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Grinning Joanna Creepypasta: Difference between revisions
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I gasped. My lungs burned. A couple of times I tripped because constantly I turned frantically his head to see if they still pursued me<nowiki> </nowiki>still. I could hear her footsteps, sometimes behind me, sometimes farther away. Played it with me? It was like a cat-and-mouse game. I, the mouse, which fled through the cold and dark alleys of the town, in fear for my life and she, the cat who stretched their claws in the form of a butcher knife at me. Sometimes it looked as if I would depend on it<nowiki> </nowiki>and hope sprouted up in me, but then she suddenly reappeared right behind me on, always keeping an eye on me. I could not see it, but I knew she was grinning. As she had that sweet Joanna, just so you gone mad? No, that was a stupid question, because the signs had always been there. We had only not recognized, none of us. Her best friend is not, her family did not and I did not. It was more than obvious ... but have been
Joanna had never had an overly beautiful childhood. Her father had died before she was born in an accident and the time of their<nowiki> </nowiki>first years of life in which her mother had made her a spontaneous trip<nowiki> </nowiki>to the park, were long gone. After being tied up due to a muscle disease in bed, she began to become depressed or seizures. She gave her daughter to all the guilt and shouted at them permanently unless they apathetically staring out the window. Joanna's siblings moved out as soon as they were old enough and so she remained alone, more or less left to themselves. At school, as the strange silent girl who was talking to himself, known, she was soon ridiculed and bullied. In high school, then we met. I was older than her, but felt immediately attracted to her. Nevertheless, she was rarely at school - psychologist appointments and hospital visits they kept from getting to learn the school curriculum. I quickly realized that she was not really normal. To<nowiki> </nowiki>make it nice to say. She told me that someone had taken root in her head. It took me a while before I understood that she heard voices. A voice, to be exact. But Joanna never told me what it had with her close attention to, or what they said. It could not be good, because sometimes, often in the middle of a conversation, she suddenly stopped and began to scream. "Stop that! Shut up!" Then she wept often and
calmed down only by me or her former best friend Jessica. Two years
later these attacks subsided slowly. The treatments had struck, she
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[[Category:Deletion Log Refugees]]
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