The Parasite [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 40 - (The Breaking Point)

A few days passed, and I kept to myself, ignoring Damian as much as I could. The air between us grew thick with tension, like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment.

He hadn't lashed out yet, but I could feel it simmering beneath the surface, his patience wearing thin with every word I didn't speak and every bite I refused to take.

We sat across from each other at the dining table. I stared down at my plate, pushing the food around with my fork, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. Eventually, I took a bite, if only to keep the peace, but the food tasted like ash in my mouth.

Damian broke the silence first, his voice low, almost reflective.

"Your parents weren't good people."

I flinched, gripping the fork tighter.

Of course they weren't.

I'd known that for years. But it still stung to hear him say it, especially now.

"I know," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. "But they didn't deserve that."

He scoffed, setting his fork down with more force than necessary.

"They kicked you out over a simple lie that was easily disproved and left you on the streets alone. Did you really think they would've cared if you died? Or better yet, cared if you were homeless, begging for change?"

His words were like daggers, cutting deep into the rawest parts of me.

Ouch.

I stared at my plate, stunned into silence, the reality of his words settling over me like a heavy blanket.

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands, clearly aggravated.

"I'm just... I'm just tired of seeing you sad over people who didn't care about you." His voice wavered slightly, and for a brief moment, there was something human in his tone. "I was there, you know?"

I glanced up at him, confused.

"What do you mean, you were there?"

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant, lost in a memory.

"I was there, watching everything unfold. When you left that day, your little friend felt guilty and came clean." His voice turned bitter, dripping with disdain. "And your parents just laughed. Said it wasn't important anyway. Like you didn't matter."

I blinked, trying to process what he was saying.

He was watching?

Even then?

The thought made my skin crawl, but more than that, it left a hollow ache in my chest. It was one thing to know my parents didn't care about me, but to hear it confirmed like this, from someone like Damian—it shattered something inside me.

Had they really just laughed?

Had my pain meant that little to them? 

My whole life, I had felt like I was walking on a tightrope with them, trying so hard to make them care, to make them see me. And yet, when the truth had finally come out, they hadn't even bothered to apologize.

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I could feel Damian watching me, waiting for something—maybe a reaction, maybe some kind of understanding—but I had nothing left to give. All the fight in me had drained away, leaving only a numbness that I didn't know how to escape.

Damian sighed again, softer this time, as if he was deflating.

"I just... I want you to see that you're better off without them. They didn't deserve you."

Better off without them?

The words echoed in my mind, but they felt wrong. Yes, my parents were terrible people. Yes, they had hurt me in ways I was still trying to understand. But that didn't mean they deserved to die. That didn't mean I was better off in this twisted version of life with Damian.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotions rising in my throat.

"You can't just decide who lives and who dies, Damian," I said quietly, my voice shaking. "That's not love. That's control."

He looked at me then, something dark and unreadable in his eyes.

"I did what I had to do to protect you," he said firmly. "They were the ones who threw you away. I'm the one who kept you safe."

Safe.

That word again. He used it like a shield, as if everything he had done could be justified by his warped sense of protection. 

But the more he spoke, the more I realized that Damian didn't understand what safety truly meant. He didn't see the cage he had built around me, the way he had stripped away every piece of my freedom until I was nothing more than his possession.

"Damian," I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. "This isn't protection. This isn't love. You took away my choices. You've made me your prisoner."

He frowned, leaning forward in his chair, his gaze intense.

"No. No, you're wrong." He seemed desperate now, his voice rising with a manic edge. "I've given you everything. I've sacrificed for you, waited for you. Can't you see that? Can't you see how much I love you?"

I stared at him, my heart racing in my chest.

Love?

This wasn't love. 

It was obsession. 

It was control.

It was manipulation wrapped up in the guise of affection. And yet, in that moment, I felt a flicker of pity for him—because somewhere in his broken mind, he truly believed this was love. He truly believed he was saving me.

But I couldn't be saved by someone who saw me as a prize to be won.

I looked away, tears stinging my eyes.

"I don't need you to protect me," I said softly. "I need you to let me go."

For a long moment, there was only silence. I could feel the weight of his gaze, could feel the tension building in the room like a storm ready to break. Then, without a word, Damian stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He walked out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

I sat there, staring at the untouched food on my plate, feeling more trapped than ever. Damian's breaking point was nearing, and I didn't know what would happen when he finally snapped.

But one thing was clear—I had to find a way out before it was too late.