Life In Misery | fan!yandere x reader

11/17/17

What the hell else could you do?

Michael supported you from behind almost like a child. Helped you into the wheelchair, He even unlocked it and pushed you right up to and under the typewriter desk.

" There you go. " he cooed, " All snug. "

For 2 hours before now, he fed you, washed and did your hair to the best of a young, straight-haired male's ability, let you get a little bit of cleanliness in. Put you in this sort of button-up looking thing with trousers that could also be buttoned up at the bottom, as opposed to having to pull them up your legs.

He did all the work so to speak. and now he has you giving him a live show. Shyly he reached out and pulled your shirt up a little to make you ultra-presentable.

" Alright! " He clapped his hands together, bright smile and all.

" Is there anything much more you want me to do for you? Do you need to be alone? "

" Well, how do you want the ending to go, exactly? "

He seemed to scoff in anger, disbelief, question? Then he slammed his hands on the desk like a child having a tantrum

" I don't write it! You do!

I was asking if you needed more food... more meds? Hot, cold? Hair bothering you? Oily? Swe-"

" I got you, Mike. " You said easily, but hastily as to not let him ramble, " I would just like a cup of water and a pencil to write separate notes down. So I don't get confused. "

What a show. A book wrote just for him! A proud man that makes him. He straightened his mind's tie. You looked at him while he stared at you patiently. Atleast he's not mad anymore... you can't tell what he is. You restated things so he could scurry off like the little animal he is; " Yes, I'd like to be alone. And that cup of water, if you will. I don't like to be stared at when I write. "

Michael's new mission was to retrieve the best looking cup and the most refreshing drops of water ever. Just kidding.

Not really.

" Okay. "

He departed from the room so briskly the door almost slammed closed. Damn. Now you were stuck in this school-child desk alone, unable to walk and latched in like a fuckin' rollercoaster. A god-damned place this was. Hell would be kinder than this.

If you counted on your fingers the days you could remember, you've only been here for a week. But that's a joke you recognized and laughed at a little.

Okay, again, with confidence this time;

You know Michael's last name is Rue.

Michael Rue. Narrows it down quite well, as you know he very well could the only one in the area.

You believe this house's address is 599 Denborough Lane in the city next to yours, from the letters he sent..

You know... er. You know your car could be somewhere, and that your manager is waiting on you..?

People on youtube wouldnt suspect anything for a while... You have an overabundance until they'll be anticipating anything new. This alone made you extremely bitter; so many eyes, an audience, all people who can't help you..

Aimlessly beginning to type, you picked up off of chapter 4 of the last book, right before the MC is pregnant with the baby that kills her. Think of something... Anti-Natalist..

' Jin could not find a true meaning of life. '

What a load of Bullshit. That wasn't the one-dimensional Jin you wrote. But...Ugh. The ability to show integrity was diminished greatly these days. You were almost a door mat.