Escape (Yandere x reader)

Chapter 2

        Stressed would be an understatement to how I felt; the unending stream of classwork, paired with the 'Karens' I had to deal with on an everyday basis left me burnt out beyond belief. As the weeks went on, I caught myself zoning out at random intervals, at first only for a few minutes, to not recalling the majority of the day--as though I were on autopilot.

As I sit on my thin mattress, the feeling of exhaustion causes my knees to almost buckle under me. Piles of neatly stacked textbooks and folders sit parallel to my bed, as though taunting me. I give an exasperated sigh, I'm finally done with work.

My mind scours for any tasks I might have missed, feeling off-put by the lack of stimulation. I shake my head in disagreement at my attempts to find a task, collapsing onto my bed. My eyelids slam down almost immediately, agreeing with my decision whole-heartedly.

I am discombobulated as my vision returns, showing a weird view of my floor. Putting two and two together, I concluded I fell off the bed. I feel my heart thundering for some unknown reason, my body trembling from adrenaline. I notice my head feels as though it were filled with cotton, as well as my dripping face--a mixture of sweat and tears.

As I shakily pull myself up, I try to ignore the weird sense of terror brimming in my chest, seeing no source in the lit apartment, no matter how fervently I look. My hands grasp the scratchy carpet to pull myself back into reality.

I jump in fright at the sound of my ringtone, once I recognize it, I laugh at my nerves. I observe my phone, manically buzzing, alerting me of a caller: James. Frowning, I allow it to go to voicemail, sitting in silence, I was not in the mood to talk. Once the notification disappears, I groan in distress at the clock, 7:07 am.

Not looking forward to my 8 am class I run over to my coffee machine, desperate for some caffeine. As I stand idly by the machine, whirring loudly, I am overcome with a peculiar sense of dread. My chest tightens as I fearfully glance over my shoulder: just my shadow. Huffing at my paranoia, I ignore the lingering sense of unease.

Peering into my black coffee, I am met with deep purple bags adorned under my puffy eyes. Disappointed in my fitful sleep, I put generous amounts of creamer in.

After another uneventful day of work, I peer up at my popcorn ceiling in contemplation; was it worth going to sleep. My eyelids feel glued open as I glance at my classwork, all finished. Maybe I could work on some extra credit, I think to myself.

No, I shake my head, I desperately need some sleep, no matter some silly fear of nightmares. I begrudgingly allow myself to drift off, body tense, and reluctant.

Last night's escapade seems to repeat its self as I awaken with a rough jolt. I am made aware that it is still nighttime by the black room, unable to read my surroundings--only able to tell my location by the itchy carpet. My breath seems to be thunderingly loud, echoing in the room, making me feel even more nauseous.

The feeling of dread persists as I cannot see what is causing my distress. I scour my mind for something, unable to close my eyes. I can only remember a single element of my torment: a willowy figure. I break out into an even heavier cold sweat.