The Lifeless Beauty of Gracefield [ray x f! reader]

4 Words From Static

3rd pov

After [y/n] had made that deal, she saw no point in being there anymore.

At this point, she didn't care about anything anymore. It's not like her plan needed her to be alive.

She just needed at least tonight left to live.

Walking past the stairs, Ray looked down at her, all dark and gloomy. She gave him a soft look, waking by, and in return, he gave one back as well.

The sounds of her soft footsteps echoed slightly throughout the house. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed— maybe slighter than her boots on the old wood.

'You aren't going to go to Mama and tell her to ship you out! That you are going to make it out of here alive!'

Those words from Emma echoed in her head as she walked step by step.

Each time she had to raise her other foot to step again, it felt like time was going slow. And her feet were getting heavier. Nevertheless, she kept walking.

Finally, she had reached her destination; her shared bedroom. Daunting as it was, she opened the handle, went in, and closed it immediately.

She swiftly locked the door as she headed towards her bed. You'd expect her to just flop down on that thing and sleep, but surprisingly, she turned to her drawer instead.

Opening it up, she couldn't help but release a quivering breath, even with there being nothing in the drawer.

Or so she lead everyone to think.

Checking the door for the twenty-eighth time, she took a pencil and shoved it into the bottom part of the drawer.

The small floorboard to the drawer suddenly lifted up, and she took it out.

This is when the hesitation began.

She clenched her fists, attempting to stop how shakey they were. Her arms stiffed up, as if they didn't want to reach in the drawer either.

[y/n] shook her head multiple times, 'come on. do it. do it!'

Her muscles had finally allowed movement, so [y/n] reached into the hidden compartment to pull out...

a walkie-talkie

~~~

[y/n] watched from the second floor window, Norman walking to his death.

She turned on the walkie, already  having second thoughts. But she had to.

Turning it on, she could hear the voices; voices she didn't want to hear. In a situation she didn't want to be in. With a boy she didn't want to die. A plan she didn't want to use.

But it's not her right to be selfish.

She doesn't deserve to make those calls.

If she could get everything she wanted, maybe this whole f*cked up world could be fixed.

Maybe she didn't have to see her siblings die.

But it's all for them, it's all for them.

Let them live more than twelve bullsh*t years.

After what seamed like millions of years, only a few words was heard over the static feedback.

A few words that set [y/n]'s fate.

Ones that made her want to bang her head on the wall.

'send him to lambda.'