Dead By Daylight [OneShots]

Blight X (Sick) Reader

Pain had become an everyday thing for you. You had to accept it, and just as you did with the sour medicine, you just swallowed it down your throat. It was harsh, but there was no point in running away from it. After all, who knew for how long you were trapped in the cursed realm of The Entity.

If only there was a way to fight back, to escape. But in the place where death is not an escape, you knew things were to get worse. You were tired, you were beaten, you were killed. You had experienced anything and everything you could claim to be torturous, both to your form and to your soul.

But if there was one thing that you just couldn't take over, it was you yourself. Your sickness had made it hard to withstand much struggle and trails. Your chest ached, your coughing got worse with time. It was to the point that you couldn't move without needing to stop, hunch over when running for long, and especially, to stop and take a breath, especially coughing loudly.

It was clear to see why survivors didn't want to be around you. The need to survive, to live, often brought the worst out of all. It wasn't infection, but fear. Fear was contagious, just as disease was. Your coughing was always so loud it got others on the edge. They were more willing to leave you behind or throw you aside for a bait than aid you.

Poor Claudette wasn't skilled enough to find a cure to your sickness. All she could do was to clean and conceal your wounds.

But could you blame them? No.

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Disease...you just hated the word. You couldn't stand the feeling of sickness taking over you. You wanted to survive, you wanted to live, you wanted to live to the fullest, but sickness...it held you back against your will. And the worst part was not how helpless you felt, but even after your will to fight it, you just didn't know how. You felt it, it was inside you, it taunted you, and yet, you didn't know it.

You were vulnerable against yourself, more than the killers.

It irritated you. What the killers didn't know was that your fight against them wasn't your hatred for them, which was apparent for some, but it was you. You despised yourself for being so weak. You had never felt so hopeless in your life, and you were just waiting for that one chance when you could get rid of it.

But when?

"Stop daydreaming and do something?!" Nea yelled, pushing you aside as she worked on the gen.

Her bitchy attitude was getting on your nerves lately, but what could you do? If only you were in possession of your full strength, you would have had done something.

"Thinking of showing me my place?" She taunted you, tugging on your sleeve, demanding attention just like any other time. You huffed as you slapped her hand away hardly. You weren't there for that bullshit at all.

"I don't need to. You are already in the place you belong."

Her eyes narrowed at you briefly, but she dared not to speak. You didn't dislike her too much to provoke a fight, but occasionally the look of despair and longing for home made you feel bad, and nostalgic. Just like anyone else, she wanted to go back home.

You turned away from her as you searched the chest quietly, finding a toolbox worth nothing. Not for you, you were better off staying away from survivors. You put the toolbox near Nea, walking away, clutching your side. It wasn't going unnoticed.

"Are you really that desperate to get killed?" She asked, agitated as usual, "Not my fault that you look like shit. Plague ain't got anything on you, didn't she?"