why, because you're both weird?" Cal chuckled slightly as he said it.

"Hey!"

"It's true."

Andre sighed in annoyance, and sunk into her seat. Sometimes she wished Cal weren't such a jerk.

She didn't notice the slight flash in Whipstitch's glassy eye as she thought it.

--~=+=~--

Andre yelped as she fell, her head knocking the hard floor with a painful thud. Snickers were heard from behind her as she slowly sat back up. Whipstitch was thrown carelessly beside her as the three bullies walked away, still laughing and chatting amongst themselves.

She grabbed Whipstitch from next to her, observing him to make sure he hadn't been damaged. After assuring that he was still in one piece, she put him back in her pocket and walked with the mixed flow of Kindergarteners, first and all the way through fifth graders to the car pickup line.

Andre immediately saw Cal's car parked in a parking spot, as usual, not where the pickup cars were supposed to park. This was fairly normal, so Andre didn't question it as she walked to where he was parked.

Cal was on his phone, scrolling through some social media app Andre didn't recognize. She walked in and buckled the seat belt, still clutching Whipstitch to her chest. He looked up from his phone, noticing my entrance, but said nothing as he put his hand on the gear shift to put the car in reverse. Soon he was on the road, driving about ten miles per hour over the speed limit while looking at his phone still.

Of course, this was doomed to disaster. Even without the outside interference.

No one noticed another flash in Whipstitch's eye when Cal turned the corner and barreled right into another car.

The force of the impact sent Cal's car (as well as the other one) rolling into the ditch like a cube block that someone attempted to roll. Andre screamed, clutching her stuffed animal to her chest as she pulled her legs to her chest. Glass hit her face from almost every angle, and the tossing and turning of the vehicle seemed to throw her brain around in her head.

Finally, after about five seconds that felt like five hours, the car stopped on its side. Andre felt dizzy, her head was pounding, and she felt warm blood trickling from her nose. Her vision spun as she looked at Cal, hardly comprehending the macabre sight that used to be her older brother. His eyes were still open, glazed and lifeless as he hung upside down from the seat, his limp arms touching the ceiling that was now technically the floor. Crimson blood dripped from a wound on his forehead, presumably from hitting the steering wheel.

Andre heard voices from outside the car, faint and distorted, as her ears were ringing. She realized she was somehow still holding Whipstitch close to her, and held him tighter. Someone from outside grabbed her, unbuckling her seatbelt and pulling her out of the vehicle.

That's all she could remember before the world faded to black.

--

It was the next day before Andre awoke again. She was lucky to even have woken up at all - the wreck was pretty severe. She hadn't been injured much, just a bloody nose and a few scratches.

Cal wasn't as lucky. His burial would be later that day.

Once Andre was awake and responding, her mother came to pick her up from the hospital and take her to her brother's funeral. Andre also brought Whipstitch along, somewhat closer to the old toy after surviving the wreck.

The ride to the cemetery was solemn and quiet. Andre's mother firmly kept her hands on the wheel, keeping her eyes on the road.

She didn't want to see her daughter right now.

If only it had been her instead of Cal.

Andre looked at her mother. "Where's Cal?"

Her mother sighed. "Cal left."

"Where'd he go?"

"A place that we can't visit and that he can't leave."

"Where's that?"

Andre's mother sighed in annoyance. She gripped the steering wheel harder. "Fine. You want to know the truth? He's dead. He wasn't as lucky as you were in that wreck. Are you happy now?"

Andre shrunk back, surprised at her mother's sudden aggression. She had seen her mom upset before, but never like this. She turned back forwards, silent as she clutched Whipstitch to her chest for comfort.

Another small flash shone in his eye, sensing her unease.

--

The funeral was short, with Andre and her mother being the only ones that went. They quickly left once it was over. Andre fell asleep in the car on the way home, for it had been an eventful day and a half. Once they were home, Andre's mother attempted to wake her up, but eventually just left her in the car. It wasn't hot outside, and nothing's going to be finding its way into a locked garage, so she'd be fine.

She was on her way to her room when she suddenly... heard something. Like a low, ghostly hum that echoed in her head. Calling to her. Longing for her.

Coming from the kitchen.

Perplexed, she cautiously made her way to the kitchen. She entered the tile-floored room, and flipped on the lights.

Not a soul was there.

Or so she thought.

Andre's mother observed the room closely before shrugging, thinking of it as a simple trick of her head, or maybe the AC was louder than normal.

Until she heard a low growling sound.

The menacing, guttural sonority filled the kitchen, echoing off of the walls from some unseeable source. Filled now with unease and anxiety, Andre's mother looked around. The fact that there was nothing visible brought up her paranoia further.

"W-who's there?" she called out. "Show yourself!"

A low, demonic voice answered her, sending chills down her spine.

"If you say so..."

A new presence could now be felt. Andre's mother turned around.

Her terrified scream was abruptly cut off as the creature's horrific, tooth-filled mouth closed over her head, sending her into the infinite abyss of darkness.

---

Andre slowly blinked her eyes open, groggy from sleep. She was still in the car, which confused her until she saw the garage outside. Her mom must have been too tired to carry her inside.

Yeah.

She opened the door and stepped into the lukewarm garage when she suddenly realized that Whipstitch wasn't with her. She felt in her hoodie pocket, then looked back in the car, digging around under the seats and checking all the dark corners. Her stuffed animal was nowhere to be found.

Andre felt hot tears well up in her eyes. First she loses her brother, and now Whipstitch is gone. How much worse could this week get?

She grumbled, upset as she walked into the house.

Nothing could prepare her for the sight she witnessed.

Her mother was on the ground, unmoving. Or Andre thought it was her mother. Blood pooled from a small, steady stream from her mouth, which was open limply. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, almost hidden by the bloodied mess that was some of her hair. Her torso was almost completely torn open, bloodied ribs poking through crimson-stained flesh.

And standing over it all was none other than Whipstitch.

The usually small, feral-looking gray plushie was now larger and anthropoid. Dark red wings sprouted from his back, and darker colored horns from his head. The seams that were around his mouth, chest, and tail had been torn open, revealing rows of sharp, menacing teeth. All of the artificial mouths were dark crimson, bloodstained.

Realizing the new presence, Whipstitch looked up from his cadaverous meal. His red button eye was consumed by a black substance that also spilled from it like tears, and his other eye, usually blank and glassy, stared into Andre's soul and sent chills down her spine. He grinned deviously.

"Andre... how delightful it is to talk to you formally!" Whipstitch's low, demonic voice seemed to echo within itself.

Andre, traumatized probably for life, was frozen to the spot. Her eyes were wide with terror, and it was all she could do not to scream or cry or curl up on the floor, or even do all three.

Whipstitch tilted his head. "No?" He looked down at himself. "Oh, right. Not the best way to see your friend, now, is it? Hold on-"

He closed his visible eye, and Andre watched as his wings and horns shrunk, his broken seams repaired themselves, and his form shifted back to its usual feral structure. Soon he looked normal, besides the bloodstains that still seemed to cover him from nose to tail. Now when he smiled, it looked a small bit less horrific.

"There we go," Whipstitch said, his voice now sounding like that of a human. "That's better."

Whipstitch casually walked to Andre, still frozen from shock and horror, and rubbed up against her leg like an actual cat. "I apologize for the mess. Didn't expect you to wake up so fast. I would have cleaned up quicker if I had known."

Andre remained silent still, her eyes glued to her now living toy.

"Ahh, I see," Whipstitch said in realization, "You're sad. But don't worry. She wasn't the best caretaker for you. I could see that she never truly thought of you as her child."

Still silent.

He tilted his head. "Are you hungry?"

Finally, she responded with a small head shake no. Even if she had been hungry, her appetite had left as she entered the room.

Whipstitch did some kind of shrugging motion. "Well, your loss. Plenty to eat if your appetite comes back."

Andre felt sick at the thought of what she guessed he was implying.

"Now, don't be frightened," Whipstitch said with a soothing tone, "I won't hurt you. We're friends!" His expression darkened. "But if you want it to stay that way... you have to listen to every word I say."

Andre whimpered, and took a small step back.

"Understand?"

She gave a small nod.

Whipstitch smiled almost sweetly. "Great. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish my meal."

He turned around and lunged for the carcass, transforming to his demonic-humanoid form in midair before digging back into the cadaverous meal.

Andre quickly ran off into the other room, falling to her hands and knees before vomiting on the floor.

Even at her young age, she knew her life would never be the same again.

----

[Eleven Years Later]

Trilace pushed the door open, sticking his phone in his pocket so as to not get in trouble with some teacher patrolling the halls. A steady flow of students walked around him, chatting amongst one another as they walked. Trilace used to have friends. But something happened to them. He doesn't know exactly what, but they all went missing around the fifth grade. Police never found a trace of what happened, not even a clue.

Trilace, however, had a small idea as to what may have befallen his friends.

There's a girl that goes to this school. No one knows her last name, not even the teacher, or where she lives, or even if she has any family. All anyone knows is that she gives off the strangest energy, almost ominous, when she's around people. Trilace had known her since grade school, but even then he had never bothered to ask her name.

And he felt a bit uncomfortable around her, seeing that he and his friends used to tease her all the time about the stuffed animal she had always carried around.

Trilace felt that she had something to do with it. But no one would believe him. And if she knew he was catching on, he'd probably be the next face on a missing poster in town.

Trilace opened his locker, and was surprised to find a small slip of paper taped to the inside. How it got there, he had no idea, but its message was almost foreboding.

Study hall room. 5:00. Be late, and you'll pay the price.

-A

I wonder who "A" is, Trilace thought to himself as he observed the note.

He thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head, but only sees the crowd of students that were still steadily entering the building. Figures.

Trilace stuck the note in his pocket. He'd cross this bridge when it came.

----

4:58.

Trilace leaned against the wall, nervously watching the clock. The large study hall room, apparently also known as the "Great Room" by the label next to the door, was dark and quiet except for the steady blowing of the AC. It was quite easy to sneak in, even at this time. He had lacrosse starting at 4, and it went to 5:30, so he easily snuck in.

4:59.

He felt chills run up his spine as he got the feeling he was being watched. Dark, invisible eyes bore into him from all sides, and he shivered as the room suddenly felt colder.

Suddenly, he jumped as a voice came from the darkness.

"You made it."

Trilace looked at the clock. 5:00 exactly.

"Who's there?" Trilace said into the darkness.

Someone stepped out from a dark corner. Her dark eyes seemed to be filled with foreboding.

It was the strange girl from school.

"Look who fell into the trap," she said to no one in particular. "Trilace. Good to see you again."

"Alright, what's this about?" Trilace said angrily, "Who are you?"

"Oh, right. You never bothered to ask my name all these years. Your friends had the same reaction," the girl said. She smiled sweetly. "But I'm Andre. Nice to finally speak with you."

"So you did cause my friends' disappearances," Trilace said, "Where are they?!"

"Don't worry. I can take you to them," Andre claimed.

This is... is this too easy? Trilace thought to himself.

"Don't be afraid. I want to help."

Trilace took a step forward.

And another.

And another.

But stopped.

Because he saw the gleam of the knife Andre now held in her hand.

"What are you doing?" Trilace queried, fear making his voice quiver.

Andre's expression was stoic as she replied, "Taking you to your friends. Haven't you figured it out? They're dead."

Her emphasis on "dead" made Trilace flinch.

Andre smiled slightly. "Aw, look at the big bad bully now. Usually the killing part of this doesn't please me-" She twirled the knife in her hand, "-But maybe a little bit of revenge wouldn't hurt."

"Andre."

Trilace nearly shrieked in response to the voice that suddenly cut the tension. Andre sighed in annoyance.

"Whipstitch, I had it under control!" Andre complained to the voice.

As she said it, what looked like a small gray cat jumped from the shadows, silently walking towards Andre and Trilace. One of his eyes was a red button, and he appeared to be some kind of stuffed animal.

"You take too long with your little monologues," Whipstitch growled. "Time's up, epic villain monologue over. Now do the job and get it over with, I'm hungry."

Andre rolled her eyes as she turned to Trilace. "Well, bye I guess."

Trilace turned to try and run, seeing what she was about to do, but fell as Andre's knife plunged into his back. Black waves danced in his vision as his head hit the floor with a painful thud. His brain throbbed, and he struggled to keep his eyes open as he coughed up some blood on the carpet.

Andre came into his vision, looking down at him as he started drifting out of consciousness.

He finally blacked out as cold, sharp teeth sank into his neck.

---

Andre watched Whipstitch emotionlessly as he quickly began to devour Trilace's corpse. He had tossed Andre's bloodied knife aside, so she picked it up and grabbed a towel that she always carried in her pocket. The crimson blood stained the towel a darker shade of black than it already was as she polished the metal blade. As she watched it, she saw her reflection in its shiny surface. Noticing a small bit of blood on her face, she wiped it off with her sleeve and sighed.

"Are you happy now?" Andre said bitterly.

Whipstitch, realizing she was talking to him, looked up from his meal. "Hm? Oh, right. If I'm happy isn't really the question here. Are YOU happy with this?"

Andre's blood boiled as her anger suddenly rose. "You think I'm happy with this? You think I wanted this?! I was doing just fine with Cal and my mom! Maybe they weren't the best, but they're better than you!"

Whipstitch chuckled. "Now, Andre, don't get all upset with me. Your mother never truly cared for you. I, however, have always been there for you."

"You call this caring for me?" Andre snapped.

"I've given you the basic needs of living, haven't I?"

"You make me kill people!"

"For a good purpose. Your kind is like a pest, a virus that spreads through this land. You're all weak. We can put a stop to them."

Not wanting to bring the argument further, Andre just sighed in annoyance, storming across the room and sitting at one of the desks.

---

Once Trilace's body was cleaned up, Whipstitch quickly teleported him and Andre back to where they resided: the very house that Andre lived in with her mom and brother. It was old and more run-down now, with everyone thinking it was abandoned, but it was the closest thing Andre had to a home.

Andre walked inside and tossed her backpack into a corner, walking up the stairs to the attic - also known as her bedroom.

The room was nearly bare besides her bed and nightstand. It used to have more, and she had everything still up for a while, but eventually they were too painful to look at. They all held memories from her childhood, and of the innocence she could never return to.

Andre sighed and flopped down on her bed. She pulled the knife she had used to kill Trilace from her pocket and observed its now clean, metallic surface. The light from the window reflected off of it, making the surface gleam.

The more she stared at it, the more her anger rose. She gripped the knife tighter.

She couldn't take this torture anymore.

Memories, good and bad, seemed to flood her mind as she sat up in bed, standing up and walking to the living room. Whipstitch was dormant in there, curled up on one of the remaining comfortable chairs in the room. He looked almost lifeless, like a normal stuffed animal, for his sentient self was... wherever demons liked to reside.

On her way to the living room, Andre had stopped in the kitchen, where she had grabbed something else. An old box of matches.

She now pulled this box from her pocket, opening it and grabbing one of the small wooden sticks inside. Andre dragged it across the side of the box, and it made a small spark as it went alight.

Andre glanced at the sleeping demon on the chair.

She stepped back and threw the match.

And watched as the flammable fabric burst into flames.

The fire consumed the voodoo demon, who had suddenly awoken at the instant, scorching pain. Whipstitch screeched in agony and rage, his already melting eye darting around, looking for the source of the flames.

His eye found Andre, who was standing to the side, watching the only guardian she had left burn to ashes.

Whipstitch growled, then coughed from the hot smoke that clogged his throat. The fabric that made his mortal form was now black instead of gray, some of it peeling off as black fluff spilled from the wounds, seeming to dissipate into black shadow that rose from it.

"That..." he wheezed again, "Was your final mistake..."

Whipstitch's now weak legs gave out beneath him. He gave one last, shuddering breath before the flames consumed him.

When Andre finally put the fire out to prevent it from spreading, there was nothing left of the demonic plushie.

She wiped a tear that had run down her cheek away, and walked back up to her room.

It was done.

Andre looked at her knife, and tossed it on the scorched chair. No more of that.

She would turn herself into the police in the morning. She wouldn't live guilty of the crimes she had committed.

----

Andre's eyes flew open. She seemed to be in a giant, endless ocean of pale brown wheat. The sky above was cornflower blue, and the sun was bright and warm. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair and the plants around her feet.

She took a deep breath. This was... relaxing.

Suddenly, the wind grew stronger. Dark clouds came into view as they swirled in the sky like a hurricane. Lightning flashed, and Andre saw a tree in the distance burst into flames as it split down the middle. The grain around her began to wilt and die, turning gray, then withering to black.

A low, echoing laugh seemed to reverberate in her skull. What seemed to be a mass of black shadow, darker than the darkest night, appeared in front of her. It looked like some kind of spirit, with wings and many twisted horns upon his head. Halos circled around the two near the top of its head. Snow white eyes stared at Andre icily as she looked up at it in fear.

"Hello again, Andre," The spirit said, grinning with white, needle-like teeth

Andre would know that tone of voice anywhere. "W-Whipstitch?"

"A smart one, you are," Whipstitch observed, "It's a shame I have to kill you. Vengeance is what keeps me going."

Black vines of shadow shot from the ground, wrapping themselves around Andre. They pulled her to the ground, immobilizing her.

Whipstitch laughed. "Not so tough now, are you?"

He floated down to Andre's height. Whipstitch created an arm from his shadow mass and grabbed her head with his claws, pulling Andre's face to meet his eyes.

Andre spat in his face. "You're sick."

"Oh, I know that," Whipstitch replied, "And now you'll know what happens when you anger someone 'sick' like me. Maybe it's time you see why they call us voodoo demons"

Whipstitch summoned a small shadow figure in the shape of a human in another hand he had created from his shadow mass. He summoned a tentacle and wrapped it around the figure.

Andre suddenly felt an excruciating pain, as if her heart was being torn from her chest. Her ribs felt as though they were being crushed by some invisible weight, and she coughed as she tried to breathe. Whipstitch grinned, and put the tip of his tentacle where the small shadow figure's mouth would be. Andre gave a sharp gasp as she choked, black shadow now running from her mouth as if she had spit out water. Her eyes turned fully black as well.

Whipstitch yanked the tentacle from the figure's mouth. Andre's head was snapped upwards, her blank eyes looking emotionlessly at the dark sky. The small figure dropped to the ground, as did Andre.

The figure disappeared as it made contact with the earth below. Andre now lay motionless on the ground. No breath stirred.

The demon looked down upon her corpse, and the dark clouds above departed slowly.

"Well," Whipstitch said aloud, "Guess I need to find another puppet. How annoying."

Whipstitch then disappeared, leaving Andre's broken body in this nightmarescape.

A nightmare that Andre would never wake up from.

---

Me: Imma write a short story

Me later with 13 google doc pages: So I wrote a SHORT STORY-

Anyway hope ya enjoyed

4182 words