Reader X Microwave 🤩

BSD stormbringer IRL

11 months. That's how long it's been since I smashed Microwave-Chan to bits with a mallet, and watched it shatter in front of me. Since then, I've reclaimed my identity as myself, gotten my friends back, and fixed all the mistakes Microwave-Chan made while impersonating me. It was hard, but I got through.

Life has been decent since then, I got an actual girlfriend, a job, I have some new friends, even though I look in the mirror and hate myself everyday because I murdered something with sentience and I'll never get over it. I mean, who wouldn't? It's like breaking up with your first girlfriend even though she was toxic, like you miss her but at the same time, good riddance! 

...

I feel empty. I don't feel like myself anymore. Maybe it's not because of losing of Microwave-Chan and her delicious unflavored reheating abilities, maybe it's just that I used to rely on what others thought I was, but when Microwave-Chan came along, I had to really think about who I was. To re-befriend my old friends, I had to act as I used to. 

But, Microwave-Chan has been gone for almost a year, so maybe I should let go. 

Wait, if she's been gone for a year,

Can someone please tell me why there's a Microwave outside my fucking window?

I look outside the window. There, sitting on my little flower shelf facing outside, is a Microwave, Walmart styled, that looks exactly like my dear old Microwave-Chan. It can't be. Maybe someone's playing a cruel prank? Maybe I'm dreaming and I should just punch myself awake? There's no way. I saw Microwave-Chan's "corpse", shattered glass and destroyed metal, broken wiring with a warm atmosphere emitting from around it. I looked at with regret, tears swelling in my eyes, holding a mallet displaying no evidence of a murder. In my room, a desolate messy place, the first thing I've fallen in love with in pieces in front of me. I didn't leave my room for days, so long my parents had to check up on me. It was horrible, traumatizing. Maybe my brain wanted to punish me for my guilt, so it's making me see things, like Microwave-Chan on my desk-

Wait

What the ever-living hell?.

It was just on my windowsill. Why did it move. How did it move. Actually, I don't need to know that. Why question it now when it's moved by itself a million times before? 

I stand up from my bed and begin navigating a dull, desolate, mundane room, with dirty laundry and tissue paper scattered upon the carpeted floors. It was a mess, but I haven't had energy at all to clean it. I walked over to it, making sure not to step on anything of value, and examined it. 

Not a scratch on it.

Not a single fucking scratch.

You've gotta be kidding me. 

I opened the door. No squeaking. I looked at the back, the back looked the exact same. There's not a single crack in the windows. It was almost it perfect condition.

Except for one thing.

As a little kid, I was decently energetic. I would run around my home like I was a marathon runner, climbing and jumping. One day, though, I was talking with friends, laughing, having fun. I stared at one of my friends when suddenly,

BAM!

I ran into the counter. My head was bleeding, I was crying, and my mom quickly rushed over to comfort me. I wasn't the only thing scratched and bruised. Our microwave had taken an injury too, a little small dent in the side. Almost unnoticeable if you aren't paying attention. And, surprise surprise,

That microwave was Microwave-Chan.

Now, in my mess of a room, in the exact same spot, there laid an nearly unnoticeable dent, exactly resembling the one I had created with my big, dense head, on the microwave's side. This was Microwave-Chan. She was there, in front of me. Even after I destroyed her and my life. Maybe this is a chance to begin anew w-

No. That's stupid. She tried ruining my life, haunted me, terrified me. I could never. I closed my eyes and sighed. I was going to walk back to my bed when-

"WHAT THE FUCK."

She was gone again. Nowhere im my room. I looked under the heaps on stuff i've stashed, with no luck. 

Shit.

I ran downstairs, nearly tripping over myself, and trashed my home, looking for a sign that there was a loose microwave. I looked in drawers, on counters, behind the couch, under the couch, inside the cou-

I ran around my house like a hyper dog, trying to find any evidence she was there. Had I hallucinated it all? Maybe my original thoughts were correct? Maybe it really was a guilty hallucination, like someone who thinks every time they're summon to the police station they're there because them murdering two people with an axe had come to light. Apparently me rushing around my house alerted my sister, who came downstairs to ask me what was wrong. I knew that if I said anything about what I had saw, what happened a year ago, and me falling in love with the microwave, I'd be admitted to a mental hospital or she'd think I'm delusional. So, I just said I lost my house keys. My sister laughed, chastised me, and headed back up the stairs. 

I decided to give up because I had spent about 3 hours searching for that microwave, and call it a day. I headed up stairs, but as I reached the door,

The power went out.

Beeeeeppppppp

brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The sound of a microwave echoed through my home.