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dark-fanfiction · 3 days

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Dark at Times

Zade Meadows + Reader

Trigger Warnings - mentions of unaliving, depression, alcohol consumption, stalking, self harm

Summary - Let’s get to know who Zade is going to be stalking. You’re an incredibly broken soul who’s lost a lot of the life you knew and have been thrown into complete turmoil.

You’ve never lived alone. You never considered the possibility that you would be living alone. When you met your now ex boyfriend, you believed you were at your worst. 8 years ago, you was in a battle with your eating disorder, undiagnosed and felt hated by everyone. Then he came along, he helped you, gave you purpose when you felt you had none. You soon moved in together, formed a relationship with his family, which felt completely alien and a little scary since your family was so dysfunctional and abusive.

He showed you a way of living that grounded you. After moving in together, things got bad. Your drinking escalated and you’d find yourself self harming again. Something you hadn’t done since you were 14 years old. I guess a lot can change in 4 years. At 18, to be living with someone you believed to be your soulmate and be thrown head first into a whole new family put immense pressure on you that sent you barrelling over the edge.

8 years you devoted to that man. 8 years you bettered yourself for someone who dropped like a rock in a lake, the second he got a promotion and flew across the world to a new job without even telling you. You came home from your bar shift and found all his stuff gone, and naturally you panicked. Ringing him off the hook, checking with all his friends and family, who all aired you as well. You were left reeling and confused until you saw his Instagram story. He was in a whole new country, far away from your life in Cincinnati. And then the reeling stopped and you shattered. A million teeny tiny pieces everywhere. Sharp, jagged shards flying all over the place.

You knew it was going to be messy to clean yourself up after this. You’d recently been going to counselling and had received a diagnosis for BPD and anxiety disorder. Both of which you were still learning to keep under control.

…~~…

2 weeks has passed since he left, and you’ve packed up everything inside of your once shared apartment, having now moved into Parsons Manor, an old Victorian gothic mansion once owned by your only close relative, your aunty, who passed away a year ago, leaving the manor to you. Your ex never wanted to live here, he said it was too creepy, even though your aunty had poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into renovating the mansion just before she passed. So you accepted that his decision and moved into his cramped, modern apartment. Hating every minute of it. But you did that, for him. Now look where it’s left you. Alone. But at least you get to live in a place filled with such fond memories to you.

As you walk through house, the floors creak and groan beneath your delicate steps. The dark walls still look in perfectly, fresh painted condition, with beautiful, ornate Victorian age paintings hanging all over them. Everything is as she left it for you, and you couldn’t be happier. She always had the best eye for interior design, lucky as that’s what she did for a living, which is one of the reasons she invested in Parsons Manor. She saw a jewel in the mud, quite literally. Parsons manor is so remote and far off any beaten track that it sits alone and secluded atop its rolling hills and daunting cliffs.

You’ve been living at parsons manor for the past week, now fully unpacked, not that you had much to unpack anyway. Your routine stays fairly consistent. You work that bar shift 11am-4pm each weekday, come home and drink wine. Rose wine, so it’s sweet and cold and you’re able to drink far too much of it in one sitting.

…~~…

You’ve been leaning at the edge of the bar nursing your hangover for the past 5 minutes. Pressing your cold bottle of water on your forehead and strumming your fingers on the counter you contemplate what you’re going to do when you get home. Maybe read a book, or get changed and go for a walk along the cliffs… “yeah, maybe I’ll throw myself off of them” you mumble to yourself. Now that enough time has passed, you’ve made it through the anger and grief stage of being abandoned once again, and are now left in that foggy area where you’ve lost your favourite person, and with it your whole personality.

That’s the thing with BPD, you lose yourself in your favourite persons personality, and then when they leave… they take your new personality with them. And you’re no one again.

While you daydream about the inevitable onset of depression, you completely miss the ding on the bell as someone walks in. Still daydreaming until a daunting shadow is standing above you, looming over you. You look up to meet the gaze of a tall, incredibly handsome man. He’s striking, and takes your breath away in an instant. One incredibly dark eye and the other as white and bright as the sun. Across his bright eye is an incredibly vicious looking scar that only adds to allure of his dark good looking features. His hair is tucked under his black hood, but from what I can see he has a loose, neat mop of dark, silky hair. He’s tall as well, like, inhumanely tall, I’d say a good 6ft6.

“You okay there?” He asks, looking inquisitively at me, one brow cocked almost in a mocking sense as he dips his head to one side, strands of hair flopping across his sharp face. You stare blankly for a second before fumbling for an answer “Sorry, I’m good thank you, how can I help?” You managed to rasp out. “Just a whisky, neat” he grins as he says. He sits at the stool opposite where you were leaning. “Asshole” you mutter as you realise you won’t be able to lean there again, but instead have to busy yourself with jobs so you aren’t sucked into a conversation with the devilishly handsome man. You slide a napkin his way and place the drink gently down, offering him a shy smile and you tell him the price. You key in the amount on the card machine when he flashes his card at you, and hold out the machine to him so he can tap. “Thanks, enjoy your drink” you say to him as you walk down the bar to ring it through the till. You feel his eyes on your back the whole time, from the moment you turn away from him right up until he stand, thanks you for your time and walks out. The longest 10 minutes of your life, pretending to polish glasses and wipe surfaces as he slowly sips and watches you. You can’t decide if you felt uncomfortable or at ease. He didn’t seem threatening, in fact the complete opposite. He felt warm and inviting, almost familiar.

You finish up your shift and perform the mandatory handover to the next member of staff taking over from you for the evening shift.

…~~…

Zade watches you finish your shift from his car, delicately moving around behind the bar, clearing up glasses, wiping surfaces. All the usual jobs you’d expect a bar maid to do. Yet you do it with such grace. He’s entranced by you. Your small, petite frame moving effortlessly around, twirling and reaching for different items. Your long, dark wave hair slowly falling and blowing around your face. When you looked up at him in the bar he nearly fell backwards. It was clear you was lost in an ocean of thought, however you was stunning. Full, naturally round lips, a perfect little button nose and the most dazzling green eyes he’d ever seen. A dark green ring encircled them, making the colour shine so bright. Yet, he could see in your eyes that you were hurting. The never ending pools of colour didn’t seem like they were shining as brightly as they could, and he noticed you looked tired. Not the kind of tired you’d notice in someone who’s losing sleep, but the kind of tired where a persons soul is slowly giving up. He’s seen that look many times before, in a lot of the women and children he’s saved.

He watched you leave the bar, head hung low and an oversized hoodie thrown over yourself as you walked to your car in the rain. He’d guess you was maybe 5ft4. He watched you cross the road, you didn’t even glance up to check for cars. You wasn’t on your phone, you wasn’t distracted, it seemed more like you simply didn’t care if a car were to plough you down. His brows dipped in concern at the idea that you was putting yourself in danger on purpose. His whole purpose is to save and protect people, but you were different.

That’s what attracted him to you. You had a dark air around you, intriguing and mysterious. What was plaguing you enough to cause such deep rooted issues such as the possibility of death not scaring you.

Zade thought about that the whole drive, as he followed you back to a seemingly derelict road leading through a forest. He couldn’t exactly turn off and follow you down it as it’d be obvious he was following you. He hung back, allowing 5 minutes before signalling and turning down the dirt track, spotting a sign that reads ‘Parson Manor’ at the mouth of the road.

…~~…

You sit in the bay window of Parson Manor, looking out as dusk engolfs the woods surrounding you. You’re holding a large glass of wine like your life depends on it, the bottle sat on the floor next to you, there and ready to top your glass up when you take your last sip. A deep feeling of depression and loneliness is starting to settle in your chest, blooming like a garden that’s just come into spring. You often find your depression coming and going, but this time it feels different. It feels like it’s going to keep you company for a long time. You drink late into the night, maybe even the early hours, drifting off into a deep sleep sat in your bay window chair. Unsettling dreams keep you fidgeting throughout the night, but you’ve drank enough that at least the nightmares won’t wake you.

You stir, feeling as though someone’s watching you. Slowly you blink your eyes open, rubbing away the sleep that is blurring your vision. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you’re sure you heard something from behind you, but when you look there nothing or no one to be seen. You shake the feeling off and take yourself to bed, still wobbly on your feet as you check your phone for the time. 4:27am. Great, you’re going to feel like shit in a few hours time. “At least I’ll feel something…” you mumble as you face plant your bed, sleep and nightmares instantly welcoming you back.

…~~…

Zade has found himself in a routine now. Go off, do your work and come and watch you. It’s been 4 weeks since he’s been stalking you from afar. Sometimes he’ll keep an eye on you at work, but more often than not it’ll be through the windows of parsons manor. Even he finds this place creepy. He wonders how you must feel, but you seem so at home with darkness that he thinks that must be it. You surround yourself with darkness, including where you live.

He’s grown a deep love for you, and has developed a sense of protection over you. He watched as what seemed to be a group of familiar people to you speedily drove down the dirt track, slamming and skidding to a stop outside the mansion. At first you came out with what appeared to be a surprised smile on your face, only to see it drop in seconds when a stern faced woman came out screaming and shouting, telling you that you shouldn’t be here and that this house didn’t belong to you. She proceeded to drag items out of the house, your clothes, laptop and other personal belongings, tossing them all over the place, screaming at you to get out of her sisters house and leave the family alone. It only became apparent to Zade that she was your mother after hearing you screaming at her. The words hurt his soul to hear, wondering how any woman could ever tear down their daughter like that “You’re nothing to this family! No daughter of mine would be such a disappointment!” You of course would plead back to her, asking why she had to be this way to you. Your tiny physique made you seem so vulnerable as you held yourself, arms crossed and head down, tears falling from your cheeks. Zade wanted nothing more than to walk up to you, pick you up, cradle you and tell you everything was okay. That he was there and that you wasn’t alone. But he couldn’t yet.

Slowly, as the weeks passed he noticed bandages adorning your left arm. He’d been watching you long enough to know you didn’t go to the hospital to get whatever was wrong dressed. He had Jay check the hospital records for you, and nothing flagged up. Whatever had happened, you’d treated it yourself. Worry grew in Zades mind, and one afternoon while you worked, he came and installed the latest spy cams throughout your sprawling mansion. This way, he could always keep an eye on you and make sure you was okay, even if he’d have to ask Jay to check on you from time to time.

He was surprised when he reached your kitchen and saw several red roses placed in a vase, each one at a different stage of dying. One was nearly completely petal-less. You’d kept each rose he was sending to you. He smiled to himself “I’m glad you like the roses, baby” wishing desperately that he was holding you and saying it to your face.

…~~…

Each time you receive a rose and a note, mixed emotions rise to the surface. You have a stalker. A very real, possibly dangerous stalker. As soon as you received the first note and flower you instantly grabbed for your phone to check whether it was your ex. His stories on instagram would confirm that it wasn’t. The excitement died in less than a second and fear settled in its place. Through the fear though, you felt somewhat less alone. Parsons Manor can isolate a soul, imprison them and leave them wishing for death just like you had been each night. The notes gave you something to do, although short, they are sweet. You’d read them with a glass or few of wine. “One day, little mouse, you’ll smile. And that day will light up my whole entire world” that one in particular felt the warmest to read. While it is scary to have an unknown stranger watching you, at least someone cared… right?

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