Deep Like Water (Yandere!BEN Drowned X GN!Reader)

Eat The Matches, Swallow The Rust

There was a skip in your step as you hopped down the stairs behind the stage, leaving behind the broken and bloody remains of the mannequins. Adrenaline was still coursing through your cells, leaving you on some strange sort of high. It was a different kind of rush than the one felt when winning a video game or going on a rollercoaster. It felt...rawer. Older. Like it had been in your roots since the beginning of time.

Even though your weapon was gone, you still felt confident enough in your abilities to take down the last remaining mannequin. You had your fists and feet, and if things went badly, then you'd use whatever was closest. If you had to, then you'd use the wall. If it was solid, it was a weapon.

In the distance, you could hear your mannequin's footsteps echoing through the labyrinthine corridors. They weren't in time with yours like you expected its footsteps to be, so you moved a little faster in the hopes of catching up with it.

Were you supposed to commit mannequin-murder? Probably not. Did you want to commit mannequin-murder? Kinda, yeah! If that mannequin was a representation of your past or a part of your present, you wanted it gone. Who knows—maybe it would trigger some cool character growth. Plus, it might release you back into the real world.

If you kept walking and distracting yourself, then maybe you would be able to forget the jar of apples. You knew that ignoring it forever wasn't going to help, but neither was thinking about it all the time.

And yet...Mik's words were stuck in your head, playing on loop with no option to pause. Had BEN really taken your dreams and stored them in a jar? It didn't make sense. There was nothing to gain by doing that because, depending on when the dreams were from and what they contained, you probably would have told him about them anyway. BEN wasn't dumb, and he certainly wasn't dumb enough to kill your closest friend just to get your attention. He was smarter than that. He had to be, because if he was, then he should have known that trying to isolate you would make you angry and depressed.

Even though you didn't want to think about it, if BEN had killed James, then no amount of sweet words would be enough to make you come crawling back. You were stubborn, opinionated, and willing to cut off your own emotions if it meant preserving your sanity.

Once again, your thinking time was cut short when something made a loud noise behind you, making you freeze and whirl around. Staring down the corridor at a creature you had never seen before, your breath was taken away as you began to back up, whispering, 'Shit,' over and over again.

What you saw was....difficult to explain. It was the mannequins you had just destroyed; there was no doubt about that, but something was wrong. Maybe it was because they had been fused together and consumed by the strange substance that had leaked out of their crumpled-up heads.

There were at least eight limbs protruding from its distorted body. Maybe more. You couldn't really tell. The cephalothorax was made out of your father's mannequin, and his head sat proudly atop his shoulders, fused together by tar. Your mother's head had been crudely attached upside-down to your father's chest, so it was staring at you with unblinking, manic eyes that made your skin feel like it was made out of worms.

The beast's other features weren't identifiable, but then again, you didn't look at it long enough to wonder which leg belonged to Frankie. Once your brain registered what it was seeing, your first thought was, 'Absolutely fucking not.' And then you ran. Again. For your life.

The sound of your footsteps and ragged breath were disguised by the clattering of the monster behind you as it scuttled through the hallway. From the way the corridor shook, it was likely that it was crawling along the walls and ceiling in a bid to try and reach you.