฿Ⱡł₦Đ ⱠØVɆ | William Afton x Reader

₵Ⱨ₳₱₮ɆⱤ 17

(HAPPY HOLIDAYS TODAY YOU GET WILLIAM'S POV FOR A COUPLE CHAPTERS!!! The normal POV will be back soon dw ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

(TRIGGER WARNING - DETAILED INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS ABOUT MURDER, DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF GETTING CUT, OVERALL CREEPY/DISTURBED THOUGHTS - IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ)

     I leaned silently against the side of an arcade machine. 

     If I wasn't in my office, which I usually was, I'd be in the arcade. I didn't like the ambiance of the place, though. It was much louder than I would have preferred. 

     ... 

     But, after all, I helped design it that way on purpose. Sometimes the dizzy, deafening illusion of an arcade full of beeping machines could be quite distracting. That was the point. It gave me an advantage. 

     No one would notice one child missing in a room full of them. 

     I crossed my arms and scanned the area. Y/N was no where to be found. Nicole and Anthony didn't happen to be nearby either. I could see some staff in the corner farthest from me, though, and took note of that. 

     Suddenly, I was distracted. A group of kids ran by, presumably in a game of tag. 

     They were easy to miss when you were as tall as me, but they could be hard to ignore when they were screaming. 

     My nails dug painfully into my arms. 

     They were so aggravating. I hated them. I hated them with every ounce of my being, and what was worse is that I had been repressing my true thoughts for weeks. 

     I wanted to injure them, wanted to hurt them so badly, but something was holding me back.

     Y/N. 

     Ever since she had been hired as my assistant, I hadn't been able to get a second away. It wasn't that I disliked her, it was just that I had overwhelming bloodlust, and it was being bottled up. My need seemed to grow by the second, and Y/N still managed to distract me from it.

     The screaming group of children went for another go around the path, and they passed by me once more. 

     This time, though, a little girl lacked behind. She soon fell on the carpeted path, her knees skidding on it and bringing her body weight with them. 

     Here it comes. I thought. 

     Within two seconds the child was screaming. Her shrieks were high-pitched and pain-filled. I could feel one of my bottom lids twitch. 

     I could make her silent. I thought as my pupils dilated. I could make her silent forever and nobody would ever suspect me. 

     I glanced down at my arms; I had been gripping them without realizing it. My knuckles were turning white and I was starting to tremble, so I loosened up a bit. 

     Meanwhile, the girl was still screaming, and none of her friends had doubled back to help her. She was alone and vulnerable. 

     Vulnerable to me. 

     I smirked to myself at her damaged state. I had the ability to damage her so much more. It was too tempting. 

     No. I can't. Not today; not on impulse. 

     My breathing quickened, and I abandoned the child where she sat toppled over. 

     I have to be alone. I thought. I never let my demeanor falter in front of others. Doing that could fuck me over more than anything. 

     I shivered as I walked briskly down the halls, a bead of sweat dripping slowly off of my forehead. I soon reached my office and opened the door hastily. 

     My anxiety had only been building on the way there; I slammed the door closed to cut myself off from the rest of the world. 

     Only then could I indulge. 

     Fuck. I can't. I want to slit the girl's throat. I can just imagine the blood draining out - watching her eyes go lifeless. Death is euphoria. But I can't. I feel like I'm being held back. 

     "I need to kill someone," I whispered, staring at the ground as I slid my back down the door behind me. I took a deep breath. 

     "Fuck, I want to murder all of them. Every last one." I chuckled. "It's going to be so good when I finally get the chance to." 

     I blinked, starting to regain my sanity. 

     I stood up and straightened my uniform before going to sit down. My hand reached up to ruffle my own hair as I busied myself with paperwork. 

     I studied the pages on my desk. Property bills, potential lawsuits, legal requirements... 

     "All rubbish," I muttered, twirling a pen in my fingers. Abruptly, I cut the action short, clicking the pen. I watched its small metal tip poke up on the top, and a grin appeared on my lips.

     Rubbish. Y/N would make fun of me for saying something like that. 'Authentically British,' is what she'd say. 

     I brought the back end of the pen to my lips and bit on it mindlessly. 

     Y/N. 

     Memories of the previous morning came back to me when the name manifested in my head. I lifted my right hand off of the desk and studied it for a moment. 

     The scar there was still fresh; it had started to scab over. The poor wound wanted to cover up, wanted to heal... But I wouldn't let it. 

     Without thinking, I brought the pen tip down on my palm. I traced the cut delicately and licked my lips. 

     Then I pushed down. Hard.

     The inky tip split painfully down the closing cut like a seam ripper on a thread, leaving a bloody trail behind it. 

     "Ah-" I gasped. 

     I let the pen fall to my desk, my lips slowly twisting into a smirk. 

     The blood was dripping down my wrist. I licked it off. 

     The metallic taste spread over my taste buds - it stung in a way. I liked it - no - loved it. It was delicious.

     I zoned out, about to go in for another lick, but I was interrupted. Someone was knocking on the door. 

     I almost panicked; I had been ripped out of my reverie. 

     I hastily wiped away the rest of the blood with a tissue before tossing it in the trash. A breath escaped my lips as I tried to collect myself, my foot tapping anxiously under the desk.

     "Come in," I called.