Blood Red -Danny Johnson X Reader-

Chapter 23

The work day felt slow. Minutes felt like hours as I wrote about my experience. This felt so personal. No one should know about how I feel about this. Yet here I am, writing to survive.

The work day was finally over, and it was time to go home. I listened to the officers and Ghostface, going home right after work. I drove home to see a cop car right in front of my house.

The second I parked my car, the two officers in the police car looked my way. They stared at me with dark glares before recognizing me. Their guards went down when they saw I was the person they're supposed to protect.

I waved at the car as I went to my front door. Neither of the officers waved back. In fact, they didn't even smile. It was harsh, but they were just doing their jobs.

I unlocked the door and did the same thing I've been doing since the attack. I went around the house, making sure every door and window were locked shut. The room I was attacked in still made me shiver. I felt sick to the stomach every time I even saw the door to that room. The window is still broken, leaving me to lock the door from the wrong side. That could be how Ghostface is getting in. It's possible, but the door is still locked.

Once I did my check, I went to the kitchen. I still had a lot of shopping to do, so I didn't have a lot of food lying around. Only a few snacks. I'm shocked that I'm still alive here on my own. Not even because of the Ghostface, but because of my own lack of self care.

I stood in my kitchen, staring at the fridge that I knew was empty. I stood completely still as if I would scare away the food that didn't exist. In reality, I was just thinking. Thinking about what I could do about this situation.

I was instantly pulled out of my thoughts when a hand grabbed onto my shoulder. I let out a scream and turned around quickly in fear just to be met with the Ghostface mask.

"Calm down. You don't want the pigs out front to hear you, do you?" His calm voice spoke as if there was nothing wrong here.

"How did you get in?" I lowered my voice as if the cops could even hear me if I spoke normally.

"I have my ways. What were you doing?" His mask moved over my face to look at the fridge that I once was looking at myself.

"None of your business, why do you have to show up every night now?" I asked, slightly frustrated. I wasn't as scared of him as I was before, but I'm sure he could turn the tables in a second.

"I have to keep tabs on you, darling." He laughed, making me feel increasingly more uncomfortable with his presence. "You don't have anything to eat, do you?"

It fell quiet. I stared at him, unsure of what to say.

"Yes." I looked down shamefully, I didn't want to admit it to him that I hadn't gone to the store.

"I thought so." He said with an arrogant tone before turning away from me. "You really need to learn to take care of yourself, Y/N."

"Don't scold me like a child. I'm working on it." I stood still, watching him move. There was a duffle bag that did not belong to me against the wall. Did he really just bring that into my house?

"Working on it? You've lived here for days now." Ghostface grabbed a few things from the back and set them on the kitchen counter. He knew I didn't have food, so he brought some himself. I couldn't tell if that was sweet or creepy.

He instantly got to work, knowing where plates were and, more importantly, where the knives were in my house. I watched in shock as he prepared chicken and rice. It's an easy yet tasty meal.

"Why did you bring this?" I asked as I watched him.

"Humans need to eat. I'm human, and I don't have a working stove." He said, not even looking my way as he cooked the chicken. That could be another hint about who he is. The Ghostface has to live somewhere, right? Wherever he lives, he doesn't have a working stove and maybe more. That would explain the random act of niceness that a serial killer definitely doesn't do normally.

"Sit down." He ordered, bringing back more of that recognizable serial killer vibe. I did as he asked and sat down at the kitchen table, still watching him work. He made two plates full of food, setting one of them in front of me. He moved with his, going to leave the room.

"Wait..." I said, making him stop, "can I see your face?" It was a stupid question, I know. I might as well try, though.

"Not now." He said plainly after thinking. It took him so long to answer. Maybe he was at least considering showing me his face. That, or he was dumbfounded by the question.

Like a ghost, he left the room with his own plate of food. He went to the room he attacked me in. It's probably because he knows I hate going in there. That's a good place to get privacy from me.

It was quite good. The Ghostface didn't seem like a good chef, and yet here I was eating the food he made for me.

Is Ghostface just going to show up every night now? It seemed excessive to me. Why stick around someone you're threatening to kill? Ghostface brings up far too many questions.

~○~

A/N
Heyyy
I haven't had one of these in a while because I usually don't have a lot to say, but today, I wanna talk about an earlier chapter. I've gotten a few comments about why it would be suspicious that Randy paid in cash, and I just wanted to clear that up. Paying in a card can be tracked. Paying in cash can not be tracked. It's an easy way for detectives to find where someone was and when. That's all I have to say. Love you <3