The Demons Within (Female Yandere x Male Reader)

C14 - Freedom

From the moment I had been born, a heavy expectation for my future had already been set in stone.

My mother and father were world-renowned classical artists, and as their first and only child, I was expected to follow in their footsteps.

Lenient as they were, pursuing classical art was something I had no choice in deciding. It was already decided for me.

At first, art was my favourite pastime, something I could spend hours upon hours dabbling in. But as time passed and my skills reached a certain level, it became clear that other forms of art were more enjoyable than the classical art style I had been forced into.

Several times had I pleaded to my parents, asking to focus on other forms of art, only to get turned down time upon time.

I was but an investment to them.

I was their "legacy.".

Their retirement plan. A way to keep all of the high-class friends that they had gained from their prestige.

After all, this world is all about giving and taking. If no new classical art pieces were produced, then they would be deprived of the fame they so painstakingly built.

Eventually I decided to develop my other skills without my parents' permission, a frightfully challenging task which I had thoroughly enjoyed endeavouring in.

However, my collection of pieces would always be found and inevitably destroyed by my parents, who bore furious expressions upon their brows.

Saying that I was "wasting my time" and, more importantly, "focussing my talent onto other areas" instead of putting "all my effort into surpassing them.".

And so I did. Obtaining international renown by the age of ten seemed as though it would be a matter of time better; I at least achieved notoriety equal to that of my parents.

But then I discovered a fascinating form of art. One that matched the feelings that I had been bottling up for so, so long.

Graffiti.

A simple yet complex art style that seemingly had no boundaries, no restrictions, and, if good enough, would be left upon the walls that they had marked.

The only problem was that... Well, graffiti was quite the noticeable artform. If I attempted to put any effort towards that form of art, then I'd need to practice somewhere else.

Sneaking out of my house from a young age to practice my graffiti skills was easier said than done. With the large premise chock-full of attendants and guests, successfully escaping without being seen was usually impossible.

However, the few times that I had been able to leave unattended were some of the nights I cherished the most.

Bouts of happiness surging within me when I had seen that my previously created pieces of artwork had yet to be washed away, mixed with disappointment when they had, both emotions fuelling me to improve my skills.

Unfortunately, this came at a cost.

My classical art skills had not greatly improved over the period of a year, prompting my parents to suspect I hadn't been diligently practicing, resulting in them assigning a full-time attendant to my side, ensuring I'd always have eyes on me.

No longer was I able to sneak out of the house; only on short trips out were I able to see my seemingly impervious pieces of artwork, of which up until now only a few had survived.