Twisted Obsession [Yandere! Izaya x Reader]

Nineteen

           No matter how much you tired, you could not will your nerves to calm.

Your body shook incessantly, muscles and joints vibrating erratically. Head is suffering an otherworldly lightness and you are nearly on the brink of fainting. No longer under the water, but you still felt as if you were drowning. Izaya's obsession with you was bottomless like the black depths of the sea and you were sinking deeper and deeper into its abyss, the light of the surface far from your reach.

The subject of Shizuo Heiwajima had triggered the info broker's jealous rage and in consequence he almost killed you. This frightening incident generated an imperative question: Would he have really gone through with the deed?
Terrifying is the unknown of his thought process, but even so you don't truly believe he would let you go that easily. No. His strategy was to scare you into your place with threats and - if prompted - violence. Then again, you were greatly unsure of exactly how far he was willing to go with that method. What he could put you through, what you could live through...it would be extremely injudicious to incite him and find out.

"It's not your hate I want. It's your love."

He wasn't going to stop...

You sat quivering on that plush bed, hands gripping at your knees, awaiting the door to open and reveal your terrible fate. Despite the drastic punishment he had dispensed not too long ago, the informant's excitement for his dinner plans with you remained intact. He was disturbingly giddy, practically skipping out the room while announcing he needed to tend to the 'finishing touches' and for you to wait his return.

The cogs in your head whirled, hastily striving to formulate a potential effort that could liberate you from this prison. Futile as it was to even imagine overpowering him, the will to survive urged you to endeavor in the slightest possibility of escape. Eyes anxiously darted every inch of the room until they honed in on Izaya's fur-trimmed coat that lay beside you on the bed. There was brief hesitation; the info broker's switchblade may have still been latent within the pockets. [E/C] orbs flicker to the door and ears strain attentively to receive any echoes of menacing footsteps. Quickly, you slipped a shaky hand into the right pocket only to find it to be empty. Oncoming disappointment is halted by the ounce of adrenaline that was rushing through your veins and you move to check the other compartment. Your breath hitches, throat horribly swells as your fingers brush against the cold hilt. The contact with the weapon stirs a moral crisis inside your battered mind and the realm of your weakened soul. Once that blade was in your possession, you would have to use it with lethal intent.

After all the relentless bedlam and torment that Izaya has impenitently innovated, the thought of ending his life troubles you. To be deeply perturbed by an action that would be wholly justified frustrated you beyond rational understanding.

He had accomplished many things in his pursuit of you; he terrified you, isolated you, violated you, and constantly pushed your sanity to its limits. Above these atrocious exploits, what angers you the most, is that he did succeed in planting seeds of false sentiments in your thirsty soils. Although oblivious to the devil in disguise, the time personally spent with the informant had made you grow to care for him. Security and friendship, wicked spellbound illusions created to induce unnatural attachment. The conscious perception tangled with the vivacious hate you felt for him presently. Would these conflicted emotions hinder you to do what needed to be done? Again, prevailing over him, is a highly laughable notion to conceive, yet there is that viable 'what if' your hopeful disposition wants to desperately cling to. At this point, the only advantage you had was that Izaya did not expect much from you.