Lost - Reader/Lena Luthor(FxF)

What the Fuck?

Prompt by: MachoNachoKennedy

"Jesus. Not again!"

You yelled at her. Hoping she would just go away but she doesn't. The woman keeps on yelling at you about how it was her apartment and so on. Frankly, you had tuned her out by covering your ears with the pillow. Partly so you won't have to listen to her and partly so you could convince yourself that this was you dreaming.

"Go away! You don't exist. Please...just go away."

The woman hears the change in your tone and stops her yelling. She hadn't hear you sound this defeated.

"Oh my god. Something is wrong. This is more serious than I thought." She mumbles to herself. "Okay, have you increase alcohol consumption?"

You ignore her, hoping if you don't talk to her that she'll just go away on her own.

"Go away! Go away! Go away!"

You keep on repeating, getting louder and louder so you won't hear her.

"Answer me, you idiot!"

She yells at you, tired of being ignored.

"Why do you care? It doesn't concern you. Just get out!"

You yelled through your pillow.

"Please, can you just answer it?"

"No, okay! I stopped drinking a week ago."

"Are you hearing or seeing things that aren't real?"

"As a matter of fact? Yes!"

The questions keep on coming. You, of course answer them but you can't help but think that she might be a real and a complete psycho. All of her questions were medically-related and it was beginning to creep you out with how invasive they were. She didn't even react to anything you were saying. Out of nowhere, you just stop answering her questions.

The woman sighs and sits on the bed, facing you.

"Listen, you are purely fantasizing that you live in somebody else's home. Now go pick up that pillow."

You hesitate but do as she tells you to do. Maybe she had the answer. Besides, what else did you have to lose.

"There's a small ripped part under that pillow."

You turn it around, finding that the pillow was in fact ripped.

"I got these sheets in Italy. Go check the receipt in the drawer. I just go them a few days ago."

You look over to the drawer, wanting to go check it out but you decide against it.

"You need some serious help. I believe you might be experiencing a mental health issue."

"Really?"

You ask her, almost believing what she was saying.

"Yeah, that's my bed, my pillow, my picture...where the hell is my picture?"

"What picture? That was empty when I moved in!"

"MY PICTURE! It's right there! You know what? That's it. I had enough of this, I'm calling the police."

She says as she makes her way to the dresser for her phone. You try to stop her but wasn't fast enough to reach her before she got reaches the phone. The woman gives you a grin and reaches for the phone, only for her hand to go through it. She frowns at this and reaches again for her phone, only for the same thing to happen again. Again and again it happens. You can't believe what was happening. Maybe she was right about the mental health issue. Something wasn't right.