Corruption (Yandere Various x Reader)

Yandere Joker! x Reader / Run away/

A/N: Salutations to all of you. It probably comes to a surprise to you folks that instead of having to wait an eternity for the next story it is already here after two weeks. Let's just say that writing is a nice gap filler for time spent in boarding school and this time I'm doing my best to stick to my schedule. Just a short reminder: Requests are still open! Requested by @Risu_Tsuki

Hastily you jerked away from the work you are doing, remaining paralysed in order to strain your ears. For a moment you thought you heard the tell-tale clacking of prosthetics. There was nothing, except the cheer of the audience and the circus music from outside; and your shallow breathing and thumping heart. The brief instance of high-jacked focus was a testament to how frantic you had become and how desperate you were in your current endeavour.

It was unbelievable how difficult the lock was to pick and that was saying something in relation to your skill and long experience. Was it the stress that was gnawing at your nerves to blame or were the mechanisms simply to rusty? Joker always unlocked it with ease, so you've probably grown feeble. Frustration bubbles in your gut, echoing the poisonous thoughts in your head.

...It's all your fault that you are chained up, that you allowed yourself to be tricked, to be...

You've never hated yourself more.

The iron has a tight grip on your wrist, cutting of circulation and making your step to freedom all the more difficult. Way does an image of a wolf pop in your mind, feral and hungry with jaws clamped around your bent wrist with teeth digging in your flesh? When will the animal go for your neck?

Metal having chafed at your skin for far to long you started to bleed. The red that seeps out from under the manacle seems to be accusing you, showing you that it was your own fault and if you had left your arms outstretched that your skin marred, stained of your own doing.

Biting back the pain you spit out a slew of curses for which your mother would've slapped you, as your fingers ache and burn as well to your chagrin. With one last turn of your utensil a click could be heard, and the chain fell to the ground with a clatter. You tossed the broken hair-pin aside and inspected and prodded the bleeding and tender skin. In disregard for your health, you quickly remind yourself of the bigger dilemma you gather a few bearings in an improvised bag along with some of the food and liquor the ringleader tended to leave strewn across his living quarters.

Everything was done in haste, your panting filling the roomy tent and your pounding heart as loud as thunder in your ears. Desperate, you ignored that it was actually ghastly to stoop to such lows and stole some of the coins on the table; in your nervousness you dropped them a few times. Surging with anxiety you glanced around, contemplating if you ought to snag something else while you were at it. With nothing more needed you grabbed your shoes you fled the accommodations, not wanting to spend a second longer than necessary.

Too long had you been held prisoner in there, by a man you had thought you could trust. So deceiving impressions could be, who could you trust anyway? Nobody was worth such an investment and you would only and always have yourself in the end.

You should practise what you preach.

The better consideration would be when had you become so cynical. Of course that matter didn't come to mind. Months had melted away the woe-ridden but optimistic person that had ran away from home to join the circus.

The real world is no place for children.

Now you were an adult and you'd unabashedly claim you were an adult, having matured and become worldly. Facing what you've had you have all the right to claim such a thing, or not?