TW's - Car wrecks, passive suicidal thoughts
Life sucks.
It was currently 12:30 in the morning and I was sitting on the curb outside of a 7-Eleven, drinking a melted slushy that was turning my tongue blue.
I had one earbud in, blasting my favorite playlist in my ear. I had made it a couple nights ago but it quickly became my favorite. For some strange reason, playlists made right after mental breakdowns were always the best ones.
My day started out relatively normal. I completed my normal routine of waking up at 12pm, taking a shower as quickly as possible (My fastest time is currently 3 minutes and 48 seconds), and shoving on clothes that I found scattered across my room. Today I had ended up wearing some cargo shorts and a band shirt along with my favorite jacket.
After getting ready, I had rushed out the door, forgot my keys, ran back inside, got my keys and finally was on my way to my job.
Of course, my day only got better from there, right?
Wrong.
I wasn't paying much attention to the light and turned left, following the cars in front of mine. Most of it was a blur after that but a car had hit the side of mine, flipping my car and totaling it. Aren't I lucky?
The person who hit me got out with minimal damage, but of course, I wasn't quite as lucky. I ended up with glass from the shattered windows embedded in my skin and a large gash across my forehead. There were also sharp pains in my chest with each breath I took.
An hour later, after talking with the officers about insurance and other boring things, I was on my way to work. The officers had insisted I was to be taken to a hospital to receive treatment, but sadly I earn minimum wage and can barely afford rent, much less hundreds of dollars of medical bills.
Yay America.
I hobbled into work. I smelled strongly of gasoline and had a concerning amount of dried blood covering maybe a third of my face. I had (hopefully) removed all the glass from the rest of my body, which meant my arms and legs were also covered in dried blood. What a great day to be wearing shorts.
Though, because i'm so lucky of course, my manager walked out of the break room and froze when they saw me.
They were extremely attractive, though not quite my type. They had shoulder length maroon hair that was currently pulled up into a high ponytail, which complimented their fair skin. They wore a simple black apron over a plain black T-shirt and black dress slacks.
I grinned at them slightly, wincing at the pain it caused me, "Did I make it on time?"
"No, you're an hour and a half late. You're also covered in blood. You look like you died and then were somehow brought back to life," My manager, Phoenix, told me.
I cringed a bit at the slightly harsh tone they held in their voice. "Look. I know I'm late again- but I wrecked and was held up by the police and had to walk the rest of the way here because my car was totaled. I know you said if I was late one more time I would be fired but-"
"No buts. You were really good company to have and would make a great friend, but as an employee you're lacking. You somehow manage to do less than the bare minimum and can't be on time for the life of you. You cuss out customers on an almost daily basis and we've received an abundance of customer reviews outlining their negative experiences with you," Phoenix interrupted. "You can go grab your clothes from your locker in the break room. Leave your apron and key for the store here. Maybe we can keep in touch later."
I stared at them in shock. With this job I was barely paying rent, I was eating one meal a day because it was all I could afford. Without this job I wouldn't be able to pay rent. I didn't have a friends house I could stay at either.
"Phoenix please you know how badly I need this job-"
"You know where the break room is. Our conversation is over. It was nice working with you," they interrupted, again.
I groaned in defeat and walked over to the break room. Tears started to fill my eyes while I grabbed my work clothes from my locker. The same locker I had been using for the past three years. I shoved the clothes into my bag and threw my apron onto the table that sat in the middle of the room.
There was a moment of hesitation while I contemplated what I wanted to do. Making my decision, I walked over too the coffee machine with the store keys in my hand. I grabbed the stack of cups and took off half the cups. I put the keys in the middle cup and stacked them back up. Yeah sure, it was a little petty. I was feeling petty though.
I walked quickly out of the break room, head down to avoid people around me from seeing my tears. At some point in the break room I had begun to full on sob. The automatic door slid open and I walked out of the store, probably for the last time.
I walked slowly down the street. I needed to clean my injuries. They would probably get infected if I didn't. The adrenaline rush from the wreck had fully worn off by now and I was sore all over. I just needed a place where I could grab some first aid supplies and rest for a while.
Then, as if my thoughts had been answered, I saw it. A 7-Eleven. It had paint that was peeling off and a gas pump was leaking, creating a small puddle of gasoline on the ground. Though despite the fact that it looked like it would collapse at any second, it was still perfect.
I rushed towards it as quickly as I could, though still being mindful of my injuries. As I entered a bell ring, alerting the tired looking cashier to my existence. He glanced up for a short second before returning back to whatever he was doing on his phone.
I wandered around until I found some first aid supplies and grabbed myself a slushy while I was there. After the day I had been through, I deserved a slushy.
When I got to the counter, I put my stuff down and the man slid his phone into his pocket and started scanning my items.
"Rough day huh?" He asked me as he scanned the final items.
"Yeah just a bit," I laughed a little, though there wasn't any humor in it.
He put all the items in a bag, "Your total is $23.74. Cash or card?"
I slid my card through the machine and waited for a second before it said approved.
"Hope your day gets better," is all the man said as he handed me my bag.
I hoped so too.
-
I had been sitting outside the store for hours. I cleaned the cuts that had been opened and bandaged them as best as I could. I had also wiped most of the blood off my face. It confused me as to why the cashier didn't question me further about being covered in dried blood, though he worked at a gas station so he had probably seen worse before.
Despite the fact that the sun set several hours ago, I didn't have it in me to move anywhere. I just sat on the curb under the orange light that was coming from a slightly broken bulb attached to the side of the building.
I slowly sipped on my drink, occasionally lip syncing along to the lyrics of songs I enjoyed. If you ignored the fact I was sore all over and in large amounts of pain, everything was peaceful.
Until there was a loud bang from the dumpster area.
Eyes wide, my head snapped towards the direction of the noise and my hand instinctively flew to the pocket knife that was in my pocket. It was 6 inches long and had a black handle that fit comfortably in my hand. It was larger than an average sized pocket knife but it was better for self defense than one of the smaller, more flimsy ones. It was something I kept on me for comfort, though I never expected to be in a situation where I might actually have to use it.
I sat still and waited for another sound to occur. After a while of silence I began to relax slightly, until I heard a loud scream. The scream was then followed by yelling. Lots of yelling.
Against my better judgement, and because I'm an idiot, I flicked open my pocket knife, the blade reflecting the orange light that was being cast from above, and walked slowly towards the noise. I was walking quietly, hopefully able to sneak up on them.
I peaked around the corner and my heart beat even faster than before. Any faster and it would probably shoot out of my chest.
A man was holding another one by the collar of his shirt yelling at him. I caught snippets through my panic. From what I gathered, he owed the other guy money or something and couldn't pay up. A classic situation.
I stood there for a bit watching the two. It didn't take long for me to notice the knife in the guys abdomen though. The other one had probably stabbed him because he was mad at him. Or he had a knife kink, but for some reason I doubt that.
Suddenly, the man who was being yelled at snapped his head towards me, which, of course, led to the other man looking at me too. He stopped yelling and yanked the knife out of the other guy and he fell to the ground clutching his stomach. Ignoring the groans of pain coming from the man on the ground, he walked towards me at a slow pace, but with long strides, the knife positioned in his hand as if he was going to attack me.
I mean, he probably was.
I was proved right a second later as he lunged at me. Thankfully I had shook myself out of the small bit of shock I was experiencing and dodged. The knife actually missed me by a lot, but the attacker quickly spun on his heel and raced towards me again.
There were no thoughts going through my head at this point. The instinct to survive coursed through my veins, taking control of me.
I dodged his attack by stepping to the right, slightly ducking my head. He was relentless though. He turned around quickly and sliced a deep gash across my shoulder. That would probably scar.
I couldn't feel the pain at that moment because of the adrenaline racing through me, though I knew I would feel it later if I survived this.
No if. I had to survive. I wasn't going to die right now. Though I had nothing left to live for, I would rather take my own life than die to a person I never met before in a dimly lit gas station.
I decided I wasn't getting anywhere by just dodging and went straight for it. As he sliced my shoulder, he left his back slightly exposed. I took my chance and raised my knife and swung it as hard as I could into the middle of his back.
The man let out a shriek and fell to the ground. I quickly kicked his knife away from him and rolled him over onto his back after removing my knife. I debated whether or not if I was satisfied with leaving him like this, or ending his misery.
He would probably just be a waste of space if he did stay, and the man on the floor who he stabbed deserved some sort of justice.
Without another thought flowing through my mind, I brought the knife into his chest, And I took it out and shoved it back in. And again. And again. And again.
By the time I was done, I stumbled backwards, finally processing what I had done.
"holy fuck," I whispered, "he's dead, I killed him. He's actually dead. It's my fault. Holy fuck. "
"Yeah he is," a voice behind me stated.
I had never turned around quicker in my whole life. I also didn't expect the person who stood there, calmly looking at the corpse, to be the cashier.
"Wow, you really did a number on him. This your first time? You're acting like it," the man stated casually, as if he were discussing a previous baseball game instead of a murder.
"I didn't- I- I thought- Don't know-" I stumbled over my words. I couldn't even process what I did. In the moment it was instinct.
The a terrifying thought occurred to me.
"Are you going to report me?" I asked, worry evident in my voice.
"Darling, if I reported you, I might as well turn myself in too," he grinned at me.
This was the first time I really looked at him, and he wasn't all that bad looking. He was actually pretty attractive. He had short, dirty blond hair and brown eyes. His smile showed off his sharper canines, which was oddly attractive.
Then it occurred to me what he said.
"Wait," I started, "Does that mean, does that mean you've killed someone before?" I asked, my voice getting quieter as I spoke.
He appeared to think for a second ," Yeah I have. Too many to count actually. I have a safe place I go to though so I don't get caught. You, my friend, do not have a safe place and will get caught, so I recommend hopping into your car and driving off."
I didn't have a place to go. I was going to end up missing rent and getting evicted anyways. I had nowhere to go, I didn't even have a fucking car to sleep in. All I had was a bag with my work clothes, my wallet, some hand sanitizer, and other small things.
"Take me with you."
He looked at me stunned. I didn't even realize the words had come from my mouth.
"I can't, and you probably wouldn't last a day. Most everyone there is insane and bloodthirsty. Some of them will even eat you if they get a chance. One of my pals really likes kidneys. He's probably going to turn yours into a snack," the cashier said, still obviously shocked by my suggestion.
"Please," I begged, "I won't have a home for much longer, I don't have a car to get back to my house, and I have nothing left here for me anyways, everything is falling to pieces and I don't want to get caught."
The man looked at me, thought for a moment, and then sighed.
"I guess the worse thing that happens is we have another body to clean up," he stated, "Follow me."
I followed him, not forgetting to grab my slushy. He led us around the building and to a small parking area in the back. A small silver honda sat there. It had a few dents and scratches but otherwise looked like it was in good condition.
I didn't realize I had stopped until he spoke.
"Are you going to get in? I don't have to take you ya know. I could just leave you here."
I looked at him and saw he was already getting in the driver seat. I rushed around the car and climbed in the passengers seat, pulling the seatbelt across my body and pushing it into the little lock that held it.
We drove for a few minutes in silence before the cashier finally spoke up.
"So what's your name?"
"Oh right, my name's (Y/N), what's yours?" You replied. Might as well get to know the person who's helping you.
"That's a cool name, my name is Brian." He replied as he made a left turn.
"You should have used your turn signal there," I mentioned after noticing I didn't hear the familiar ticking.
"Yes, because a murderer definitely cares about following traffic laws," Brian replied sarcastically, making another turn. Of course, without turning his turn signal on.
I sighed and looked out the passenger window, watching the trees pass by, the edge of the forest being illuminated by the streetlights. Occasionally I saw what might have been an animal running through the trees for a few seconds before vanishing back into the forest.
"So," I said, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen inside the car, "Why are you a cashier?"
I saw him glance at me quickly out of the corner of my eye before returning his attention back to the road. "Gotta feed people somehow. We've worked out a situation where we don't need to pay bills and still get electricity, water, all that good stuff, but food still costs money. We have a lot of mouths to feed too. Some people eat things that they can get while they're out killing, others, like myself, need to eat actual food."
"Wait, what do you mean, 'out killing'?" I asked, just beginning to realize what I had gotten myself into. At this point I had turned to face him.
"Well hun, I already told you I've murdered more people than I could count, right? How do you think I've gotten that number?" He made eye contact with me and grinned as my eyes widened slightly.
"You mean, you just go out and murder people? For fun?" I asked, my hands starting to tremor slightly.
"Yeah, more or less," Brian replied, turning his attention back to the road, "Most of the people we kill though are ones we're assigned too. Like a mission."
I couldn't believe that in one day I had turned from a normal person into a murderer who was being taken by another murderer to live in a house full of murderers. It was a lot to process. Plus, I was still in mild shock from killing someone.
The worst part about it though?
Taking a life from another person made me feel alive.
And the guilt from taking a man from this world was eating at my soul.
I leaned my head against the window, slowly letting my eyes drift closed. Was it a bad idea to fall asleep in the car with a murderer? Yes, yes it was. Did I really care? No, not really.
Somewhere deep inside my brain, the rational side of my brain was yelling and cursing at me about how much of a dumbass I was for begging a stranger to take me to a house full of other strangers (though in my defense the stranger who was driving the car was a very attractive stranger).
I was exhausted though. I had a shitty day and an even shittier night. I at least deserve a while to rest. As I was about to fall asleep, I heard Brian ask me a question.
"Hey, are you going to finish your slushy?" He whispered.
I slightly shook my head, though it wasn't very obvious. He must have seen it though, because as I was drifting off into sleep, I heard him drinking my, now his, slushy.
-
When I woke up I was being carried through a forest. I looked up to see who was carrying me, and what I did not expect to see, was someone wearing a dirty, washed out, yellow hoodie and a black fabric mask with a red frowny face on it.
I yelped and rolled out of his arms. He tried to catch me, but obviously failed because gravity or something. I ended up falling on the ground, making an oof sound as I hit the forest floor.
The masked man on the other hand, went to grab me again. I rolled away, thinking I had escaped his attempt at capturing me, but he just grabbed the back of the jacket I was wearing and pulled me back towards him.
"Dude I'm not kidding if you don't let me go right now, I'm gonna scream. You don't want me to scream. I have a very high pitched scream. It is very loud and-" I said quickly, trying to reason with him, though more along the lines of threatening him.
"(Y/N). Chill the fuck out. It's just me," I heard a familiar voice say. The man pulled off his mask and squatted down next to wearing I was laying on the ground.
"BRIAN!" I yelled at him, "Dude I though I had been kidnapped or something. You can't scare me like that man. Not cool."
"First of all, I can scare you as much as you like, especially if Slender approves you as a resident. Second, you should call me Hoodie, not Brian. Most people here don't share their names. Don't ask me why, it's just a thing." Br- Hoodie told me, offering a hand to me.
I grabbed his hand and he pulled me up. He then slipped his mask back on and gestured for me to follow him, then began walking through the forest. I quickly stumbled after him, wincing from the pain in my ribs.
"Hey Hoodie," I asked as I caught up to him, "If I become a resident, does that mean, I'll have to, you know, kill people?"
He looked at me like he thought I must be joking. At least, I think that's how he was looking at me. The mask covering his face kind of made it hard to interpret what kind of face he was making.
"Yeah, I mean it's that or you die. Not much of a choice. Do or die, murderer of people or lunch for a cannibal, nerf or nothing. You get it?"
"Nerf or nothing. You had no better way of explaining it?"
"Well I did explain it. I gave you two examples, and one of my teachers back in collage always said that three examples are better than two. So nerf or nothing it is." He said, his voice sounds like he was smiling a bit.
"You went to collage?" I asked, surprised, "I kind of just assumed you just spawned in at age, however old you are, as a murderer who had a part time job at a gas station for some reason."
He let out a small laugh, "Yeah I went to collage. It was pretty chill for a while but the end of it got a little messy. I can't remember much from it anyways."
It felt like that was the end of the conversation, so now I was stuck figuring out what to talk about. Luckily, I didn't have to think long as we arrived at a clearing in the forest.
I stopped as I took in the view. In the middle of the clearing sat a large white house. It appeared to have three stories, though the top one could easily just be an attic or maybe a loft type thing. There was a few steps up the front porch and a brown door that created a nice contrast with the white that surrounded it.
From the angle I was at, I could see a decently sized garden growing on one side of the house. On the other side were trees that had targets spray painted on them. Most of the targets had marks in them, most of the marks looking like they were made from an axe, though there were some that could have been made from knives or other sharp objects.
Hoodie noticed me looking around and sighed, walked over to me, grabbed my arm, and pulled up towards the front door.
It was now that I was realizing what was actually happening. I was walking into a house full of killers who could murder me the second I walked in. I froze in my place, a couple feet from the door. Hoodie gave my arm a little tug but I didn't budge.
"What's wrong?" He sighed.
"What if they try to kill me the second I walk in there?" I asked worriedly.
"You'll be okay," he assured me while opening the door and guiding me inside, "No one is going to try and kill you-"
He was interrupted by a knife embedding itself into the wall, centimeters away from my head.
A/N-
Okay, so after I've finished all the parts I'm going to add them together and publish them as a single part, but I've been working on this for a few days and really just wanna publish it and stuff.
It's a bit longer so how do we feel about that?
Also I'm sorry that it took me so long, I've been having a lot of seizures recently so my brain is kinda fucked up rn and I'm tired all the time because of the seizures. I also have a lot of school work but that doesn't matter because who needs good grades when you can be writing x reader fanfiction, right?
Anyways, I'll ask extra calmly.
PLEASE PLEASE GIVE ME SUGGESTIONS I AM THE MOST UNORIGINAL PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD AND NEED PROMPTS OR IDEAS OR ANYTHING.
SOME IDEAS FOR STUFF YOU CAN SUGGEST-
- Pasta x Reader
- Pasta x Pasta
- Pasta x Pasta x Pasta
- General Pasta stuff (preferably chaotic but i'm not picky)
PLEASE GUYS IM DESPERATE
Also go drink water.