Rest Now: A Wilford Warfstache X Reader (Complete)

Chapter Two

(Y/N) Point of View:

   I awoke to a crash. I jolted up in my bed to a sitting position, my heart frantic. Shakily, I got out of bed and hesitantly approached my open bedroom door. 

   "Hello?"

   Nothing...

   I bit my lip, and started down the hall to the rest of my dark house. At the end of the hall, I reached over and fumbled for the light switch. I felt it, then froze when I heard a sigh... Right behind me.

   "It's been... Well, forever. Since I've seen someone other than those blasted fools. And for once, I am quiet happy."

   I gasped, then spun around, and a hand went over my mouth, and a hand roughly grabbed my arm.

   "Shh... Don't scream. I wouldn't like my first memory of the real world to be pulling a gun on a beautiful girl," the intruder purred. "Are you going to be good?"

   I nodded hesitantly, and he pulled away. "Good. Let me," I felt him reach over me, and the light was on.

   I winced in the sudden flood of light, then blinked away the dark spots in my vision. Once my vision came back, I looked up. The man in front of me was maybe a little older than me, maybe in his late twenties. He was wearing a cream, button down shirt, with a red and white, pin-stripped dinner jacket. He had a pink bow tie, and a black top hat in his left hand. He wore black slacks, and black dress shoes. The man had shaved sides, and pink hair, which was flipped over to the right, along with a pink mustache under his nose. He wore glasses, and had brown, narrow eyes.

   I quickly stepped back, giving us more room between us. "Who are you?" I asked, glaring at the strange man.

   He smiled. "My name is Wilford Warfstache, Honey. And you would be...?"

   I fidgeted, glancing away. 

   "Hm... Not answering? That's alright, but I guess our little meeting will have to be cut short," Wilford said, then pulled a small, gold gun out of his pocket.

   I stepped back more, and held my hands up as he pointed it at me. "(Y/N)! My name is (Y/N)," I said hurriedly.

   He smiled, then lowered the gun. "There? See, it wasn't that hard," he put it away and we stood there, staring at each other.

   "Wh-why are you here?"

   "Well, it seems that since this is my first time out, I ne-"

   "Out? Out of where? Jail? Prison?"

   Wilford's smile slipped into a glare, and his hand slowly reached back into his pocket. "You do not interrupt me. Do it again, and you will have a bullet between your pretty, (E/C) eyes. Got it?"

   "Yes," I whimpered, my heart rate spiking.

   "Good," he straightened his jacket, then composed himself. "As I was saying, I need a place to stay. This house seemed good enough for me to 'lay low' for a while, so I guess you could say that you are now my hostage, my little 'play thing', he grinned.

Wilford Warfstache Point of View:

   "...my little 'play thing'."

   A look of horror spread across her face as I said that, and I became giddy. Yes, that is what I wanted to see. Know I could do anything to you, (Y/N), know it well. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she started to sink down to the ground. 

   I frowned, confused. "What are you-?"

   She started to sob.

   What the hell? She should be scared, yes, but crying? Like this? No... Something's off.

(WARNING! This part is a very sensitive topic. I'm sorry if this has ever happened to any of you, and I understand completely. If it hasn't, understand that there are a lot of others who have gone through people's shit. It's hard for me to even talk about it, so my feelings go out through this book, and maybe others. I'm sorry if you have gone through any form of abuse, honestly. This has been a warning. Thank you.)

   She curled up into a ball, sobbing, and not seeming to get enough breath. She would gasp, but her throat seemed to be constricted, then start crying. I stood there, confused. "What the hell are you doing?"

   She didn't seem to hear me. "No. Not again. I can't do that again!" She sat up suddenly, and opened her mouth to let out an ear-piercing scream.

   What the hell? I covered my ears, and waited until she stopped. I stared as she went back to sobbing, mumbling something about her dad, and touching, and prison time between sobs and gasps of air. I frowned. Dad... Touching... Prison time...

   Oh, hell...

   I took a step back, eyes widening. I did not just remind her of something like child abuse, did I? 

   "Um. I-I'm not going to... hurt you that way. I promi-!"

   She quieted, but didn't stop crying. "Pills, pills, pills. I need my pills," she whispered in a sing-song voice.

   I rushed down the hall, and found the bathroom. What the hell am I doing? Helping some girl with past daddy issues? I growled to myself as I opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. An orange pill bottle sat on the middle shelf, and in neat, printed letters said "Sertraline". Sighing, I grabbed the bottle and rushed back out.

   (Y/N) sat against the wall, eyes dull.

   "Hey, I got the pills," I said, holding them out.

   Her eyes moved to my face, but seemed to go right through me. She held out her hand. "One," she said in a monotone voice.

   I cursed, then opened the bottle, and placed one in her hand. She stared at it for a while, then brought it to her lips, and swallowed. I relaxed, as she returned to staring at the wall ahead of her. 

   "What have I gotten myself into?"