BROKEN WINGS (m. yanderes x reader)

XIV- speaking up

A pained grunt escaped (Y/n) as she gazed at the needle pricking into her finger, a drop of blood welled from the skin. She brought her finger to her lips with a frustrated sigh, sucking on the small wound to stop the bleeding.

She gazed down at her pointe shoes that still needed for her to sew the ribbons on, a tired pout on her lips.

It was this bad, wasn't it?

(Y/n) let herself fall back on the covers of her bed, holding her pointe shoes close to her chest for comfort.

She had been so out of it lately. The main cause being her brain messing with her by convincing her that she could run into Simon any time, when she knew for a fact that there was no chance of this happening considering he was in another city. Of course she knew this was her mind's way of protecting her, still she couldn't say being on survival mode all the time was working out well for her.

She had also lost countless hours of sleep due to recurring nightmares of Simon, and the bags under her eyes were growing darker and darker by the days. Hell, Stella had looked genuinely scared this morning when (Y/n) had stepped into the kitchen to get her daily dose of caffeine.

But more than that, due to both her fucked up brain and her sleep deprivation, (Y/n) had been irritable, short tempered and even more paranoiac than usual.

And although she tried to convince herself that she was fine and that this would pass, she couldn't ignore the toll her last outing with Stella had taken on her mental health.

Her mother was also growing suspicious, and (Y/n) didn't know how much longer she'd be able to keep the truth from her in spite of her best attempts at concealing her obvious mental and physical exhaustion.

The thought of her mother worrying over her had (Y/n)'s heart twisting uncomfortably in her chest. As she knew that if her mother learned of her current mental state, she'd lose no time in getting to her to try and take care of her.

(Y/n) didn't want that.

She wanted to prove to herself that she could do this, alone. That she could take care of herself and handle her mind alone. This was easier said than done though, as in spite of her best attempts at reassuring herself there were still things she couldn't really control.

Like her zoning out at random, like the flashbacks that came to assault her every once in a while during her day, like the gripping fear of turning a corner and meeting Simon there.

(Y/n) reached out for the book on her nightstand, running through the pages to try and distract herself. She didn't want to think about this anymore. She wanted to unwind and for her mind to be quiet for once.

For her head to feel like hers once again. Something she only seemed to achieve when she kept herself busy.

She couldn't be this lucky though.

A piece of paper that had been stuck between the pages fell from the book. (Y/n) picked it up and inspected it, it was small with a phone number scribbled on it in an almost hieroglyphic writing.

She must have put it there at some point and forgotten about it. She did have this habit of sticking random pieces of paper and notes everywhere.

She didn't know why she would have stuck her psychiatrist's phone number anywhere when she had it on her phone on speed dial though.

Still, If a higher being existed, this was clearly its shot at trying to drag her back to therapy.

(Y/n) didn't have time to ponder over the possibility though, her thoughts interrupted by someone shyly knocking on her door.