Life In Misery | fan!yandere x reader

5/17

" Michael." The shadow enveloped him like an ant on the beach. The smell is what hit him first, and stopped him from jumping out of his skin at the sound of his name. Funny, really, his old man was a Doctor, but the bottle had him handcuffed to it like a fly on paper.

" What? Whaaat? " Michael did spin around in his chair, keeping his fancy hand tucked in the sleeve of his jacket. His father dulled his expression slightly, but the alcohol had numbed his brain down enough to halt him from showing any real emotion - atleast, that's the explanation Mike's head had for it. His father was such a simple character and simple characters were easy to manipulate. But he couldn't be enveloped his own mind if he wanted to do so, so he listened up for once.

There was the obvious, that no discussion between them could be positive. Not in it's essence, not in its beginning or end, and not even at face value. But he will speak.

With a gruff sigh, and the maintaining 'problematic customer' voice, that now doubled as a 'sassy teenager' voice, his old man spoke up. Just the look on his face made Mike grimace. He was going to give him another sermon, and he didn't feel like hearing one. They didn't mean shit to him. The man's mouth gaped before the words formed, and sure enough, they did;

" I'm not going to ask you to stop sitting up in your room, I know it's more ....comfortable... for you.

But, I am giving you a warning to get these assignments in. It is the only thing you focus on. Lest you end up hurting your future patients instead of caring for them. " His father paused for a moment and his heart lurched up his throat.

Why is he so anxious? Of all people.

" Uhh... " He started. A moment of silence passed them, as usual. The boy thought, If there was a world record for drunkly-slurring-uhhh's and grunting, Mr. rue had to have surpassed it quadruple times over. " There is.... "

He snorted after finally reattaching his train of thought, " Hmmm. I've heard talk about your assignments, and things that antedate it... "

Michael sat quietly. He heard the scratch of his father dragging his nails against his beard in thought and frowned in disgust. Pig. He's had his CNA license; his father probably didn't even know his ass from his elbow at his age. Apparently he still doesn't, as from what he's seen, complete sobriety has become very rare.

" They say you're very good. Just uninterested.
I'd like for you to stakeout at the ol' market with me. Of course, with my supervision.

It'll accustom you with the world of medicine.. And grow your gusto for things that aren't your.. little, devices. " The computer, he meant.

He wanted to humor the idea and shoot, 'Isn't that extremely illegal?', and follow it right up with a stinger, 'You're willing to comprise your job for some odd sermon on medicine?' but it'd just be jeopardizing a perfectly good opportunity.

There were things he could find on the shelves to try out on others but they seldom worked; always too mild or too obvious of being present. The worst he could find with Rohypnol - and even then, they colored and bittered the sleeping pills, fogging up water or souring up food. While he was shadowing other nurses during his CNA training, he nearly got caught messing with the elderly's vitamin bags. Nearly. His actions are well thought out and for what, personally, seemed sound and proper.

His elastic clause stretched to many things. Keeping himself safe. Keeping your reputation squeaky clean. Keeping the money flowing in, keeping nosy little people out. Having a little fun.

Speaking of the time he shadowed those nurses, he gleed himself in his excellent capture of the stuff. GHB for a narcoleptic patient.

Who he'll use it on and when it will happen is still to be decided, but if he can get his hands on something like it while with his father, he's very sure things will fall into place.

-

As soon as that rank old bugger was out of sight he looked over something he's been very curious of as of late; keeping people in a paralyzed state with drugs.

Not particularly asleep, but too dull in the muscles to reach peak animation.

It fascinated him greatly and arouse such attention that his physical notes began to be disregarded in place of the new, striking search for something he could use to achieve it.

Unwillingly, he began to think of his father's words... 'Lest he ends up hurting his future patients instead of caring for them'...? The topic of hurting wasn't too big of a deal for him. He'd never hurt you and as much as he wished he could drive himself to it, he's never truly hurt his father. Yet.

The thought of having a paralyzed subject was fascinating and.... tempting. If he had you all to himself. Hm. It was best to just not to occupy his mind with bad thoughts at this time, it was still daylight.

But he cannot help but wonder.