Kaira was 25 when she died. It had come suddenly and in the form of a friend. She died so quickly she didn't even get to utter her last words, simply passing on with blood dribbling down her chin. In her mind she wept, crying out in agony for the sh...
TW!! Blood, Yandere, Panic, chase scene, depictions of knives, mentions of abuse, psychological abuse, complete psycho alert, slight sexual assault, cannibalism, mild cursing
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I couldn't stop running, not right now. If I did, I would meet my end, and I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready, I wasn't ready, I wasn'treadyIwasn'treadyIwasn'treadyIwasn'tready I WASN'T READY!!
Just as I was about to turn a bend and book it down the next alley, a force pulled me back by my hair. I screamed, getting cut off by a rough hand clapping over my lips. My hands shot up to pull the hand away, struggling with my entire being to get out of the deadly hold. My attempts were futile though, as the person holding me only snaked their other arm around me, squeezing me until I felt like my eyes would pop out and my lungs would burst. I'm pretty sure that last one was because of my panicked breathing though.
"Where are you going?" A masculine voice whispered in my ear, whining as I struggled. His voice made me want to gag and scream at the same time, its false childish nature making me sick, "Don't you want to play with me?"
I ignored him, instead opting to try to pry his hand off my face. My nails dug into his flesh as I clawed at him. My feet jerked around, trying in vain to hit a weak spot so he would let me go, but my body ached from how tightly he was holding me, leaving me at his mercy. His hand tightened around my jaw as tears pricked at my eyes. No matter how hard I tried he just wouldn't let me go.
"Why won't you answer? Are you mad at me...?" He whined once more, resting his head on my shoulder, making eye contact with me. His eyes were a heavy blue, looking me up and down like a predator sizing up its prey. It made me gag internally, "I'm sorry if I scared you, I just don't like it when other people play with my toys. It's just like if something that belongs to you is stolen and you do anything to get it back and keep it near you, never letting anyone else play with it. Never ever ever ever."
His voice got higher and higher as he spoke, almost singing when he was done. It was like he had no idea what he was doing to me, doing to my mind and body at the same time. But I know that's a lie. He knows exactly what he's doing. I spent too much time stuck with him to not realize what he was doing.
He knew his words affected me. They scared me to bits, and he knew. He knew because, just like how I was trapped with him, he was stuck with me, for years. Years, filled with agony, manipulation and abuse. Years spent trying to find a way out and never finding any. Years watching my family as they ate and drank while he sat among them, unable to say anything.
I couldn't say anything at any given point. Not even a hint of what was going on in our home. I knew he was always watching, always listening. I knew that, even if I did say something, my family wouldn't believe me over him. They wouldn't believe their daughter, who had struggled with mental disorders since she was young, was suffering from abuse. My sister would have called me a liar, since she knew him before we met.
