Dealing with the Devil [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 54 - Gift

The car finally rolled to a stop, and I blinked as I took in my surroundings. We were in a neighborhood. Not the sprawling mansion I had feared, or the remote cabin in the woods I had dreaded, but a regular suburban neighborhood. Rows of houses lined the quiet street, their windows glowing softly in the evening light.

"Huh, a neighborhood," I said aloud, more to myself than to Chris.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, turning off the engine and looking at me with a knowing smile.

"Uh, yeah. I really didn't expect this to be... well, a neighborhood," I admitted, still trying to wrap my head around it.

"Don't worry. My family owns it," he said casually, as if that explained everything.

"Owns it?" I echoed, frowning. "You mean the house?"

"The whole neighborhood," he clarified, his tone nonchalant.

"Hmm... I don't doubt that," I muttered, glancing around at the uniform houses. Each looked well-maintained, eerily similar to the next. There was a surreal quality to it all, like stepping into a perfectly curated model town.

Chris got out and started unloading the car. I followed suit, grabbing a couple of bags and trailing behind him. He led me up to one of the houses, a charming two-story with a wide porch and welcoming lights.

It looked like something out of a postcard.

As we stepped inside, I was hit with a wave of warmth and the comforting smell of wood and something faintly sweet. The interior was cozy and inviting, a stark contrast to the growing unease in my chest. Chris showed me around, his enthusiasm infectious despite my lingering doubts.

The living room was spacious, with plush couches and a large fireplace that crackled with a welcoming fire.

"Make yourself at home," he said, leading me further in. "This is the kitchen."

I marveled at the gleaming appliances and the well-stocked pantry. "Wow, how long have you been preparing for this?" I asked, noticing the abundance of supplies.

"Oh, a while. The winter storm's going to be pretty intense," he replied, nonchalantly opening the fridge and showing me rows of neatly arranged food.

"How long is the winter storm going to last?" I asked, a hint of worry creeping into my voice.

"A few months," he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry, what?" I stared at him, trying to process his words.

"A few months," he repeated, his eyes meeting mine with an unsettling calm.

"A few as in... two, right?" I pressed, hoping I had misheard.

"Sure," he said with a slight shrug, not quite meeting my eyes.

And then it clicked. The day in the library flashed through my mind. Chris had sat with me, engrossed in thought, mentioning a gift he was considering taking home.

Me.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks: he had been planning this all along.

I was the gift.

"Let's get something to drink and get comfortable," he said, his voice breaking through my spiraling thoughts.

"Whatever," I muttered, knowing deep down that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Something told me this was the least of my troubles. I followed him into the living room, my mind racing with questions and fears.

I sank into the couch, its softness a small comfort in the midst of my growing anxiety. The warmth from the fireplace seeped into me, and I tried to focus on that, to ground myself in something tangible. Through the large glass doors leading to the backyard, I watched the wind pick up, swirling the first flakes of snow into a frenzy.