Hell On Wheels { Yandere! Christine x Depressed! Fem! reader}

Chapter 2

  ~Y/n's POV~

        I woke up, dried tears on my cheeks, and blurry eyes scanning the wheel in front of me. I was elevated a lot more than I thought I was before.

"Oh yeah," I croaked. "I got in this car."

       I rubbed my eyes and looked about, it was nicely kept for it to be stranded--but how did it turn on its headlights when nobody is driving it? Was it a self-operating car?

      I sucked in a deep breath, yawning, and gazed out the window only to furrow my eyes in confusion.

"How in the hell?" I gasped, scanning the structure I was parked in for any sign of life--but there was none to be seen.

    I jolted when the car whirred to life, my frantic eyes landed on the keyhole--there wasn't a key and I wasn't even fucking driving it.

My eyes snapped up when I heard metal scrape against the pavement, the doors were opening--

I reached over towards the handle, instantly the pull-lock shot down. Locking it.

"What?" I thinned my lips. "Is this a self-driving car or what? Are we even able to make that?"

"N-o."

I shrieked, falling back in the seat--my eyes watching the flickering radio as it flipped through channels.

"Y-oU A-rE my dr-I-vEr."

"What do you mean driver? Where are we going?"

"W-e are H-Ome." the radio fizzed up upon entering the building. "A-nd You're my d-riVer."

I wet my lips, attempting to calm my heart--but it failed as soon as the radio started to talk again.

"M-y Name's C-hRIstiNe." The radio blared. "Y-Our NaM-e?"

I sucked in a sharp breath and shakily said, "I-I'm Y/n...So, uh, how are you talking?"

"R-adIo."

I went silent and peered outside anxiously.

          Christine parked right inside a sectioned area, walls covering both sides of the car. It gave me the sense I was in a parking garage--a place local in my town for drivers to leave their vehicles in for a repair. Though, I tend to forget what happens around here since it doesn't interest me.

       First I get kicked out of the house, expecting to walk around like a homeless woman, and now I have a talking, human-like car? How am I supposed to react to this?

      I shakily reached out and brushed my finger on the wheel, "Uh, so when you mean that I'm your driver. Does that mean that I own you or something?"

"I A-m yO-urs...An-d y-Ou are mi-Ne."

I stared at the radio for a moment, yeah, that's just fucking normal.

"So, uh, you won't hurt me at all?" I questioned.

"I Pr-oTect m-Y dri-Ver."

I guess that answers my question.

I hummed a bit, looking around--I guess since I have a talking car, it can drive me anywhere that I want?

It did say that I own it..

"Christine?"

"Y-Es?"

"Can you take me back to my place? I just need to get some clothes and personal stuff to last a while until my parents take me back."

Christine whirred to life, making me go silent in fear, "Y-ou are N-Ot going T-hEre...I gOt MoN-ey...I'll T-ake y-Ou To a St-Ore."

    I bit my lip and tried to level my head. But then again, the vehicle's right, for my sake I probably shouldn't be there anymore. Not like they'll give me any of my stuff back anyways...

"S-eAt Be-lt." Christine said.

       I grinned faintly, scoffing. I put on the seat belt and watched the car pull out of the garage, the huge garage doors scraped against the pavement as they opened.

        The compartment in the passenger seat popped open, causing me to jolt in my seat. The radio buzzed.

        I peered inside and to my shock, there was a large wad of cash stashed inside. Simply shoved in there like someone didn't care--or didn't have time to get it.

"H-how?"

"M-aGic." the radio uttered.

      I chuckled a bit, leaning in my seat and sighing in comfort. But you know how silence gets to you, it makes you think.

     I did have a history of chronic depression, but for three years I was clean--I guess because my parents weren't so hard on me. After all, they knew I had it at the time and didn't want me to try anything. But now, assuming that I got over it, they went back to their hurtful, and strict selves.

    I still have the scars, the memories--and pain. All my parents had to do was yell at me for me to consider ending the three-year progression.

I looked down, watching the pedals move by themselves.

Isn't that what they wanted? For me to die?

"Goddammit, I was clean for so long. Don't bring it back," I muttered sourly to myself.

"W-hA-t?"

"I-It's something personal, I--don't want to talk about it."

       Christine went silent, after a bit of silence, it played music on the radio--which somehow, it was my personal favorite.

"I like this song," I said, smiling as the song played.

"I'll R-eMem-BeR I-t."

I paused, "Thank you."

      Christine bounced a little, probably to nod. I smiled, but it was quick to dissipate when the car pulled up to the store. Parking close to the entrance.

"W-e'rE H-eR-e."

I gulped nervously, staring at the large letters imprinted on the sign.

    A new fear came up, and I felt resistant to exit the car, the danger I would be put in would be far worse than staying at my parent's house.

After all, my abusive ex works here.