Scared (Bill Cipher x Reader)

Scared

     "...and with that, let's go to the weather. Tom?"
     "Yes, the hurricane on the western front is moving slightly upwards through northern California and is expected to hit parts of Oregon and Washington. Meanwhile, winds in surrounding areas will pick up to sixty miles per hour accompanied by approximately ten inches of precipitation. The eye will pass through Portland, Oregon and travel northwest."
      "Thank you, Tom. Make sure those of you in the pacific northwest stay safe during Hurricane Bill." Your mother sighed and turned off the television.
     "With this weather, there's no way your father will be able to make it down from Washington." You sighed inwardly and fidgeted with your hands in your lap. Your mother glanced out the window to see a dark sky, trees whipping in the wind like ribbons. Rain pelted down on Portland like tiny bullets.
     "I hope he's safe." Your mother sighed.
     "Go get some sleep. They canceled school tomorrow." You did as you were told. Only a second after you closed the door did Bill Cipher (quite literally) pop in.
     "Don't you have business to attend to elsewhere?" you asked, not looking at him. You could practically hear his signature smirk on his face, not that you needed any tell to know it was there.
     "I thought I might visit my hurricane."
     "It's not your hurricane."
     "It's named after me."
     "It's not named after anybody. They needed to name it so they chose Bill." He sighed in exasperation.
      "You're quite the tough cookie, aren't you?" he asked, swinging his cane. A knock at the door resounded, followed by the slight creak of its opening. Your mom peeked her head through the door.
      "Talking to Bill, I presume?"
      "Yeah," you said, looking at him pointedly. She nodded.
      "Okay. Don't forget about your meeting with your therapist tomorrow. If we can get over there, that is," she said before slipping back into the living room.
      "Therapists won't make me go away," Bill said teasingly.
      "Oh, trust me when I say I know."
      "I always trust you, sweetheart!" You sighed, sitting down at your vanity and taking a look in the mirror. The dark circles under were eyes were prominent, and the stress of your daily goings-on had taken a toll on your physical appearance. Your skin was colorless, and you weren't even sure you remembered what your smile looked like. Bill put his hands on your shoulders, his cane floating behind him ominously, and put his cheek next to yours, a sickening grin on his face, revealing a set of pearl white teeth that seemed carnivorous.
     "Cmon, doll. Make a deal with me. I may even leave you alone," he persisted persuasively. You were almost inclined to take him up on his offer, but you were quickly sobered by the thought of what he'd want in return. Of course, this was all in your head anyway. You wouldn't let him win by treating him like a real threat. He pursed his lips, leaning forward on his cane. "Make a deal with me, and I'll show you how real I can be."
      You eyed his reflection in the mirror before running a brush through your hair and climbing into bed. You reached to turn off the lamp dimly lighting your room, but his cane was around your wrist in seconds, pulling it towards him.
     "You sure you wanna do that? I'm in my prime in the dark." The predatory smile was back with a vengeance, and his eyes glowed yellow. Your heart picked up its pace, and you began second-guessing whether you wanted to sleep at all. He was right; he was in his prime in the dark. Dark usually meant sleep, and he'd often appear in your nightmares. "Still don't think I'm real?" You gulped as you were pressed into the bed by a strong hand, a knife appearing in his other. Your palms felt sweaty, and a cold sweat ran dampened your back. You trembled under his rapacious gaze.
     He brought the knife back, and you flinched, but he plunged the tip into the headboard and carved a small triangle right above your head. And then he was gone, and the pressure on your chest released, and you darted into the living room and tugged on your mom's arm.
     "What is it, (y/n)?" she asked worriedly. You pointed to the triangle on the headboard.
     "Do you see that?" Your mother blinked.
     "Why'd you do that? That headboard was expensive," your mom chided, glancing back at your face. "Oh, honey, you're pale."
     "I'm f-" Her eyes flashed yellow, and her voice was a cacophony of sound.
     "Are you scared?"