Deep Desire (Yandere! Gang Leader x Reader)

~nine~

Mood: Frustrated, Confused

~~~~~~

It had been a couple of days since your encounter with Enrique, and you were happy that he hadn't come back to visit you. Your mind was still in shock over how he handled things, and you were constantly wondering about why he acted so irrationally. Was he just easily provoked?

"A woman should be put in her place."

The inner feminist in you bubbled up at his words. Who did he think that he was? You were perfectly capable to take care of yourself. Of course, not so much now.

You attempted to continue to exercise after the attack, but because of your newly opened wound, you decided against it. Even though you were stubborn, you agreed with the fact that you wouldn't heal if you kept agitating the injury.

Today, just like the days before, you heard a knock at your door.

"Come in." You said, knowing who it was on the other side.

The door opened and in walked Charles holding your plate of food. He had always been the one to deliver your meal, as promised from before. Interestingly enough, he never really talked to you when he came in. All he would do was check your wound and give you bandages to wrap around your stomach. Though, you never allowed him to do it himself.

All this time, you tried to keep yourself calm, cool, and collected. You had trained for this. You always knew that there was a possibility of this kind of thing happening, but this situation was putting you on edge. Why did he keep you here? What was your significance to him?

Charles placed the food on the nightstand close to your bed.

"Thanks." You mumbled. You didn't like to be polite to your kidnapper, but anything was worth not making him angry. Maybe he had a short fuse, but you weren't wanting to find out.

You grabbed the food and set it on your lap before you began to eat. Unfortunately, instead of hearing the familiar sound of the door shutting, everything stayed completely still and quiet. You looked up from your tray to find Charles staring at you with a stoic, neutral expression.

"... What?" You asked, feeling uneasy.

"Let me check your bandage." He requested. He usually did this, but why was he act so weirdly about it this time around?

You stared at him weirdly for a moment before setting your plate down on the bed and standing up. You didn't enjoy this, but you also didn't want to get on a gang member's bad side.

You lifted up your shirt, avoiding the awkwardness of him doing it himself. You didn't pay attention to his focused look as he unwrapped your bandage, revealing the puss and bits of blood that stained the cloth. The puss was uncomfortable to deal with, but at least you knew that your injury was healing on it's own. As for your bruise, it was beginning to turn brown and yellow, rather than blue and black. Charles traced his finger over the bruise gently, not wanting to cause you more discomfort.

He was angered at Enrique for even thinking that he had the authority to touch you. Though, he understood why he did what he did to some extent. You were not an average woman. You were very blunt, bold, and didn't care to keep your mouth shut. You were very persistent, and that was an absolute no-no in this universe.

In this criminal system, women were seen as secondary people. They were solely only supporters for their husbands, and were to never be involved in the gang directly. They saw women as delicate creatures, but they were also considered 'beneath' them. So, as long as you didn't do anything rebellious and stayed a loving mother and wife, you were good in any man's book.

Obviously, you were going to have to learn that the hard way.

"Are you going to change my bandage or stare at my stomach?" You asked, becoming impatient. Not only was his touch tickling your skin, but it irritated you.

"It needs to be changed again." He replied, making you groan. Honestly, you hated this feeling of vulnerability. Not just because you were being taken care of, but because everything that you did would be hindered by this injury. You couldn't have that if you were to find your way out of this place someday.

Charles got up and exited the room, but you kept your shirt up just below you breasts. You knew that he would be back.

Sure enough, he reentered with a long, white wrap in his hands. He knelt down to be at eye level with the wounds and began to put the bandage around your stomach.

"H-Hey!" What are you doing?!" You yelled, slapping his hands away from you, "I always wrap up myself, so I would appreciate it if I could do it again."

"You don't do a good enough job on your own." He commented, re-positioning the wrap on your stomach only for you to move away from him and pull your shirt down.

"You've taken everything from me." You spat, your eyes full of anger, "So I would appreciate it if you would just let me have my dignity."

"Taken everything from you..." Charles muttered, lifting up your shirt. This allowed him to wrap you up, despite your adamant protests.

Now, blood boiling with his actions, you moved farther back against the bed. You didn't want to feel his confusing touch.

But before you could get out of his reach, he quickly grabbed your wrist and prevented you from moving any farther back. His face held the look of mild frustration and agitation, but he kept his cool for the most part.

"Don't make me restrain you." He threatened, causing you to break into a cold sweat. The thought of Enrique's murderous look came flooding back into your mind, and you decided to heed his warning.

You sighed before lifting up your shirt again and looking away from him. You didn't want to see his smug face in response to you giving in.

He noticed your defeated demeanor and smirked before continuing his unwanted assistance.

"We're going to be having a big day tomorrow." He announced, piquing your interest.

"..What exactly are you planning?" You asked, feeling your chest constrict with anxiety.

"That is a surprise for you to find out first thing in the morning, but I promise that it will be a welcome change from this place." He explained vaguely, frustrating you.

"You know, I don't appreciate your mind games." You mentioned, hissing at the pain that came from the bandage touching your open laceration. He quietly chuckled at your mockery, but continued his action.

"You know, you remind me so much of Camille." He said, his face becoming soft as a small smile graced his lips. You were taken aback by his expression. The last time you saw the two together, they were fighting.

"Does she not visit you anymore?" You asked, curious as to why his behavior changed with the mention of her name.

You could obviously see Charles's smile turn into a frown as he finished up the wrapping. He stood up, which allowed you to pull your shirt back down.

Was he upset? Why now? Why were his emotions so wishy-washy? Nonetheless, you were extremely curious to know the answer to your question. Were they fighting again? Did they make up? Did she move away after the incident?

You had a feeling that you weren't going to get an answer, seeing as Charles was heading towards the door. He didn't want to talk about it, but he kind of blamed himself in a way. He brought it up, after all.

He turned towards you after he had gripped onto the door, allowing a bit of light from the main area to flood in as it was cracked open slightly.

"Camille is dead."

And with that, Charles left the room and shut the door behind him. He always felt so solemn when he thought about her. If only he wouldn't have brought her up.

Meanwhile, you were speechless at his confession. What had happened to her? Who did that to her? When did her dead occur?

Needless to say, you were left with more questions than answers.