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angelofthenight · 2 months

Text

What Doesn’t Kill Me Pt.3

(Yandere!Alex DeLarge x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Yandere, Dark themes, Ladstat, Swearing/Language, Unhealthy/Abusive relationship, Physical abuse/Violence, Sadism, Blood, Paranoia, Objectification, A v brief suicidal thought, Jealousy/Possessiveness, Controlling behavior, Intimidation/Coercive control/Power imbalance, Emotional/Mental trauma, Spying, Gangs, Murder, A parallel if you can catch it, Alex is his own warning, You are responsible for your own content consumption

Word Count: 3.6k

Table of Contents

You and Alex sat shoulder to shoulder on your couch as you ate dinner on the short coffee table, a movie called ‘Lolita’ playing on your television. Alex’s thigh that was pressed flat against yours did nothing to ease the nervousness that stirred like a whirlpool in your stomach. Though your head was gradually succeeding in telling you that you had nothing to worry about. Unless he had cameras in your apartment, Alex had no way of knowing of your-

“What did that malchick want?”

He asked the question so casually that you almost didn’t register the words over the tone. “What?” You didn’t mean to play dumb but you just didn’t want to answer too quickly, plus you wanted to be sure who exactly he was referring to.

“The one that was at your door.” He responded simply as he continued to eat and watch the movie with his elbows resting on his knees. Despite the fear that gripped around you over the fact he knew you had a visitor, you tried to brush the conversation away as quickly as possible. “He was just trying to sell me something.” You grumbled with the shake of your head, trying to appear as if you didn’t care about the interaction at all.

Alex swallowed his bite of food. “And why would he go to you?” He asked, as if he was looking for a reason to get worked up. “Alex, he went to everybody’s door.” You rationalized the lie, your grip on your fork weakening yet tightening. Said boy chuckled cheekily as he leaned back into the cushions of your couch like you just told him a good joke. You felt his stare on the back of your head like a hot laser, the pressure and tension of the situation humidifying around you to create sweat.

“That’s quite funny you say that. Because I precisely recall sitting downstairs myself and when he strolled in, he went straight to the front desk and he asked the lobbyman what floor your door number was on.”

Your wide gaze was strongly glued to your half-eaten plate while your features began to shake terribly. Your heart was eaten by a pulsation and you felt as if the room was closing in on you; a nasty mixture of terror and panic suffocating you. You wanted to throw up, you wanted some air, you wanted to cry, you wanted to scream till your uvula burned just to let it all out. Why did God seem to despise you so much for this to happen? Did the universe just not want you to get out of this prison of endless pain and fright, thus slamming the door closed right in your face when you were so close to slipping through the opening to escape it?

Alex’s evil grin tried its best not to turn bitter and tight. The thought of another man at your door, and the thought of another man inside your living room, made him livid on the inside. His mind fogged with the brimming of a dazed insanity as he fought the urge to destroy your living room like a savage gorilla just because of that visualization. His possessiveness was sensitive, similar to a child throwing a tantrum if someone merely touched their teddy bear.

He spoke with a mocking yet tempered tone. “So are you trying to tell me he was selling pol? Is that it? He was just trying to spat with you-” “He has a girlfriend, Alex.” You interrupted while glancing at him over your shoulder, trying to shut down any jealousy before he got too heated in the head. Blood had spilled out the corner of your mouth too many times because of that possessive jealousy of his.

But that did not give comfort to Alex’s angry greed at all. “You think that’d stop a man’s primal instinct when they clap glazzes on you and your horrorshow groodies?”

Your brows slightly furrowed down at your plate as your quivering lips pursed together, tears that you tried your best to resist finally began to sting your corneas. Alex never wasted a chance to install it in your brain that every man had no other interest than to fuck you when they looked at you. It wasn’t just degrading or objectifying, it was dehumanizing.

It sounded like he was waiting for you to say something yet you didn’t know what he wanted you to say. You never felt like you could win against Alex. Even if your IQ was higher than his, you still felt like he was smarter than you in every way. Or maybe it was just that domineering and overbearing attitude he had towards everyone around him. You’ve seen up close how successfully he intimidates both his parents and his friends, no one daring to stand up to him. But no one knew his force quite like you. No one was as intimidated by him as you. Not just because you were the weakest link or of his commanding and bold aura, but because of the techniques he used to cow you into submission.

You just wanted to lower yourself to the floor, curl up tightly into a ball, tuck your head into your knees, and rot away. That’s all you wanted to do; fantasizing that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“Allow me to ask you again, my darling. What did that prestoopnick want?” He put emphasis on each word like they were laced in venom.

It was too late, your first lie failed and that was your one and only shot. No matter your fake answer now, he wouldn’t believe it because he had already caught you lying. And if you had to lie about what Patrick wanted, Alex knew for sure it was something he wouldn’t like at all.

Alex rolled his icy blue eyes and huffed out a sigh, slapping his hands on his knees to push himself up to a stand. “Well then! If you won’t tell me then I’ll go ask that gent myself!”

Your eyes sprung wide open, a breath sharply inhaling up through your nose to burn your lungs. He was only able to take three steps before you had thrown yourself onto your knees to his feet and clutched onto the fabric of his pants. “Alex, no, PLEASE!” You wailed hoarsely as if he was leaving you alone with a poltergeist. You couldn’t let that poor boy be subjected to such pitiless inhumanity just because he associated with you out of the kindness of his heart. The thought of it was equally as painful as anything Alex could throw at you.

You whimpered out pleas as you pawed at his legs with tight embracing arms, burying your face in the back of his knees and undoubtedly dampening the fabric with tears. You knew you looked pathetic, most definitely stroking his superiority complex, but Alex murdered your dignity long ago. You were more than willing to beg.

He took a turn to look down at you. Surprisingly softly, his hand leaned down to allow his fingers to trace your jawline. His unreadable gaze stared back into your leaking eyes that held a begging look. He smiled, and for a moment you had a hopeful belief that he would grant mercy and maybe instead take it out on you. But that naive, childish hope was shattered like an ornament the second you noticed that malicious glint in his orbs.

And before you could feel your fear warn you about what was to come, Alex had snatched your throat, receiving your sharp wheeze as he engulfed it in his big hand. He compressed tightly to force you up and off your knees, slowly as to enjoy the sweet sounds of your choking gasps. He slammed you against the wall by your throat and held you there, his strong grip never once faltering. Your hands swung upwards, switching back and forth between trying to pry his grasp off to allow a desperate breath for air and clutching onto his sleeve and forearm for support and something to hold onto through the dizzying pain.

Numb fear filled your bloodshot eyes to the brim and his reaction was a toothy smile. He leaned his sinister expression close to the side of your face that was paling close to a bluish tint. “Such a bad girl for lying to me.” He husked in your ear which would’ve sent shivers spiraling down your bones if you weren’t so distracted by the lack of oxygen to your brain and the spots that began to form in your vision. You heard his voice ring in your ears yet you didn’t understand what he said, but you just knew it was something dark and chilling.

He suddenly removed his face from your cheek to look directly into your dilating pupils to show a kittenish smirk and bright eyes, but his squeeze remained unforgivably tight on your windpipe. He said in a mockingly innocent and forgiving tone, “But all relationships go through a bit of a rough patch, don’t they? We’ll push through this just like we always do. Any bastard that tries to skvat you from me just doesn’t viddy what we’ve got, my love.”

Your overwhelming wheezing, deep gasps became more turbulently desperate as a red substance began to rim your eyeballs. That was when Alex decided it was time to release you, gently letting go of your neck. A powerful gasp of air shot down your esophagus before his hold on you weakened enough to allow you to fall. However, when you fell, you fell right into his kick to your stomach. You landed on your side on the floor with a pair of pained whimpers and grunts, blood smearing around your gums and teeth.

Alex didn’t stay a second longer after the kick to torment you as he instantly continued on his way. “Love hurts, sweetheart!” He called out over his shoulder once he grabbed his cane that he left leaning on the wall beside your door and rested it on his shoulder blade. He escorted himself out like he was just going to run an errand.

You were left to tremble on your floor with one arm hugging your assaulted stomach and your free hand softly touching your burning throat. You moaned from the awful pain for a while, dealing with the difficulty and pain with breathing and swallowing. Your head was aching and you felt sick. When you finally managed to get a steady breath you used it to retch out the blood in your mouth while still laying on your side, creating a crimson splatter mark on the floor. The foul tasting blood still dripped down from the corner of your lips.

As your tired eyes grew lachrymose, a wet sniffle was heard from your petrified form. More followed. And more. And more. And more until one inhale with your frowning mouth triggered an agonized sob to escape from your burning throat. Hot tears finally streamed down your face, so hot you felt like they were leaving burn streak marks.

Gut-wrenching sobs filled the dead silent room and your face flushed pink from the intensity of your breakdown. Your tears poured out of your eyes like there were faucets linked to them as you weakly pushed yourself up. Anguished sobs and snivels still continued with full energy. You got yourself to stand, though with a hunch from the pounding pain in your gut, and walked yourself towards your bedroom with a shake to each step while leaning against the wall for support.

You finally reached the side of your bed, yet when you put one hand on it your knees buckled. You crumbled to the floor and into the corner that was in between your nightstand and bed. More sobs escaped you as you cradled into that corner like a child scared of the monsters in the closet. Eventually your cheeks became so wet from tears someone wouldn’t be able to tell what were new trails.

Your quaking hands reached up to grip onto the roots of your hair as your lips quivered over the faint hyperventilation. You released a manic, miserable yell as you began to slam your head against the floorboards. You couldn’t live like this anymore, you couldn’t bear another day of being Alex’s little doll to play with as he pleased. How could he claim to love you and adore you more than Beethoven when he did such awful things to you?

You contemplated if the fall from the height your window was at in the building was high enough to kill you. Yet you were more scared of more pain. You contemplated plotting out Alex’s murder. But you knew you didn’t have it in you to do it. Even if someone put a gun in your hands, saying you could either put the bullet through your head or his, you’d probably drop the gun. Alex had shaped you into a coward. Your old self would’ve been disgusted and furious at you for becoming this.

You didn’t sleep at all. All night long you lived in the haunting fear that he was going to come back to punish you for the attempt to break free from him; every minute was spent thinking it was going to be any second now. Any second now. Any second now…

Your red puffy eyes shot open from the clanking sound of your mail slot that squeaked throughout your flat, your daily newspaper sliding through. The daylight that peeked through your shades caused you to squint back, your hand moving up to touch your head from the way it ached due to your lengthy mental breakdown that had lasted for the majority of the night. It also probably ached from the position you woke up in, not even realizing that you fell asleep while anticipating Alex’s chilling return.

But he never came back. Which was… strange… for Alex.

You fearfully and fidgetly did your best to go about your day, at least your day inside. You were far too beyond frightened to leave the building, having a deep rooted fear of coming home to Alex hiding somewhere. And the thought of going out in public nearly made you sick because of the anxious agitation that clung around you like heavy chains.

But Alex never came back.

It would’ve been amazingly nice to have a full day off from Alex… if you had a notice. The whole day you kept the front door in your peripheral vision just because of the overwhelming fear that he would come back at literally any second. So after you contained his cold dinner to put in the fridge and you tucked yourself into your sheets, you had realized you wasted the entire rare day of Alex’s absence by being maddeningly paranoid.

Even in the morning you were very off-putted by the fact Alex still hadn’t come back, not even in the night which were his most active hours. You stirred your coffee in your kitchen as you stared off into space, debating if you should call off work today… again. You knew they just had to have been thinking about firing you due to how many times you called off, Alex of course being the reason. You believed the only reason why you were still employed was because your motherly and sisterly coworkers vouched for you endless times and also rationalized your excuses.

You jumped at the sound of your mail slot, the sound of your morning newspaper hitting the floor following. You swallowed and placed your hot mug down to walk to your front door. Crouching down, you picked up the thick roll and opened it up as you walked back to your kitchen. The first three pages were nothing interesting, just articles of oil and advertisements for wall painters and city politics.

The fourth page, however, caught your attention so intensely it halted your leg movements. Because there, right before your eyes, printed in black ink were the words about the arrest of a young man named Alexander Delarge. Your widened eyes stared at the printed name for some time, your mouth hung agape and your heartbeat nearly silenced.

This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t… It was too good to be true. Your psychosis was playing a cruel, hallucinated joke on you to mock you and your childish hope.

But you finally dragged your disbelieved pupils across the sentences to see the key statements, only those sticking out to you as the words blended together in a blur. It was as if the two statements stood out in a yellow highlight, “------murder charge—----sentenced to 14 years in State Jail.”

Something dripped on the thin paper you held in your tight hands. Another drop followed. The liquefied form of absolute pure joy slipped out the corners of your eyes as a genuine smile stretched across your face. A breathy laugh escaped your throat. As you cried tears of joy and your smile embiggened, heavy laughter bellowed out of you. You reread the words over and over again while you elatedly laughed like a madman.

You were so happy about Alex’s arrest that your attention didn’t focus on the sickening guilt you owned for the murder of Patrick. But… he did say he really wanted to help you, and coincidentally his death was the greatest help of all. It practically served as a sacrifice for your freedom. Maybe two wrongs did make a right.

Though his death was still caused by your interaction from his selfless concern for your safety. But that was something that could eat you alive tomorrow. Today was yours. So what did you want to do first?

You put on a very specific record. The record Alex claimed was yours and his song, which made you grow to despise the song with every fiber of your being, the lyrics feeling so mocking to you and your predicament that you wanted nothing more than to shove your palms over your ears when it played. Yet now… you found it to be a beautiful melody.

So as Cilla Black’s “You’re My World” played from your record player, you danced as if you were head over heels in love. You spun and leapt around your flat, flailing your arms around and mouthing the words dramatically. You danced to your fridge and swung it open like you were in a stage play, snatching the contained and untouched dinner for Alex last night and gracefully chucked it into the garbage.

“You're my world, you are my night and day~”

You grabbed the two cartons of milk and poured the two white liquids down your kitchen sink drain, still mouthing the song words overjoyously.

“You're my world, you're every prayer I pray~”

Light on your feet, you danced back into your living room in the direction of the framed photo of you and Alex that he put up himself on your wall. It was a picture from Alex’s birthday when he went to your restaurant for the free Birthday Special lunch during your shift. Your manager thought it was adorable thus took a picture of the two of you as you sat with him in the booth. Alex was facing the camera with a big smile and was leaning backwards so that you could rest your chin on his shoulder. He had a hand on the side of your face and was pushing it closer to him so that his and yours cheeks were squishing together. You were forcing a smile yet your eyes remained miserable.

Since it was just such a cute photo, your manager framed it on the Birthday wall at the restaurant and gave you a copy. Alex already had so many pictures of the two of you in his bedroom and didn’t really have any room left for another so he mounted it on your living room wall. You always hated looking at that photo, ironically the pose and position in the photo made it look like Alex was resting your decapitated head on his shoulder.

But now you were dancing towards the frame, pointing at it with a foxy expression like you were trying to seduce a real person. You reached the photograph and dragged your hands sensually down the wall on both sides of the frame as you still dramatically mouthed the sung words of Cilla Black.

“If our love~ ceases to be~”

You caressed the side of his face with the back of your hand before you tapped on his nose with your finger. Then you had grabbed the frame off its nails and spun on your feet once while you wore an overdramatic lovestruck expression. You ballroom danced with it around your living room.

“Then it’s the end of my world~”

You halted your dancing to mimic the singing belt as you put on mocking bedroom eyes towards the Alex in the photo. You leaned forward to kiss his face comically.

“End of my world~”

Your expression then switched to a badly acted and overdramatic face of sorrowful sadness during your lip sync of the song turning sad, the back of your hand on your forehead as you swung your head back like a damsel in distress.

“End of my world~”

Your head snapped back down, a small smile beginning to grow. Then you had chucked the picture frame to the floor with all your strength, glass shards sliding from the impact.

“For~ me~”

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