A male deer shifter falls madly in love with a female deer shifter. This love soon turns to deadly obsession.
*This is my first attempt at writing a yandere story. You've been warned.
As I walk towards home I take a deep breath for the sixth time in hopes that it will calm my pounding heart. My heart has never pounded this hard, not even when I killed my first deer.
I kinda feel guilty. I mean, I'm a murderer now. A cold blooded killer. I just ended a man's life.
Okay, I need to think of something else. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.
I can't think of anything happy. All I see when I close my eyes is the look of betrayal on Bastion's face when I shot him.
This is fucking stupid! Why do I feel bad?! That man hurt me. I shouldn't feel bad. He deserved it for what he did to me.
Caw! Caw!
"Fuck off you stupid crow! I don't want to hear it right now!" I scream at the bird. It soars ahead of me and lands on a downed tree's stump.
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"What do you want from me? Can't you see that I'm having a moral crisis right now?" I ask. The crow cocks its head to the side and lets out a sort of clicky noise.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this," I say, sitting down on the fallen part of the log. "But I feel bad for killing Bastion. I know it had to be done so I can be free but I still feel bad. You should've seen the look of betrayal on his face when I shot him or the desperate look he had when I raised my gun up to give him the killing blow."
The crow coos in response.
"I think I cared about him just a small bit," I make a tiny gap between my forefinger and my thumb, "that must be why I feel bad." The crow lets out another clicky noise.
"I mean, why else would I feel bad? It's not like I just killed the man who was hopelessly in love me with or anything like that. Ah, that'd be ridiculous." I flick a hand at the bird.
"It's not like he took care of me, made sure I had food, and survived the winter." I bury my face in my hands. My morals are messing with me.
On one hand Bastion did take care of me. But on the other hand he kidnapped me and forced me to rely on him, (which would be the taking care of me part.)
So really, he didn't take care of me. Oh, and I can't forget the part where he broke my hands!
"Crow, I'm a fool. I know he had to die in order for me to be free, but my morals are telling me that I'm nothing but a filthy murderer. Which one is right?" I move my hands and look at the crow.
The crow stares at me before pointing its beak at something behind me.
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