Upon the Gaze (Ghostface X Reader 18+)

CHAPTER ONE - We Meet

It was an early evening on a Sunday night. I had finished filling out applications online, taken a shower, and skipped dinner because honestly I hadn't been feeling hungry lately. I had been in my head so much recently, reciting maladaptive daydreams of stories I heard on the news of a recent string of murders. It was one of my few escapes now from the real world.
It was just me in this big house, just on the outskirts of town. It had belonged to my grandfather, who recently passed and left it to me. I graciously took the opportunity to move in since I was struggling to keep ends meet in the city. The house was fully paid off and only utilities were still a necessary payment. Truthfully I also needed a change of pace. I had cut ties with most of the people I knew back in the city, as I gradually started to realize they weren't friends worth having. That it was better to live and get by alone than have the weight of those who you couldn't truly rely on around. Perhaps that wasn't the best way of handling things, but that's just who I had come to be.

I had developed an obsession to watching old slasher films, which eventually led to me becoming obsessed with crime shows, and serial killer documentaries. Recently the news was reporting on a series of murders in the next town over. Apparently the killer dressed in a father death costume, adorned with the commonly known white mask with a shrieking expression. It was a halloween costume that really took off last year. Everyone was buying it. After all it was based off of a famous horror movie. I'm not sure what came over me, but I became especially obsessed with this. I even started working on art pieces of the killer. Eventually he was given the name Ghostface.
"Ghostface," I'd say his name at night, having the oddest yet most satisfying maladaptive dreams of him. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be like him? Not a care in the world. Just hack and slash your way through life, cutting out all the most problematic people? Or better yet...cutting yourself out.
I had been suffering from severe depression for the majority of my life. For as long as I could remember infact. I had a couple of moments in the passed year where I almost attempted to end it all, yet something always drew me back into life. I always ended up putting the bottle of pills back in the cabinet, never cut deep enough to let the blood drain, always stepped away from the ledge at the last minute. And yet it was never because of anyone. It was only ever my own choice. Life itself was like an opressive, abusive partner to me. Life had never shown me love or a reason worth living for it. Maybe that's why I became so obsessed with killers. Especially this one.

It was late in the eveing. My insomnia was kicking in again. I went downstairs for a glass of water. I came back up the stairs and went to use the bathroom down the hall form my room, and upon entering I noticed the window was open. This wasn't completely unusual as occasionally I liked leaving it open to get fresh air in the upstairs hall in this stuffy old house. However I couldn't rember having done that today. My tiredness beginning to kick in though, I shrugged it off. I closed the window and walked back to my room. Another thing was off upon entering. My computer monitor was on now, and the screen was where I had left it, on my art piece I had continued working on of the Ghostface killer. I felt jovial with this work while creating it. The killers tactics were that after watching the house of his next victim over a certain period of time, he would proceed to call them, toying with the victim. He'd ask, "what's your favorite scary movie?" I drew the infamous killer holding a knife in one hand while his other made the 'call me' symbol.
Forgetting the strange situation I found myself in. I chuckled a bit at my own work. I turned and looked at my relfection in my full length mirror that stood beside my bed. I had gotten thinner, I thought to myself. One of my hands trailed up to my face, and I breathed a side. "maybe soon..." I said softly out loud, not finishing my sentence, but knowing what I meant by soon. Perhaps soon I would attempt to end it all again. However I knew I would likely fail.
I was snapped out of my hazy thought however when I heard the unmistakable sound of the floor boards in the hall creaking. I had only been in this house a mere two months, but knew exactly where the floor creaked upon stepping. I actively tried avoiding those spots in the home at night because they were simply unpleasant to step over. The more I thought on the sound, the more my heartbeat began to race, grasping the situation I began realizing I could be in. I slowly turned myself around to face the door, feeling as though I had turned to ice. There, in the door way that connected my room to the hall, stood a man dressed in black. A mask, white, with a shrieking expression. There before me stood the one and only Ghostface.