𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨, 𝙊𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨. // WILLIAM AFTON X READER

.○° CHAPTER 9 °○.

» [For The Love Of God] «
{{[Mindless Self Indulgence]}}
0:35 ─〇───── 2:15
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

"His obsession."

You found yourself in William's bedroom, but everything was dark. The windows were blacked out. Sweat clung to your skin, your hair plastered to your forehead. You notice your chest covered in blood, dripping from your mouth.

Your tooth was bleeding rapidly, and your arms had reopened wounds you thought had scarred over a few years ago, crimson liquid pouring in rivulets down onto the hardwood floors.

You tried to scream or cry, but nothing came out, only a strangled noise that was hardly audible. Suddenly, you looked up, and William was there. He was grinning like a madman. In his hand held a knife, a simple yet deadly weapon.

Beside him lay Joshua's dead body, with stab wounds and a slashed neck, like yours. You gasp, stumbling back. William cackled, stalking closer until his knife was against your chest.

"Oh, sweetheart.. I did this for you."

His voice was cold, horrific. He pushed the knife forwards, and suddenly..

Your eyes shot open.

You take a sharp inhale, your body shooting up. You were in your bed, panting and sweaty, sunlight streaming in through your window. With a nervous shudder, you look down and notice you were in the same garment as yesterday.

Vaguely, your memories began to paddle back to you. You remember the Christmas party, the kiss..

But most of all, you remember the dream. The nightmare you'd just had.

With shaky hands, you reach for your anxiety medication, something you'd gotten a prescription for a long while back.

You couldn't possibly believe that he had killed Joshua for real, right? Well, this isn't the first time it's come to your head, either. Swallowing the pill with some 3 day old water and a frown, you stand up and peel off your clothing, grabbing a towel and making your way to the bathroom.

Turning on the hot stream of water, your mind is like a whirlwind of questions you just can't seem to answer.

Just before you were about to get in, your phone rang. The name on your phone read 'British Purple Freakazoid'. Well.. No doubting who that was.

You go to answer, but something stops you. The dream...

Pushing your thoughts aside, you simply pick up your phone and answer it.

"Hello?"

Your voice is hoarse and crackly, and you had to clear your throat a couple of times so your word was coherent. A soft chuckle fills the other end, nothing like the nightmarish voice you'd just heard.

"Did I wake you, doll?"

His voice was smooth, a stark contrast to the monster he appeared to be in your dream. With a sigh, you respond and look at your reflection in the mirror.

"No, but I did wake up not too long ago. I was about to get in the shower."

You said, earning a teasing remark from the British man, his tone light and playful.

"Without me?"

Silence.

"I'm kidding."

His voice reigned more seriously, sounding almost annoyed that his joke earned no laughter. He then spoke up before you, his deep baritone escaping from the speaker of your phone.