|Blood Lovers| Billy Loomis×Reader×Stu Macher

Chapter 14

Its the week of the execution, and you seem to have become more calm than ever. Whenever you were running, running away from police and the law and everyone, you never had peaceful moments. Now, you could sit for hours and think about life. Of course, life would shortly end for you. But maybe this was best. You were a monster, and society didn't like monsters. They wanted anyone and anything that could hurt them gone. And you were one of the biggest threats, you and your boys.

Everyone seemed to be scared. You weren't that bad on the inside. When people got to know you, they seemed to like you. That was, of course, before you became a killer. But it was ok. You were going to be OK.

"Whatcha thinkin about?" Stus voice pulls you back to reality.

"The ususal. Life, death, murder. All the fun stuff." Stu laughs at your sarcastic remark. Humor wasn't something that was just tossed around a lot. This prisons humor was dry. Almost as dry as the ham they served on Wednesdays.

Billy walks over then, wondering what we are laughing at.

"Oh Y/n was just being funny." Stu says.

Billy smiles,

"I love it when you're funny, Y/n. No one ever is."

You smile sadly at this. At 23 you've landed right in jail and in just a few days, you're gonna be zapped in front of a room of people, because of a mistake you made.

When they interrogated you, they asked if you regretted what you'd done. You said yes, but really, it was a no. Of course it was. This was how you'd met your boys. How could you possibly regret?

Billy leaves to go to the library, and you and Stu are left alone. Stu turns to you.

"Y/n, I have something to confess."

You chuckle. "Don't we all?"

Stu smiles but his face hardens suddenly. "I read your diary, back at the cabin. Only some of it. But I know what your dad did to you. I'm so sorry."

You frown. You'd almost been able to forget. About him. You hadn't talked to anyone about your trauma, not since the night it happened. Your mom was to much of a drunk after that, and couldn't afford therapy. And the only people who ever cared to check up on you were the police.

You used to love how they would come over, and when they would ask you questions, it would relieve you to get it off your chest. But now, you only had your boys. And it was time to open up.

"Yes. I can see how that would concern you."

You look at him absently, you yourself were there but your mind was at that house, that night, in that cold room you could never ever escape.

He looks at you with concern in his eyes. "Would you like to talk about it?"

You nod your head, and tell him the story that's been eating at your body for years, and years, and  years.