𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕞𝕖 𝕌𝕡 (Atsushi x M!Reader)

Chapter #1

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It follows me at night.

When the streets are empty and lamps hanging from their posts only illuminate a dim wary light. The wind brushes past me, cold breeze and eerie silence save for the sound of my footsteps. It always happens on the silent nights, the lonely nights, the forsaken nights.

I know when it's coming, my footsteps then joined with the loud sound of ragged gasps. I hear not for it's feet making contact for the ground, the gravelled pavement only making room for me to make noise. It's breathless struggles for air come closer, as if it wants me to know how it's struggling.

But I can feel it.

Breath on my neck, a liquid dripping down from its face. I could only hope for it to be drool, not for the red blotchy liquid that ran through my veins. Its cold presence makes me want to freeze up, hands shaking and goosebumps crawling against my spine. But I know better.

It's slow on most quiet nights, trying to keep me unaware of how close it is. Creeping towards me, almost knowing that I can't run or hide from it. As long as I can hear it's wheezing, it knows it's got a iron clad grip on me.

Sometimes however, on the very special nights, it doesn't creep towards me.

It runs.

If it weren't for the shrill scream and poundings on the brick and wooden walls, I wouldn't know it's coming. Almost as if various people were banging their hands against the walls, animalistically until their fists were red and splinters digging into their skin. But I recognize the scream, coming from the same figure that's wheezing and shaking. It's piercing, and it doesn't stop there, continuing in a wail as it gets closer. This is something I can hear approaching at a fast rate. The scream starts distant, but if I don't start running, it'll be clawing at my back in the next few seconds give or take.

It hates when I run.

But I know the procedure, anxiety and adrenaline pulsing through me with every thrum of my heart. I can escape it, I can run and hide as long as I try enough, just until a point where I don't want to anymore.

Sometimes I want to give in, stay there silently and let the ghastly figure claw at my back. Hear it's screams or ushered breaths approach, feel it's slender fingers against my shoulder. Breath against my neck, ragged and staggered, it was suffering. Whatever it was, desperate touches, clawing at my back as if searching for an escape, for some peace of mind.

God knows how much I needed some peace of mind.

It's touches were harsh, but nonetheless it's the most physical contact I've had in the past few years, even if the creature wasn't humane.

At first glance it does seems normal, a small figure walking down the street. I've peered at it before, the sound of gurgles and gasps shortly coming after. Head down, it almost looked like a girl, long hair drifting down to her waist and covering her face. Limbs dislocated and cracking with every movement, it seemed so frail and fragile.

Until it looks up.

Then you can see it's face.

It's stitched up, the mouth, the eyes, even the ears that aren't even there. As if all face features were torn off and sealed to avoid blood loss. It's nose was squished into the face, leaving absolutely no remark to a normal human girl. I don't know how it breaths, I don't know where the ragged gasps and shuddered wheezing comes out of. How it intensifies, how I can feel it on my neck. I don't know how it screams, it's mouth stitches up and forever closed.

I don't know what it is.

The way it runs is one even abnormal to a horror movie, it isn't fast, it's terrifying. Joints moving to a different place with every movement, it's kneecap sliding up the quad and ribs poking out where the breasts should be. It runs like a drunk madman, side to side, nearly tipping over. But then it's screaming, and I can no longer stare at it for much longer, the thought of it even reaching too close scares me to death.

So I run.

Somehow when I turn away it seems to run faster, because sometimes I can sense it just right behind me. It scream will become louder, and the crawling of the bones and limbs moving from one end of the body to the other making itself apparent. I never glance back at those times, I'm almost sure that if I do, I won't be able to face the other way again.

However it's not impossible to avoid, it hates large groups or light. That's how I survive on daily, I have to stay near large crowds and friend groups. Sleeping with the light on and emergency lamps and battery charged lights in case the electricity cuts off. I don't want to die in my sleep.

It's been in my house before.

One of the first times I saw it, standing in the doorway of my room and peering down at me. It was dark, but somehow it's skin almost shined in the moonlight, making the forlorn face easily visible.

I didn't sleep after that.

Not for a while anyway, but I became quickly accustomed to the precautions. Never go anywhere in the dark, don't sleep for more than five hours, always be beside someone outside. Even when with other people in the dark walking, it's always there, just too scared to approach. On those days it wails, soft little cries echoing through the dark alleyways it's hidden in. Sometimes it's teeth will chatter, or at least I suppose that's what it is, although it's stitched mouth doesn't really leave much options.

However not all rules can always be followed.

There's no one to walk home with when I come back from school or late night shifts at work. There's no one to come back to nor anyone who cares enough to walk me home. From the subway to my neighbourhood, it's that one section that trips me up. Dark and lonely, the streetlights are too dim to keep the figure away.

I have scars on my back.

But there's nothing to stop it, accustoming myself to a lifestyle with such a thing. It can't follow me around in the day, but it casts almost a dark aura around me, shying everyone away. I don't attempt to make connections or friends, scared that they'll see it too.

I don't want to burden anyone else with it.

So I live my life in fear, constant paranoia that one day there won't be any light to protect me. That everyone will leave me and I'll be alone with the figure, that there will be nowhere to run. That the scratching against my back won't stop, digging into my bones and shredding every piece of me.

I wonder, will it rip out my eyes?

Will it cut off my ears?

Will I have to get stitches too?

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