Watching You | Ghostface x Fem Reader

Hush

"Hey."

I was awake. Unfortunately the whole scenario before wasn't some traumatic dream, I figured out, as I looked up to the source of the voice. The mask.

I looked to my surroundings, expecting some run down apartment with a mold problem or a creepy old warehouse. But was fairly surprised to see my cozy bedroom. But the situation I was in made it a place of fear and loathing. As my thoughts began to un-cloud I looked up at the Ghostface, wondering why he hadn't slit my throat already. It was like he read my mind as he sat in my desk chair, fiddling with his dagger. "Don't say it, or I might change my mind. Now, all I want from you is shelter."

My voice was scratchy and my throat felt as if it was lined with sandpaper as I croaked out. "Shelter?" The man had noticed how dry it was and passed me a conveniently placed glass of water from my desk. I hadn't left a drink up here so he must've made one himself. I sipped the strangely cool water, it was like it was freshly poured. "Yes. Since I didn't feel like killing you, I might aswell reside here for the time being." I was relieved when he said 'for the time being'. And was that a colder way to hide how he actually couldn't bring himself to kill me? Who knew the infamous Ghostface had a heart, if not cold? Definitely not me.

I slowly nodded, deciding to go along with it as he was being polite. Polite as he could get when my hands were tied behind my back. I was actually quite happy that he'd put me on my comfy beanbag. "Could you untie me? Feel free to carry the knife if it makes you feel any better." I negotiated, and he gave a gesture that said 'why not?' "Sit up then." He shockingly placed the knife down on my desk, showing he meant no threat. I'd feel safer if he wasn't so tall. I did as told and straightened up. He walked behind me and, with ease, untied my wrists, folding the rope and tossing it, too, onto the desk.

I moved my hands around with a small smile, giving a silent thanks as he took the seat in my chair again.

"Oh, shit. I forgot." His eyes moved up from mine to my forehead and up a tad bit more.

"What? What is it?" I slightly panicked.

"You fell when I knocked you out, you hit your head, there's a gash somewhere. I'll turn the lights on since it's hard to look for it in the dark." He explained casually and walked to my doorway, flicking the lightswitch on. The room illuminated and I cringed as a slight headache came on. "I'm sorry, honey, rest your head on your knees or something, I'm gonna get a wet rag to clean you up." Was that a bit of empathy in his soulless, artificial voice? No way.

"Bathroom's down the hall to the left!" I yelled out after sipping some more water.

His response shook me. Though it was a simple "I know", the whole reason why he knew sent shivers down my spine. How long had he been watching me? Oh well. That's irrelevant right now.

I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my head on them.

No longer than 5 minutes passed and he was back, I could hear a container with some things in it be set down on my desk (sounded like pills, probably was paracetamol or ibuprofen) but I couldn't tell since I had my head down. "Honey, after I clean this up, I'm gonna leave you to change clothes because they're all bloody." He informed me, dabbing away at the wound at the top of my head. It weirded me out how informal he was being about this but then I remembered how he knew he had the upper hand, if I tried something, well. He's a trained? serial killer, he knows how to win a scuffle with a decently sized person. I got anxious thinking through this and made mental notes to go by his rules for as long as he's a threat to me, which is going to be for as long as he chooses to stick around... or keep me alive. Despite his caring actions, I couldn't pass off the fact that he killed innocent people. I didn't trust him one bit.

"There, all cleaned up. Now, how's your head? Like do you have a headache?" He threw the dirty rag onto my desk. "Yeah actually." He stepped to the desk and passed me some paracetamol, 500mg tablets. I popped open the lid, seeing the actual tablets and not some bootleg ones the killer had made that were made of cyanide or something lethal. I kind of wished he had replaced them but, without thought, I swallowed two down with the rest of the water. "Thirsty huh?" He chuckled. It wasn't dark like his other laughs, it was genuine. I could tell even through the voice changer.

"So, how long have you had your eye on me?" I asked, the question itself making me feel uncomfortable. "I'll tell you after, change out of those clothes." He walked to the door. "Ok." After he left, I moved on unstable legs to my full length mirror. "Jeez..." I cringed, dried blood had trickled down from my head, down my face and onto my clothes. "You didn't tell me I looked this bad." I spoke so he could hear. I mean, this can't be that bad compared to the things he does to people. "I don't just need to change, I need a shower." I joked, confused by myself as I was making fun out of such a situation. "Well go ahead, I'll wait downstairs."

His footsteps faded down the hall and to the stairs, him going down. I don't understand how I didn't hear him before but I guess he didn't need to stay quiet now. I grabbed clean pyjamas and threw the bloodied ones over to the washing basket. I covered myself quickly with a towel and rushed out into the bathroom with my clothes and towels. I closed and locked the door just for safety and if the serial killer inside my home decided to actually do his job.

"Don't have the water too hot! It'll hurt your cut, just rinse your hair without any shampoo!"

His voice came from downstairs, it sounded different, maybe he had taken off his mask. "Thanks!" I thanked him for his quick tip and switched the water on. I had it on 4 so it was just about lukewarm. I took a quick glance over to the mirror as I unwrapped myself from my towel and jumped in the shower.