ABUSE | yandere yuri plisetsky

one ; he and she

her pov

Straight up— it was another day of fall and all these damn leaves are beginning to get annoying yet again.

"You're going outside?" asked my mother. "Now that's what we call a miracle."

"Uh, I need to drop by Bryce's for a bit. Bio project," I lied.

"Bryce? A guy?" she responded under suspicion. "Huh. Be careful, Jane."

"Bryce isn't a rapist," I rolled my eyes, taking out my phone as I messaged my friends. "What do you guys have tonight?"

"Wine, legit wine stolen by minors!" replied one.

"We got them shoplifting skills. How bow dah." commented another.

I laughed. Yes, I should probably be a rebel now.

I'm sick of the same old rules anyway, being all goody-two-shoes just so my parents won't scold me.

Nonsense rules. "You're all crazy. Otw."

I grabbed my bike and plugged in my earphones. Short trip, huh— no one is actually around with all their pollution machines.

Gotta speed this up, I think to myself as the addicting beats of Bruno Mars hit my ears.

Lucky for you that's what I like, that's what I like—

"Ow!"

Ow? The fuck? Who was that?

I looked right in front of me and saw someone of blonde hair and sharp, green eyes— he looked familiar, but fuck that.

He stood up, staring at me as he pierced my soul with the dark purity of his look. "Next time, watch where you're going."

And as he left, I just—

Who was that? The moment I saw through his eyes I knew he was gonna be part of me. My life.

But how, and why?

Is he actually going to play a role in my life? Should I know him or just leave it like this? Maybe I should have asked for his name?

The flood of thoughts given by a stranger eventually masked up the song's beat and my own consciousness— and before I knew it, I was riding on Camia Street— where Bryce's home is.

"Jane, my bitch!" welcomed the bad influences whom I continue to hang out with. "Have a glass, pal! It isn't that strong."

"Sophomores like us should be enjoyin' all these shit!" shouted another as she blasted music off the speakers. "Right, Yuri? Come on, don't be a killjoy! Dance!"

My ears perk up after hearing that one sentence. I whisper to her, "Hey, who's Yuri? I thought it was only the squad?"

"Oh, right!" snapped my friend— turning the music down so suddenly that all my friends looked at our direction.

Funny. And just then, there was the instant silence.

"Yuri, meet Jane. Jane, this is Yuri."

I spotted a guy my age sitting next to her— someone of blonde hair and sharp, green eyes— he looked familiar, but now the thoughts triggered me as I say to myself,

"Oh, shit."