Call Me Insane (Wilford Warfstache X Reader)

Chapter 6 - Crystal Eyes

I waited and waited for death to come. I waited for my vision to go black. I wanted my surroundings to suffocate me and my own body to strangle me. But nothing happened. And nothing will ever happen. I'm stuck living in this cruel, violent world.

The soup didn't kill me but my lonely nights alone did. It's been a week and I have been deprived from sleep ever since all of this started. There were bags under my eyes and I tried to cover it up with makeup. But when I would look in the mirror after an hour or two, there they are again. Tired eyes tearing off the coverup. They spoke to me saying only one word. Sleep.
But I didn't answer the begging. I continued to stay up late and wake up early. My life now depends on coffee and midday naps. Yet they weren't naps. It was me passing out in my office chair to the sounds of people talking and doing work around me. I would wake to the noise of the squeaking mail cart or closing of doors.

He has changed my life upside down without a touch. I'm scared to sleep because I'm afraid he will appear in my dreams again. I'm scared to walk out of my apartment just so I could be forced into my future body bag. Carried off to god knows where. If this is how I react now without seeing his full potential, lord help me if I go through the whole experience.

Now I sit at my desk again. 5 am in the morning on a Wednesday. It was starting to rain and I was lucky enough to have my desk seated by a window. It was dark out, besides some building lights that were blurry through the water covered windows. The drops trailed down the glass ever so slowly. I swear the clear liquid turned to a deep red for a moment.
But I liked rain and its sounds. It calms me and is amusing to watch. I close my eyes, the office still sparse. I could use a nice rest. The boss wouldn't notice. He was still in his office, barely showing his face to his employees. He gets worse by the day it seems.

I haven't been contacted by that monster for a while now, hoping he won't come by any time soon. Maybe he'll go away. Maybe he'll never come for me. I relax my shoulders, my chair becoming ten times softer. I love the sound of that. Maybe I'll have my life back because he forgot. I lay back in my chair, sliding down slightly. Even better, what if he was in the process of getting caught at this moment. He would be locked up forever. A stupid grin forms on my face to those last three words. The rains lullabies sing me to sleep. I would be at peace. That is all I want.

A hand suddenly lays on my shoulder and I jump to my feet, torn away from my comfort. My body is thrown into a state of fear. It's him! He found me! He is going to take me away!

But no....It wasn't him. My eyes fall onto a fellow coworker instead. Nathan Beckett.

"Woah, woah," he raises his hands fast in the air, backing up a little,"I don't mean to cause harm."

A wave of relief runs through me. Oh thank god. It was only Nathan. I look him over, still in a partial state of shock.
He is man who had the most handsome light blue eyes. His chestnut hair was always in a layered, short style. Yet he kept it neat. He always had a clean shaven face that allowed for a fair jawline to show. And he always dressed in a button down shirt for work. Today he matched his shirt to his eyes. Yet his eyes were always covered by black framed, rectangular glasses. He is young, around my age, and his work is very impressive. He has completed fifteen cases from his start here four months ago. Some argue to say he had only helped a little in the cases or possibly not at all. But most call those people jealous of him, me being one of those people. His desk was on the side of mine, a little distance away, yet we barely talked. I don't talk to anyone in general anyway so it doesn't surprise me. Especially now a days. Why did my boss give me this case again?

"Beckett. I wasn't expecting you to be here this early. You scared the living daylights out of me."

I sit back down slowly. He never comes this early in the morning. Even on his good days.