A Rose Painted Black || The Distortionist x Reader

⊱ ──.⋅Chapter 22⋅.── ⊰

"Oh my love, we'll meet again
We always do in the end"

»»-------Blackbriar-Until Eternity-------««

31 July

I opened my eyes. Looking up at the ceiling, and feeling the comfort of my bed, realizing I was in my room. I felt well-rested and as if I'd been sleeping forever. How my room was so bright, and how the sheer white curtain shuddered softly like a specter indeed made it feel like I was in that cloud castle in the sky. 

That pleasantness only lasted a couple of seconds until the pain of a headache and slight pain in my abdomen sprouted. I put my hand to my head to feel bandages. I sat up a bit just enough to not disturb the pain and found a sleeping (S/n) and (B/n) on chairs at my bedside. I eyed them curiously and how their heads came down slowly from dozing off and then would wake up, startled, attempting their best at staying awake. (S/n) brought a hand up to rub her eyes, stopping midway to catch my stare.

"(Y/n)!" she cheered. "You're awake; I thought you would sleep forever!" 

"(Y/n)!" (B/n) follows, jumping down from the chair, taking some steps closer to me, but then stopping.

Something wasn't right here. Had something taken place? "Wait, what happened exactly?"

"You...don't remember?" I shook my head and she leaned closer. "You were in a fire, in the funhouse... You really don't remember?"

Flashes of burning red and screams and yells filled my head. It hurt to think about it all. "Oh," was all I said.

"I must tell the others," (S/n) slipped out before getting up from the chair and exiting the room with (B/n).

Tell the others? Was it Chris and the others? It had to be. With some difficulty, I fully sat up and the door opened agonizingly slow. In came (S/n), (B/n), a doctor, and...my parents. I clutch the thin cover.

"(Y/n) (L/n), right?" The doctor started and I nodded. "How do you feel, Miss (L/n)?"

"I feel,"—I take a quick glance at my parents who stand like observing statues at the foot of my bed—"fine."

The doctor set down his medical bag on the nightstand. He took out his stethoscope and the room was quiet as he listened to my heartbeat. He carefully unties the bandage on my head, and I see a small amount of blood. The familiar smell, and stinging, and whatever small injury that is on my forehead is bandaged again.

"A marvel that you suffered no burns, Miss (L/n), but I worry you had been heavily exposed to the smoke. Are you experiencing any chest discomfort?" he asks.

"No, I don't feel any discomfort other than the injury on my head," I disclosed, but really I felt myself getting weak by the minute. If I closed my eyes now I felt like I would instantly fall into a deep slumber.

He gathered the few things he had taken out, and grabbed his leather bag again, then walked over to my parents.

"If anything else occurs, Mr. and Mrs. (L/n), do not hesitate to contact my office. Your daughter will be just fine, she needs rest, and be sure she takes it easy for a few days, and she shouldn't smoke or be exposed to smoke secondhand awhile." He puts his bowler hat back on, and Father decides to walk him out. 

I listen to their footsteps that get quieter and quieter, bring my gaze down, and suddenly find a loose thread on the bedsheet as the most interesting thing, and then gulp. Anything to distract me from the silence that followed.

"I'm glad you're okay!" (B/n) says, giving me a tight hug, void of the actual seriousness in the room.

"Thank you," I say, squeezing him lightly and dismissing that he was hurting me. He returns to the lingering (S/n) and holds her hand. She could have been trying to help me, to stall what would happen next, but mother gave her a look and now (S/n) knew she was helpless. At the door, she glances back at me with a clueless (B/n) and I give a small smile to reassure her. She returns an exhausted smile and gets out of the room, closing the door.

Feeling mama's intense gaze, I keep my gaze low. I feel myself shrink into the girl I was four weeks ago--more timid and compliant in nature.

I had sought and found adventure, at least that's what I'd call it. Going there was a break from everything. Finding myself in unusual and exciting situations, sometimes perilous, but that made it all the better. I made the most peculiar friends, managed to find someone, problematic, but I had been charmed by the gallant nature I had seen in him. 

I looked at mama again, she did appear angered, but her eyebrows were slanted, not furrowed, and the sides of her lips tugged down.

"I trusted you these two weeks, dear," she starts, softly. How long until she'd raise her voice? "Well, your father and I. It's no longer even about how you kept going to the Carnival despite us telling you otherwise, or how you'd sneak out, be there during ungodly hours, and at times nearly for a whole day. Not the impression you leave for your siblings. Not even about how several individuals came to the meeting and informed us of our unruly daughter." There, the softness started to cease. "It's about how easily you nearly managed to get yourself killed!"

In my head, I thought about all the other times I had been so close to Death that I could feel him grab my hands and be ready to pull me in if anything were to happen. "Mama, I--"

"No, (Y/n), just listen for now, please!" It's like mama was in between lashing out in anger and crying out. "I'd never been so scared before, and your father was right. Maybe the way I've been trying to raise all of you is all wrong. I tried to mix his high-class values with my own third-class ones, hoping I could create a better, easier environment for you to grow up in, but it only ended up turning you reckless."

"...Mama, I'm sorry."

She ignored me. "I realize now that I know nothing about properly raising a girl in your position. Your father and I have come to the decision that we will be sending you to a girls' college and finishing school."

"College, finishing school, but mama!" I couldn't be sent away. I had to, I had to go back to the carnival. They were still here, I had to confirm with them, even if once more before I'm bound to this place for the next weeks. I grabbed my blankets, ready to throw them off. No, nothing will happen, nothing to them or me, and I will not be sent away now. I had to go back.

"We trusted you, and this was your response, (Y/n). You were so careless of yourself. This is for the better, dear, and I believe it's the best solution," mother asserts and it quickly processes in my head.

I clutch my bedspread even tighter, glaring at her.

"We'll say no more about it," she says, walking over to the door, but when she exits she leaves it partly open.

I don't even mind the annoyance anymore, I was going out anyway.

I get out of my bed. Leaving anything behind, ignoring the weakness in my legs, I run. Out of the door, ignoring mama's yells of my name. Through the halls with the cold floor, through the never-ending stairs, then finally outside. Not stopping, going right into the trees.

Running as if someone were after me as if I had to run to save my life. Which felt like it was exactly what I was doing. I felt both utterly foolish and astounded in the way I kept going. My mind flipped from thoughts of not understanding why I wanted this so badly, but then recalling. The better memories stand out to me then, just as they usually do, and as other memories are repressed.

New cuts and scratches from the sharp branches join the skin of my legs. My body was so very weak, I could feel it. If I stopped now, I'd collapse and never get up again. Therefore, I'd keep going.

I've got to be near, I've got to be near! Is what I repeat to myself. My chest burns, my head pounds. I have never run so fast in my life.

I see the peek of green grass, and I almost release a shriek through gritted teeth by how near it really was, but my body gave the impression that it was still so distant. The final roots of trees and I tumble to the grass on my knees. My hands touch the dampness of the field as I struggle to grasp my breath.

My chest burning, I sit up. Stopping right when I see it.

The carnival, it's no longer there. Nothing, but the extent of grass in waves from the light breeze in its sight.

It is gone.

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