.。*♡ Witness Pt. 2 .。*♡

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word count: 990

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LeRoy was out of the apartment when y/n and Aliyah arrived. Since it was a Thursday, he was probably out with one of those perverts he considered friends, ready to get hammered and into a fist fight and snore it off on her couch all over again. Every day was the same, though at least the living room didn't reek of cigarettes.

The couch was surrounded with strewn pillows and plastic bottles of water from last night's episode. Y/n's eyes went to the coffee table, now having a chip on one of the corners that hadn't been there until recently as well. Subconsciously, she rubbed at that persistently aching red mark on her leg.

"Your auntie should be coming to pick you up in about an hour, m'kay Miss Aliyah?" Y/n began to collect the bottles, shoveling them into a halfway decent pile. Already growing hot from the stuffy room, she removed her jacket, tossing it to the side.

She spent another few minutes straightening up the pillows and readjusting the table. As she bent down to retrieve a stray bottle cap, y/n felt a small finger poke a rather sensitive spot on her back. Just from the sting, she new when it had happened, that it was still fresh, and it was LeRoy's doing.

There came that small nag in her head. Writhing it's way into her mind. Actually- she corrected herself- it had been her fault, she had been the one to fall... after he shoved her-

"What's that?" Aliyah questioned, tracing the reddened flesh.

Y/n stiffened. "I fell."

The little girl cringed, like she was reenacting the imagined accident in her head. Her hand retracted. "Ouch. You must fall a lot, y/n."

Y/n frowned, craning her neck to the now sitting girl.

"Why d'you say that?"

"'Cuz," Aliyah giggled, arms in her lap. "Everytime I see you it's like you always got new scars."

Y/n's blood ran cold, the weighted fear and embarrassment crashing down on her like a wave of panic.

"Ah."

"You should be more careful where you step!"

She should, shouldn't she? The woman stood from where she collected the bottles, her face now sunken and greyed. Slowly, she grabbed her jacket and pulled it on, ignoring how her sweat covered skin stuck to the windbreaker's material. She could tough it out. Her back was still to Aliyah, giving her a moment to twist her features into something more cheerful.

As y/n lifted her gaze, she caught a glimpse of that stupid chipped coffee table. Blood- her own- though it was a small spittle- stained the broken piece. It wouldn't come out no matter how hard she scrubbed. Her mind flooded with the fantasy of screaming maniacally while splintering the fucking thing to pieces, preferably with LeRoy in line of target (how gruesome), bashing the legs against his bloody skull. But she couldn't. Oh no, no, no. She could almost feel his warm breath tickling her chest as he helped her up from his own destruction. His words echoed in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Such a despicable thought, y/n. Where had his little angel gone?

Y/n shunned herself for even daring to fantasize about something so terrible. Had she always been the villain?

The poor woman glanced to the little girl. It shocked her to think that she was of his own kind. Aliyah's eyes were still on her now covered back. Y/n could say it was LeRoy and that she wasn't a fucking clutz. That her brother had a hold on her that wasn't natural. The urge to scream the truth was so delicious, yet her lips stayed shut.

"Smile for me baby. It didn't hurt you that much, did it?"

She turned around. That girl- she held his features. Those dewy eyes and those high cheekbones. That smooth, brown skin. It drove her mad! The urge to scream in the child's face tickled her heart, but when had she ever gave in to what she wanted?

"Y/n?" Aliyah prompted.

She regained her composure. She closed her eyes, matching it with that stupid grin LeRoy loved to see.

"Yeah, I'll be careful next time."

Help. Me.

Help me...

Help me..

HELP ME.

Y/n felt herself be shaken awake, her throat sore from shouting words she couldn't recall while deep in slumber. E/c eyes widened as she swiveled her head around the room on edge. There was no blood stained coffee table, nor any sign that LeRoy was here. Her breath shuddered as she tried to control her breathing. She was in Tokyo, he was in Los Angeles. She was safe.

"Y/n..."

Lifting a shaky finger to her face, her skin was covered in a layer of dewy sweat and her brow was soaked with perspiration. Her breath hitched as she regained her thoughts, her consciousness now pulling her back into reality. Someone was holding her.

"Y/n?" Satoru repeated for the hundredth time, his tone laced with concern.

One arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other cradled her head against his lean chest. His fingers themselves shook, like he was unsure that what he was doing was right. His pale arms held bright red claw marks from her uncontrollable thrashing, yet it seemed he never let go. Oh, Satoru.

Her foggy head turned to the bronze analog clock on the wall. It was eight thirty, and he was still here by her side.

Hearing the amount of fear in Gojo's voice pricked the woman's eyes. She worried him all too much with these constant echoes of her past that she couldn't quite seem to escape no matter how hard she tried. When would the nightmares end?

Y/n began to sob.

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<a/n: this chapter hurt to write :( >

update: i added more to this chapter

more angst? i think yes

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 (𝓖𝓸𝓳𝓸 𝔁 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻)Where stories live. Discover now