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Contents: 1994! Jonathan Davis x reader (tag empty asf), HEAVY mentions of s*xual and mental ab*se, friends to lovers, TONS of fluff, angst, insane amounts of GORE, very violent language, violence, drug and alcohol use, etc.
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~~find my nest full of salt...everything's my fault...~~
Kurt Cobain soothed my weary mind as I lugged my last load down interstate 110, trying not to pass out at the steering wheel. I dreamed of starting my two-week winter break with a sweet night at Wes's, an underground bar below a gas station that sold inexpensive but effective products, my favorite kind. I was in desperate need of a cigarette, just like after any long busy day of trucking. Once I got to the designated location, I heaved off the supplies and signed a few papers. Once I got back in my truck, I sighed in relief. I would have the next two weeks off for winter break. All that was left to do was to go to Wes's and drink the night away. Once I arrived at Wes's through a rough, snowy highway, I filled my truck with gas, parked it in a safe spot, and stopped under the store's awning to look at the snowy night sky. It was strangely beautiful to me, even though it was pitch-black under the streetlamps. I suddenly remembered this was the weekly night that hillbilly Joe Singleton and his wife go on a frenzy of religious insanity. I wanted to kill them both, so I avoided them to keep myself from doing so. I quickly ran inside when I heard their radio blasting behind me. I grabbed a Heath bar from the shelf near me and made my way to the register, waving to the cashier, my best friend, Mikey.
"Damn y/n, you runnin' from the devil or sumn'?" Mikey asked, slightly concerned.
"Yeah, man. Joe and Monica came here to unleash hell." I whispered, keeping an eye out for them.
Mikey leaned forward on locked arms.
"Don't worry about it so much, Y/N. They dumber than rats on PCP."
Mikey knew about my anxiety. He never failed to help me calm down with his humor. He's always been my human antidepressant ever since we were teenagers.
"They came in here earlier today bitchin' at me because we sell pot here." Mikey laughed, putting on his red baseball cap.
Mikey did a typical redneck pose and stuck a rolled-up receipt in his mouth,
"And-And they was all like-"
Mikey slammed his fist down onto the table, a mocking look of disgust.
"YOUSE ALL GOIN' STRAIGHT TO HELL WITH YOUR DEVIL HIPPIE SHIT!!! GOD CAINT STAND FOLK LIKE YOU!!!"
I cracked up laughing, my nerves disappearing mostly.
"Man, when will they accept that the Aryan race isn't a thing anymore!" I laughed, leaning forward on the counter.
That's when Mikey burst out into laughter, playfully slapping me.
"Jesus Christ Y/N..." He wheezed, unable to keep a straight face for even a quarter of a second.
While our laughing fit was happening, we didn't notice Joe and his whore wife hearing our conversation. Joe threw a dime at me to get my attention. My smile instantly faded. Mikey cussed under his breath. We both turned to face the two cunts. They looked as aggravating as ever.
"You two won't be sayin' that shit in the lake of fire, imma tell you that!" Joe snapped, stepping towards us.
Mikey looked like he was about to commit mass homicide.
"Great! I'll see you two there, cocksuckers!" Mikey fumed, flipping Joe the bird.
Joe lunged at Mikey, to which I responded by kicking him in the stomach, making him fall to the floor. Mikey jumped over the counter and started beating the living hell out of Joe while the whore made a beeline for me. I tackled her down and repeatedly punched her with all my might, forcing an annoying squeal out of her. It was the best I had felt in a long time since she reminded me of my mother. It was like I was trying to kill my past. Mikey held off Joe while I got up and stomped on the whore's face repeatedly, blood starting to ooze from her annoying nose. I was laughing while the whore screamed in pain, unable to fight me off. I got back onto her and plunged my fingers down her throat, thrusting them in and out at an inhumane pace until she started vomiting on herself. Nearly screaming with maniacal laughter, I took my vomit-ridden fingers and plunged them back into her throat, making her swallow her vomit. My elbow plummeted to her face, her eye exploding into seeping red. All the memories of her groping Mikey, aiding my mom in assaulting me, stealing my cigarettes, and reminding me of my mother fueled my primal rage while I beat her senseless. I felt like I was taking revenge on my mother; a wave of utter bliss and satisfaction washed over me, causing me to burst out in shrieking laughter before plunging my fingers into her eyes. She burst into tears and screaming when I fingered her eye sockets like my mother did when my brother broke her glasses. Blood spurted out of her eyes and onto my cheek, my maniacal shrieks only getting louder.
