Mrs. Christmas (YANDERE! Mrs. Claus x FEMALE! reader)

18.

November 27th

Y/N jumped at the sound of her alarm clock blaring. She quickly turned it off before checking the time. 6:34 AM. She rubbed her eyes, which burned from her lack of sleep.

Her back ached and her legs felt weak. The little amount of sleep she did get consisted of nightmares. Awful, graphic nightmares. Y/N forced herself to get up because she knew that she couldn't mope around all day. She had things to do and people to care for.

Y/N threw on a hoodie and a pair of jeans then looked in the mirror to make sure it looked decent. Y/N brushed her teeth and finished off her morning routine before walking into the kitchen.

"Anyone awake?" Y/N called. When she got no answer she sighed in relief. She really needed some alone time before work. Y/N made herself some coffee with her machine that she rarely used.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen and took a few sips from her mug. The silence of her home was comforting, but kept Y/N on-edge. The smallest of noises startled her. She found herself thinking. Again. It wasn't safe leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts.

JB wasn't related to her family, only by marriage and Y/N was sure he didn't like her. That didn't change how bad she felt, though. She wondered what his last thoughts were, if he thought about them...if he blamed them.

She didn't know Irene all that well. She had only seen her in person once in the two days they knew each other. But, her death still affected her. Knowing that Irene had tried to call her tore Y/N up. She wished she had answered that phone call instead of being asleep. Part of Y/N was blaming herself for it, even though she knew there was no way she could have saved her.

Ezekiel wasn't dead. Y/N knew that much. He couldn't be. She didn't know where he was or what had happened to him, but she knew that he was alive. She could feel it. Y/N wondered if the police were actually doing anything to find him. She was sure Andrew Polton wasn't. And, if he was, he was probably only looking for evidence that would make Y/N look guilty. Y/N didn't know why he hated her so much. She had never done anything to him.

Raven had always been there for Y/N. When she was little and had problems, she could always go to Aunt Raven and get a solution. Y/N was devastated at her death, she thought that she would survive. She was positive she would wake from the coma, but she had been wrong. Horribly wrong.

Y/N was pulled away from her thoughts at the sound of a shriek. It sounded like her cat, Pawsley. Y/N sat her cup down and rushed towards her bedroom in a panic. She entered her room and sent a confused glance towards Pawsley.

He was sitting comfortably on her bed, his front paws crossed, elegantly. He seemed fine. So, who had made the sound?

Y/N gently pet Pawsley's head, checking for any injuries, just in case. She found none, which confirmed that her cat was completely fine. Pawsley didn't shriek like that unless something was severely wrong and nothing was.

Y/N felt uneasy, she hugged herself as she walked back to the kitchen. Something wasn't right. She knew that deep down, but she tried her best to ignore it. Picking her mug up from the counter, she didn't realize the slight change of color. The small tint of red in her coffee that seemed to blend in with the already dark color.

She took a big gulp, nearly finishing it off. She needed to wake up. She was positive that she was hearing things, it was the only explanation. The trauma of her past few days, mixed with her lack of sleep, was causing her to hear things. That was it. It had to be.

She let out a shaky breath before taking the final sip of her drink and gently placing the glass mug in the sink. She rubbed her forehead and leant against the counter. She felt almost as if she were going to hyperventilate, but she gained control of her breathing quickly.