[18+ Yandere Meowscarada x Reader] I'll Make Them All Disappear!

55 | "That is the Question"

Lacey's body goes cold. Entirely chilled, like her blood has lost all warmth and has been drowned out by rivers of ice and slush colder than the wintry horizon. Her heels sink into the snow at her feet, swallowing her flesh whole as if attempting to drag her down into a hell devoid of eternal burning.

She blinks her teary eyes at the feline standing mere inches from her face. Meowscarada, the Prodigy's partner, a Pokémon capable of single-handedly sweeping teams of six and, now, apparently fields of Pokémon families without breaking a sweat. The Pokémon Lacey believed to be her idol. Her grand point of reference for what strength really means. Alongside the trainer of course, the boy whom she fell in love with the moment she saw him in the flesh.

She was going to share lunch and dinner with him. She was going to chat with him about sweet nothings, losing track of time and breaking into laughter over stories she accrued as an Elite Four member. She was planning on asking for his phone number or his socials in an attempt to stay in touch, always and forever, never drift away from that boy and his handsome face and admirable battle prowess and ridiculous feats. There was just something so incredibly stunning about the idea of sharing so much time with someone like him — better yet, something so stunning about having him in the very same academy halls.

Lacey shivers, gently raising her hand to clutch Meowscarada's arm. Looking down, she sets her eyes upon what look to be flecks of blood. Blinking the ocean of salty tears from her eyes, she again settles her flickering gaze on the wound. There, those aren't just small flecks of her own blood. It's a steadily oozing gash. Crimson snakes out of a sharp stab wound, perfectly penetrating a gap in her ribcage, carving through to breach her thumping heart. Now, it no longer beats. It has gone as cold as the snow around her feet.

Lacey tries to think back on what she'll be missing when she's gone. Because there's simply no surviving this — she's not stupid. As her breath is siphoned from her body, as is her life, the young girl with pearly pink hair tries hard to fill her head with the faces of those she loves.

Or maybe her mind does that on its own. After all, most believe death does not reach you until after you've had life flash before your eyes. That your taste of demise waits patiently for your memories to come flooding back until you are wallowing in nostalgia, the fleeting keepsakes that which have been buried in the thick of the mind, waiting to be fished out again before the feeble lifeline is split in two.

Blood spills over Meowscarada's paw. Breaths come out in the form of frosted clouds. Icy breezes continue whistling against the human girl's ears, but she hardly feels the cold anymore.

Meowscarada blinks, then flips the jagged crystal stake. Lacey opens her mouth to scream as a scalding pain seizes her innards, but no noise escapes her. The crystal toys with the fleshy strands within her heart, grinding on globs of muscle and tissue. Meowscarada turns the stake over again like she's fiddling with a door key.

All the while, her face is calm.

Lacey's is riddled in misery.

Meowscarada jerks the crystal stake from the girl's body and watches her fall to her back. Cushioned by lumps of snow, Lacey's woolen jacket sinks into the ground. Water seeps into her clothing, faintly dampening her outfit long enough for what remains of her to feel the chill of ice and snow.

She brings a hand to her chest to feel around, to feel if that wound is really there. No matter what pain bleeds into her body, she can't accept it. She can't fathom the plausibility of murder. Murder by a Pokémon dressed only in bloodlust — and to think she herself had become one of the creature's targets. Just like that. No rhyme, no reason, at least she thinks there was no reason for this.