Here We Fu*king go (Death The Kid x Reader)

Chapter 1

BRIIIIIIIIIIIIING
     BRIIIIIIIIIIIIING
          BRIIIIIIIIIIIIING

I hit the alarm with immense force. I sigh, pulling myself up. I have the biggest headache, and the first thing that hits me is the smell of sweat and the humidity in the room. My nightmares are no joke, last night I kept reliving hellish memories that already haunt me when I'm awake. I pull myself up.

4:37 AM

I fumble around my room in the general direction of my light switch, desperately wanting to get out of the dark. I finally find it and drag my self to my closet, passing my mirror. My sickly skin is what catches my eye and I start judging myself.

My eyes are red and puffy, my skin looks oily from sweat, the bags under my eyes only seem to be getting bigger and bigger, there are a bunch of bruises on my arms and body, and there are claw marks on my neck from me scratching myself in my sleep. In short: I look like hell. I smile to myself a little, stepping back a little and taking a good look at my face.

"At least my face is perfectly symmetrical."

I step out into the hallway and the rush of the cold desert night air hits me and wakes me up with a harsh shiver. I step lightly down the long hallway to my bathroom, a light coming from the bottom of the door. No one is in there, I'm just scared to open a room and there be complete darkness. I enter and immediately peel off my gross, smelly clothes and aimlessly toss them about the bathroom.

Stepping in the stand-up shower, I take in all my essentials from the sink's countertop and close the yellow tinted glass sliding door. I turn on the coldest setting and try my best to desperately cool my body off. Whenever I get nightmares like this, which is every other night, I start tossing and turning and dripping a gross sweat that takes forever to clean off. I start scrubbing my body harshly with my raspberry smelling body wash, the smell of which was nice for my headache. as my headache started lifting, I was able to start thinking more clearly.

I was suddenly in a part of my head that I never liked being in.

Pigs squealing is all I heard. She made me hurt them because their screams were the closest thing to humans that she could find. She thought that if she could desensitize me to the pigs, I wouldn't have any problems with the humans that she thought were so pathetic. I remember her telling me why, down to her hot breath that smelled of rotting meat.

I throw myself against the tile wall hard, knocking me out of my thoughts and triggering acute pain on the bruises on that side of my body. I gasp for breath like it was stolen from me. The cold water helps bring me back to reality, and I continue cleaning myself.

Once I was done, I stepped out and took out the med kit below my sink. I sat down on my toilet and pull out the hydroperoxide and cotton balls. I pull up my counter mirror and examine the scratch marks on my neck. Black was crusted on the edges of the cuts, but they weren't that deep, nothing that couldn't heal immediately. I clean it, not flinching when it stung from being so used to the pain already.

I got dressed up, nothing fancy, very casual. I had a black tank top on with a giant rugged 'X' on the stomach with a yellow, red, and black plaid flannel the went down to my knees. I pulled on my ripped jeans that I DIY'd last summer out of high boredom and pulled on some mix-matching socks.

I looked myself over in the floor to ground mirror in my bathroom and nodded my head. Now my hair was mostly dry, so I brush it up into a bun, letting some bangs fall.

I walk out into the hall again and look down to my left. There my big, fat pitbull is wagging his tail with a happy look on his face. I keel down to give him lots of love and pets.

"Good morning my baby!!! Hello!! Aren't you just lovely this morning?" I squeal at him, getting a low "ruff" of satisfaction in return.

I smile wildly and stand up, immediately in a better mood. I head to my room to pack up.

"Oh if only I could bring you to school, but that hell is no place for a sweet old man like you, is it now?"

I look over at my doorway where my little Herc is wagging his tail with a large goofy grin. He's 10 but still acts like he's a puppy. I hope I have that energy when I'm old if I get old.

I walk past him and slide down my rail with my bag in my lap. I hear the little pitter-patter of Hercules nails against the hardwood floor as he follows me and I smile. I look at the clock on my wall.

6:45 AM

I have time. I bring out meats and veggies and cook them up for Herc to eat, making sure to add fish oil so he gets the proper nutrients from the veggies. He barks the whole time, which I don't mind. I often have full conversations with him while making his food. Who's gonna hear it? I live an hour away from civilization, not a single soul around for miles.

I eat my microwaved leftovers from last night's stir fry and head out my door with my bag hanging low. Hercules follows me and whines. It's only been a week since school has started up again and he has to get used to me leaving every day again. I always feel my heart break when I hear that tell-tale while of fear.

I smile sadly at him and bend over to give him a big treat. He happily accepted and I gave him a good few scratches along with a "good boy". I left and got into my truck, starting it up and backing out into the desert that surrounded my house for miles.

"Death academy, here I fucking go."