𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄, var!yandere

𝟎𝟔. 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

The loud thumping sound of your heart beats its way right through your ear drums. You were smart enough to be wary of some people you stumble upon but, evidently you weren't smart enough to keep your doors locked at night.

'Shitshitshit! Fuck!' You stared wildly towards the oak door, supporting your disabled leg with your left one, the sting keeps getting worse and worse as time goes by. And it didn't help that it was covered by a dirty cloth to stop the blood flow.

You loaded your gun as fast as a running cheetah and instinctively drew it to where your door is. Covering your bandage covered torso with your dirty shirt as to minimize the shame that was creeping up on you, a drop of sweat fell from your forehead as for what is about to come.

"Excuse me," A feminine voice says, "Mister? Are you asleep yet? I hope I'm not disturbing you, Mr. Francis told me to get you some medical supplies and tend to any wounds you ha-"

Pretty doe eyes stared at the gun you were holding in your hands. Shocked and taken aback, you looked at Matilda as if she grew two heads. And then, anger surges in. "What the hell do you think you're doing coming into my room uninvited?!" Angry stomps of feet stopped in front of the lady, furious eyes met shaken ones as you pushed the maiden out of the room.

The loud slam of a door echoed throughout the entire hallway. Matilda stood in the hallway like a lost child, embarrassment creeped to her cherub cheeks as she attempted to digest the image of you clutching your shirt to your torso. "I- I'm sorry! Mr. Francis only told me to tend to your wounds- I didn't mean to catch you in such a position, Mister-"

"Just get away from here! Tell Mr. Francis that I'm in good health and he should mind his own Goddamn business!" Your heart beat rapidly inside your ribcage, you were sure that you were about to puke the organ out of its confines.

You listened carefully for any movement from Matilda's end, you hoped that she would walk away and never speak of this event ever again. Unfortunately to your disappointment, you could still hear some shuffling from her end.

And it's not the type of shuffling of a person leaving any time soon.

"Please just let me help you! I-I saw that your torso was wrapped in bandages, and it looked like it needed some changing. H-Here!" Your ears picked up some more shuffling.

"I've got fresh bandages for you! If you don't change them now you might get infected."

Matilda halted in her words as the creaking sound of a door opening alerted her, she landed her eyes on your disheveled form, taking in your messy hair and bruised face; the buttoned up shirt that you covered yourself with was now worn with only two buttons unfinished near the neck, and the blood soaked pants that looked like it has seen better days.

Matilda's eyes diverted from yours quickly, something inside her crept up from her esophagus, she feels like she's about to puke. Jittery hands fumbled with the cotton bandages all while tired eyes rake the maiden from her doe eyes down to the hem of her dress. You scratched your neck from her odd behavior, "Are you going to give me the bandages or what?" You questioned.

"Yes!" She stutters, "H-here, it's the least I could do for ya, Mister. Do you need help putting them on?" Your head swiftly turned left and right at the suggestion, snatching the fresh bandages from her.

"Thanks, for- uh- this." (E/c) eyes swept away from the maiden's figure and landed randomly onto the wooden floors. Matilda nodded in content, a toothy smile gracing her face. "It's no problem at all, Mister. In fact, it's an honor that I'm able to help you at all."

"An honor, you say? Why's that?"

"Well... y'know, I've seen your posters all over town n'all. And some birdies told me you were infamous for stealin' banks and helpin' ladies in need." She curls a strand of her soft hair around her index finger. "So, of course it's an honor that I helped you, Mister...

     "You're a good man."

A bewildered expression rests on your visage. You don't know why, and you don't know how. But a feeling that you know all too well gnaws at your heart, hauntingly so.

You don't deserve this praise, you weren't a good man (woman to be precise). In fact, you were one of the most disgusting beings that crawled in this country.

You were a thief. You've stolen money and jewelry from all types of people across the West. Beating up people and deceiving them for some dough was a rotten thing one could do, but you had no other choice.

In this society, women like you can't choose who they want to be, or what they want to be. They either be housewives that tend to their husbands and stay by their side like some lifeless doll, or whores that get laughed at and shamed by society.

Kind of unfair, ain't it?

Uncomfortably, you scratched your nape and averted your sight from the maiden in front of you. An imposter such as yourself isn't meant to be praised, especially to be gushed at by a lady like Matilda. The silence between you two was almost deafening, sounds of wood creaking and wind hitting the glass windows were the only thing accompanying the two.

"I see... um, well thank you, Matilda." Offering a weak smile to the woman, you promptly closed the door on her face. Leaving the doe eyed woman all by her lonesome, again.