Dead by Daylight One Shots

Shape x Fem!Sickly!Reader

I couldn't breathe...

No, really—I wasn't breathing!

The Shape moved slowly over to where I laid, struggling to stay alive even without his help. I wheezed out and heaved, my face turning blue. My shaky hand reached for my arm, blood spilling fast. As the Shape came closer, the tv illuminated his hulking frame. My eyes blurred and everything began to fade to black. But through the dark living room and the weak tv and my fuzzy eyes, I noticed something. Upon further inspection, the Shape wasn't in good nick either. A huge bloodstain was fresh against his blue overalls, making them look wet and black.

The Shape lifted his knife weakly, preparing to thrust it down into me. A final guttural wheeze left my lips as I accepted my fate. But instead, the man before me dropped the knife. It hit the floor, little sprits of blood sprinkling onto my pyjamas. I heard a groan from behind the man's mask, then he collapsed. He laid there next to me, not moving a muscle. One last deep exhale left him, his chest falling with it delicately.

All was still.

I gulped at the air and sputtered as it finally flowed to my lungs. I flopped on the floor like a fish and gasped for as much oxygen I possibly could get.

Breathe. I thought.

Just breathe again.

When I caught my breath, I scrambled to my feet. My frail body teetered slightly as I tried to keep upright.

"Ugh...!" I groaned out.

I looked down at my skinny arm to see it stained red. I staggered into the kitchen and flicked the light on. I threw myself over to the drawer and yanked it open. I frantically dug through it to fish out a roll of bandages. I wrapped it around and around my arm until it was on thick. I pulled the bandage with my teeth until it was tight on my arm. After I stopped the bleeding, my mind wandered back to the man that laid in my living room. I turned to the drawer again, this time pulling out a knife. A shaky breath left me as I gripped hard onto the handle.

I crept into the living room, knife ready to strike. The Shape laid flat on his back near the coffee table, the tv playing in the background. I snuck over to him silently and loomed over his wounded body. The blood on his jumpsuit was illuminated by the tv and the moon that peaked through the window. It was glossy and dark in the dim lighting. I also noticed the three small holes in the fabric where the blood was coming from.

Bullet wounds.

I gasped quietly. Three police cars went zooming past the window before I could even process. Sirens blared and painted Lampkin Lane with reds and blues. I winced at the loud and colourful noises, hoping they didn't awake my little 'visitor'. But when I looked over to where the Shape laid on the floor, he did not stir. A million thoughts flooded my mind. What was I to do now? The police were going the wrong way, first of all. Little did they know the Shape was safe and sound here in my own home. That was probably why he chose this place. The Shape must've given my house one look and thought that it was abandoned. That was fair.

I went back to the kitchen to call the police. My hand ghosted over the telephone, but then a wave of uncertainty hit me. I glanced over my shoulder at the Shape in the other room. His blood was leaking down his chest and onto my living room floor. I moved my hand away from the phone and placed it back at my side. No... I couldn't call them yet. This man could die! He could die in my house! I didn't want that. I dropped the knife I was holding onto the counter importantly. I whipped around to grab the bandages I had and went back to the Shape.

I knelt down at the man's side and examined his wounds. I carefully moved his jumpsuit off of his shoulders and yanked it down. Three bullet wounds in his lower abdomen. And yet, here he laid with a chest that rose and fell with each breath. How on earth was he still alive? It didn't matter, all I needed to do was stop the bleeding. Couldn't of been too hard. I had to do that to myself everyday anyway. It was a tedious job. I could barely lift the Shape up to wrap the bandages around him. I was a sick woman, getting weaker by the day. But when his wounds were no longer gushing blood everywhere, I knew I had done well.