Dionaea Muscipula (xfem!reader)

(Ch.36) Domus non est domus sine Amore.

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As Y/n drifted off to sleep, Everything fell into a deeper silence. Downstairs, in a dimly lit parlor behind the front desk, Norman sat in a high-backed chair, staring blankly at a television screen playing static. The flickering light cast eerie shadows across the room.

From somewhere in the house, a woman's voice, sharp and accusing, pierced the silence. "Norman! Who was that girl? What is she doing here?"

Norman flinched, his eyes darting nervously toward the source of the voice, nothing was there outside of his head. She nagged and nagged in the back of his head the way he once acted toward her. "Mother, she's just a guest like that Hanniger boy. She's tired and needs a place to rest for the night."

"Just a guest? A woman like that? You know what they are, Norman. Filthy, deceitful creatures wenches who know nothing if the world but must! What makes you think she's a woman of god!? That makeup! You need to get rid of her!"

Norman swallowed hard, his hands gripping the arms of his chair.  No, she's not a wench, if she wanted him she would have taken him already. "Mother, please. She's not like that. She's just... she's different. She's kind, she's just tired!"

The voice grew more insistent, more menacing, more annoyed as if gritting her teeth. "You always say that, Norman. But they always turn out to be the same. Get rid of her, or I will. Don't let her around that Hanniger boy, I won't have adultery under my roof!"

Norman's face contorted with inner turmoil. But why? Why is it always the women? Why is it always his fault? Why can't she just lay at rest instead of haunting and plaguing his mind? "Yes, Mother," He whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'll take care of it..."

He stood up slowly, his movements stiff and mechanical, and made his way to the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of her mother's words pressing down on him. As he approached Room 5, he paused outside the door, listening to the faint sound of Y/n's music seeping through the cracks, her headphones must have fallen off?

Norman raised his hand to knock but hesitated. He looked down the hallway, at himself in the mirror...he didn't want this...He didn't want to hurt her; he didn't want to be the person his mother was pushing him to be. Yet, the fear of his mother's wrath was overwhelming. He couldn't help as he remembered her mentioning the Hanniger boy, number 8. Did she really think they would do things?

Inside the room, Y/n stirred, her sleep disturbed by a growing sense of unease. She sat up, her heart pounding as she glanced around the dark room.

'Stupid dream demon' she thought as she touched her neck and wiped the saliva off.
";That lamb needs to be butchered... His breath bays, but he does not lay to rest, he is eternal, and not a lamb of God..." she whispered to herself, she says these things yet no quotes match. She looked around and drained her neck to the ceiling in thought before she froze. Something felt wrong, as if she was no longer alone, someone was watching, stalking, they meant her harm, but they were hesitant...

Suddenly, she heard the faint sound of whispering outside her door. She strained to listen, her pulse quickened in acknowledgement her ears were ever keen, ever open.
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