-A twisted Fate?- An Art The clown x Fem!Reader

The 'Final' Act

The weight of reality crashed down on you as you knelt by Jake's side, your trembling hands slick with his blood. The coppery scent filled the air, mingling with the suffocating dread that had been building in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it how this had happened so fast, how Art had gotten to him without you even knowing.

Jake's chest barely rose and fell, his breath weak, shallow, slipping away. He was still alive.. barely, and that small glimmer of hope made your heart ache even more. But as you pressed harder on his wound, desperately trying to stop the flow of blood, you knew deep down that it was hopeless. There was too much damage. Too much blood lost.

And Art... Art was standing right there, watching you with that same eerie calm, his grin never faltering.

You wanted to scream, to lash out, to do something anything to stop him, but fear had you in its grip, paralyzing every muscle. He was in no rush, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he approached. His eyes gleamed with amusement, as if he were savoring every second of your suffering, watching your desperate attempts to save Jake with that twisted, playful curiosity.

As Art came closer, your breath hitched, a sob rising in your throat. You couldn't protect Jake. You couldn't stop Art. The weight of your helplessness crushed you, threatening to drag you under.

"Jake... please," you whimpered, your voice breaking as you shook him again, willing him to wake up, to fight, to survive. But there was no response. His skin was cold, his breath faint, slipping away with every passing second.

And then, Art knelt down beside you.

Your heart stopped as his black-gloved hand reached out toward Jake, fingers hovering over his chest. For a brief moment, you almost thought he was going to stop, maybe to toy with you, to prolong the agony. But no.

Without hesitation, Art plunged a long, jagged knife into Jake's chest.

A scream tore from your throat, raw and animalistic, as the blade sank into Jake's heart with a sickening crunch. His body jerked violently, a final spasm of life before he went completely still. Blood bubbled from the wound, spilling over Art's gloved hand as he twisted the knife, driving it deeper into Jake's flesh.

"No! No!" You lunged forward, trying to push Art away, to stop him, but he didn't even flinch. He just looked up at you with that grotesque, painted grin, his wide, unblinking eyes locking onto yours as if daring you to try.

You hit him, your fists pounding against his chest, but it was like hitting a wall. Art didn't move, didn't react just kept smiling that horrible smile as he slowly pulled the knife out of Jake's chest, the sound of metal scraping against bone echoing in your ears.

And then it was over.

Jake's body slumped lifelessly to the floor, his eyes dull and glassy, staring at nothing.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down at him, the reality of his death crashing over you like a tidal wave. The man you loved was gone. He wasn't coming back.

Art stood up, wiping the blood from his knife with a casual flick of his wrist, as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He watched you with that same detached amusement, waiting for your next move, relishing in your despair.

You collapsed beside Jake's body, your chest heaving with sobs. The pain was unbearable, tearing through you like shards of glass. You had lost. Art had taken everything from you- your hope, your safety, and now, Jake.

You stared at Jake's lifeless face, the warmth in his eyes gone forever, and the crushing weight of your powerlessness settled deep in your bones.

"Why?" you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper, your tears falling freely. "Why are you doing this?"

Art tilted his head, considering your question for a moment, but of course, he didn't answer. He never did. He didn't need to.

This wasn't about why.

It was about the game. The chase. The thrill of watching you break. He had won, and now he was savoring every last second of your destruction.

You felt a shift in the air-a subtle change in his posture-and you knew what was coming next. There was no one left to protect you. No one left to save.

And now, it was your turn.

Art's slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the living room as he advanced toward you, the bloodstained knife glinting in the dim light. Your body trembled, but you didn't move. There was nowhere to go. No escape. Not this time.

You closed your eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks, your heart racing with the terror of what was about to happen. The cold reality of your fate sank in-this was how it ended. You were going to die at the hands of this monster, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Art's breathy silent giggle 'filled the room', and you braced yourself for the inevitable.

But then, something inside you shifted.

A spark of defiance. A desperate, burning instinct for survival flared up inside you, pushing through the haze of fear. You couldn't let it end like this. You wouldn't.

Your eyes snapped open.

And with the last bit of strength you had, you lunged toward the coffee table, grabbing the heavy glass vase sitting on top of it. Without thinking, you swung it with all your might, the weight of it crashing into Art's face with a sickening crack.

Art staggered backward, his grin faltering for the first time as he stumbled, caught off guard by the force of the blow. Blood trickled down his face, smearing the white paint, but the surprise in his eyes only lasted a moment.

Then, his grin widened, more manic than ever, as if you had just made things even more fun for him.

He took a step forward, knife raised, his eyes wild with anticipation.

And you ran.