The Parasite [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 41 - (The Phone)

The next morning was suffocatingly quiet. Damian didn't speak a word as he ushered me outside, placing me in a chair on the back patio as if this were just another ordinary day. He handed me a glass of iced tea, the condensation dripping down the sides and pooling on my hands, and then he went to tend to the lawn.

It was such a strange scene—so surreal it almost made me laugh. He was out there, humming to himself as he pushed the lawnmower, cutting the grass like he was a normal man with a normal life. Like we were living in some kind of suburban dream instead of a nightmare made of secrets and blood.

I sat there, clutching the glass in my hand, feeling the cold seep into my skin but never quite reaching my bones. I couldn't take my eyes off him. How could he stand there, acting so casual, after everything?

After what he'd done? My parents—gone, and yet here he was, mowing the lawn like it was nothing.

Like none of it had happened.

Was I in the twilight zone?

Or had I slipped into some twisted version of hell where the ordinary was distorted beyond recognition? I watched him, my mind a storm of conflicting emotions—fear, anger, confusion, and something else I couldn't quite place.

His movements were methodical, almost peaceful, and it made my stomach churn. How could he be so calm? How could he smile at me like I was the greatest prize he'd ever won after everything he'd done?

I sipped the iced tea, but the taste was bland, my mouth numb.

Nothing felt real.

It was like I was waiting for something to wake me up—like any second now, my alarm would go off and I'd be back in my own bed, safe, and this nightmare would be over. But that wasn't happening. This was real. This was my life now, and I was trapped.

I glanced down at my legs, at the way they felt almost disconnected from me, as if I were floating above it all.

I had ignored Damian for days, shut myself off completely, and now I wondered if it had pushed him to the edge. He seemed different—like he was reaching a breaking point, and I could feel it in the way his eyes lingered on me too long when he thought I wasn't looking.

After a while, Damian stopped mowing and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked over at me and smiled—a genuine, almost boyish smile that sent a chill down my spine. He put the lawnmower aside and approached me, pulling off his gloves as he walked.

I tensed as he came closer, gripping the armrests of the chair, my heart pounding in my chest.

Was he going to snap?

Was this the moment where his patience finally ran out?

Damian crouched down in front of me, resting his hands on his knees, and studied my face for a long moment. His expression was softer than it had been in days—like he was trying to understand me, to read what was going on inside my head.

"You haven't said much," he finally said, his voice low but careful. "I know you're upset. I know you're angry." He tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching mine. "But you don't have to be afraid of me, you know? I would never hurt you."

Never hurt me?

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout in his face, tell him that everything he'd done had already hurt me more than any physical wound could. But I couldn't find my voice. My throat felt tight, constricted, like the words were trapped there, unable to escape.

Instead, I stared at him in silence. Damian's eyes darkened, a flash of frustration passing over his face. He stood up abruptly, his jaw clenched.

"Okay," he said, his voice cold now. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine. But don't pretend like you don't know why I did what I did."

He stepped back, pacing slightly, his movements jerky and tense.

"Your parents... they were nothing. They didn't care about you. They left you to rot. They laughed at your pain. But me? I've always been there. I've always cared. And yet you look at me like I'm some kind of monster."

Isn't that what you are?

The words circled my mind, but I couldn't say them. My tongue felt heavy, my body still locked in place.

Damian's pacing grew more frantic, his hands running through his hair as he muttered to himself. 

"I waited. I've been patient. I gave you space, I gave you time, but now... now you're pushing me away."

He turned back to me, his eyes wild now, desperate.

"Why? Why can't you just see that I love you? That I'm doing this for us?" He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he was struggling to keep control.

I stared at him, still frozen, unable to move.

What do I say to that?

How do I reason with someone who doesn't see the world the way I do?

He had convinced himself that everything he was doing was for me, for us. But it wasn't. It was for him—because he couldn't bear the thought of losing the one thing he believed belonged to him.

Suddenly, Damian's face softened again, and he knelt down beside my chair. He reached out and took my hand in his, his grip firm but gentle.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I've always loved you. And I know, deep down, you love me too." His eyes bore into mine, pleading, searching for something that wasn't there.

I wanted to pull away, but I didn't.

I just stared at him, my mind a mess of conflicting thoughts. Part of me wanted to scream, to fight back, to tell him that he was wrong—that this wasn't love, that this was control and manipulation. 

But another part of me knew that nothing I said would change his mind. Damian had created his own reality, and in that reality, I was his.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm, to think.

I need to survive.

I need to find a way out.

But how? How do you escape someone who sees you as their entire world?

"I... I need time," I finally whispered, my voice trembling. "I just... need time to process everything."

Damian looked at me for a long moment, his eyes softening. He nodded slowly, standing up again.

"I understand," he said quietly. "I'll give you time. But don't forget—I'm here. I'll always be here."

He walked away, leaving me alone in the chair, the sun beating down on me as the lawnmower's hum faded into the distance.

I let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling in my lap.

Time.

That's all I had for now. But I had to make it count. Because sooner or later, Damian's patience would run out, and when it did, I knew there would be no escape.