Oneshots for Every Girl [Vol. 2]

Black as Nyght ~Jake Pitts~

{[[[[YANDERE]]]}

[Name] wandered around the halls of the empty house, wandering what was taken her beau so long to return home. It was her first nyght alone in the new house that they had bought soon after becoming engaged. They were due to be wed tomorrow, so the [body type] woman supposed that it was just her nerves and not anything dangerous that was making the tiny [colour] hairs on the back of her neck arise. Thanks to the thunder storm outside, the homey ambiance melted to creepy and she tried her best to keep her [colour] eyes open because she had seen way too many horror movies.

She just knew that they'd be a knock at the door, which she would open to reveal the serial killer before being brutally murdered.

Instead of that, the [height] woman heard something much creepier. Something was being.... dragged? Unmistakably, there was the sound of some item or another being towed against the freshly laid down laminate flooring of the main bedroom. But, her fiancée was at the studio doing some late nyght guitar rifts for their latest album? So then, whom was upstairs? [Name] gulped, her [skin tone] hand on the smooth cherry wood railing as she placed her [shoe size] foot on the first stair. With another gulp, she found herself taking the stairs two at a time and announcing that she was wielding an AK-47, which was a very bold lie. Most women don't walk around their houses at nyght with a semiautomatic machine gun. However, the sound stopped for a few seconds before it continued. The idea of retreating to the kitchen to get a carving knife entered her brain, but the [age] woman had already stepped off of stairwell and felt the [colour] carpet beneath her bare toes.

"Who's there?" she demanded to know.

"It's just me," Jake's voice soothed her.

She couldn't see him, though, despite it being only six in the afternoon. It was black as nyght due to the closed curtains that she herself had drawn so psychotic serial killers wouldn't target her in the middle of the nyght.

"What are you doing home so early?" [Name] asked, walking towards the spot his voice was.

"Taking out the trash," he smoothly said.

At this time, she squinted. The thing by his side on the floor did seem to be bulky, like most of their garbage bags, but she swore that she could make out the shape of an arm?

"Jake, didn't I do that earlier after supper?"

"No," he replied too quickly.

Blindly, [Name] reached out for the wall and felt around for the light switch. She needed to put her paranoia to rest and she wanted to see Jake's calming eyes.

However, the moment her thumb brushed against it, someone had her tackled.

"OW, Jake?!"

"Damn bitch, you should've listened to me and just fucking gone to bed," the guitarist hissed, fumbling around in his pocket for something.

It was still so dark, but the switch had gone up halfway and her eyes shot directly to the so-called trash.

She wanted to gag and scream, but settled for thrashing and crying.

Oh dear [deity], it was a corpse.

"Good nyght, [Name]," Jake whispered, running something cold against her throat.

And then, everything went back to being black as nyght.