A/N: okay I lied about the DAILY part. So sue me. I should get back on track with my bloody trapland uploads next week. this is just kind of a filler because i have no idea what should come next in the other storyline. this is just kind of a funny "what would happen if" story. in it, Cry, Toby and Brook will be people that are recieving mail- special delivery. Mystery/adventure.
Cry's P.O.V.
I shuddered as i gazed outside and thought of how cold it would be to be about outside in this bleak weather.
The soft white flakes fell slowly and spun to the left as the numbing wind shoved it playfully. I was jerked from my thoughts by a sharp knock at the door. I pulled myself off of the warm couch and walked over to the door, red blanket draped on my skinny shoulders. I was about to turn the doorknob, but I stopped to adjust my mask so it covered my eyes better. I pulled the door open to see the postman standing in the doorway shuddering, a small white envelope in his pale hands. "T-t-thanks." I said through chattering teeth, and took the envelope. He smiled and walked back to the parked pale blue mail truck. I shut the door and half ran to the couch. When I sat down again, I frowned to see no return address on the envelope. Just then the telephone rang. I sat up and groaned, obviously miserable to have to move from the warm couch again. I picked up the phone and asked "Hello?" annoyed. "Good to see you're still grumpy!" toby laughed over the phone. "What do you want?" I questioned rudely. "Just wanted to see how you are doing." He sang through the earpiece. I swear my face turned bright red under my mask and I popped a blood vessel. "STOP CALLING ME TOBY! I SWEAR YOU'RE RETARDED!" I yelled at the top of my lungs and slammed the phone down on the receiver. Yes. I have anger problems.
The reason I have these problems is because when I was 7 I was adopted by an abusive family, and they hated me so much that they put me back up for adoption after 2 months. Then I was adopted by a nice woman named Dora. Dora loved me and took good care of me for 3 years, but one day on my way home from school, a tall man wearing jeans and a black shirt stopped me and told me those three words. "Dora is dead." and then walked off as if he had not a care in the world. This pattern continued for 5 years, and when I was finally old enough to leave the orphanage, I went to college. I received a scholarship in high school because of my skill in computer programing. I chose that field because it wouldn't require showing my face as much as other fields. The reason I wear this small white mask is because my face has horrific scars from my first experience with an abusive family. They would throw drink glasses at me and blame me for all their problems. Often I would hide in my room for hours dressing my wounds and wishing for my stepparents screaming to stop. Toby was my only friend in college even though he was VERY obnoxious, and what a coincidence, we ended up being neighbors when I finally graduated.
I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand and looked over to the envelope. I picked it up and turned it over to see a golden colored wax seal designed to look like a large snake with no eyes. I raised one eyebrow and broke the seal. Little did I know how that small action would affect my near future.