•Chapter 19•

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Y/n's eyes fluttered open from the quick nap that resulted from Michael making her rest. The room had gotten darker due to the outside being a shade of purple instead of a light blue. She rubbed the dust from her eyes and sat up to stretch her arms while yawning. Seeing the stalker in the corner, she rolled her eyes. "Did you watch me while I was asleep?" Y/n asked casually despite the nature of the sentence.

He nodded once and she sighed, looking at the kitchen which had the lights on. Flaring her nostrils at all the paperwork she dragged out for her little investigation. As of now, she didn't need them anymore, all she needed to do was a quick search about the medication she was on. She scowled about organizing and hauling the boxes back up stairs. Being herself, she'd probably procrastinate and leave the boxes sitting at the table for over two weeks tops. She arched her back in another stretch, but her stomach let out an uncomfortably loud growl, making her recoil.
"Shit..." the last time she had ate was in the morning with her mother.

Y/n tapped her lip in thought, and looked at Michael. "You wouldn't be opposed to pizza, would you?" He shrugged. 'Like I was expecting him to say anything else' she walked to the kitchen and looked at fridge and her assortments of magnets. "Car repair, gutter cleaning, ah pizza" she peeled it off of the fridge and grabbed her flip phone, dialing the number on the magnet.
She ordered her usual and hung up the phone.
"It's being delivered, so don't freak out about me leaving again"

Y/n snarked at the stalker who now was conviently in the doorframe, his head reaching well passed the top of it. "Shit, I forgot to ask if you wanted anything. Well, do you even eat?"
Michael shook his head to the question. "How are you even alive?! Whatever, you should try some pizza since I doubt you've had any in some time. A life without pizza is not worth living"
A strong gust of wind hurled itself at the house right after Y/n finished her sentence. She shivered as a draft entered the kitchen "-and I still need to get that damn door fixed. Which YOU broke"

Michael stood unmoving and held up his notebook
"Sorry"
A slight feeling of guilt crawled into her skin but she quickly pushed it aside. "Well, you better help out around here. I'm going to need a bit of money to fix that so I'll be working full shifts soon in order to pay for it"
As if a serial killer cared about doing chores to begin with. If anything, she the one that's crazy. She herself was wondering why she hadn't been brutalized, and why the hell she was so okay with him being around.

A shiver was sent down her spine, was he just waiting for her to let her guard down? Take her house, maybe, just maybe enslave and torture her?
Phase one must've been done, because she had gotten way too comfortable with him around. But unbeknownst to her, the killer was absolutely clueless. Watching her stand in the middle of the kitchen deep in thought.
She jumped back into reality once the floorboards under Michael creaked.

"Well, there's nothing else to do" Y/n started. "Work starts in one week... maybe I should start filing my taxes. Get an early start y'know" she obviously redirected her words to distract herself. Michael tilted his head, her thought process clearly confusing him. "Oh I know, I can message Amanda. Haven't talked to her in a while" she sat where the laptop was previously located and opened it. No new messages showed up when she opened Skype. Atleast Amanda would've sent a few. Her profile was active, so

Heeeey girl

She almost gagged sending that. It sounded so fake and forced, so much so that she was about to delete it. Until-

Infamousamanda

-hey girl what's new?

'Fuck my life- why do I do this to myself'

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