Predator (DWT x OC)

16

TW// Descriptions of depressive and suicidal thoughts, self harm and trauma related episodes/flashbacks.

I could swear I hear Tommy's voice. 

I wobble my way down the hallway, spreading my palm flat against the hard wood to keep me upright. I near the end of the hallway, the hushed voices growing louder and louder, rounding the corner, I walk into a living room packed with every citizen of this world that we know of. Except for one very notable exception. 

Fundy.

The room stills, everyone looking up, eyes following me as I limp unsteadily to the couch, gently lowering myself down. My skin crawls under their intense stares, prickling at the tension that hangs heavily in the air. 

"What's going on?" I ask tersely, picking my feet up and tucking them underneath me. No one says anything, eyes flicking nervously between each other. Wilbur and Niki are squeezed onto one of the big armchairs, Dream sat in the other, Eret, George and Sapnap are sat on stools at the bench, and Tommy and Tubbo on the back wall. I glare expectantly at Wilbur, who's usually neat uniform is crumpled, creases folding through blue and white stripes, belt worn and faded, hat no where to be seen. He nervously breaks his gaze away from me, instead looking a Dream, who sits rigidly in his chair, mask completely shielding his face, dressed in a deep green crewneck and thick black pants. 

Dream clears his throat. "We still haven't found Fundy." 

My heart sinks. I never feel safe anymore, the constant worry that he can get me burying itself into my head. He invaded my house, my home, and destroyed the last place I felt safe. I scream myself awake with nightmares about him being downstairs, visions of him going through my window. I know I'll never be able to sleep soundly again until we know where he is. Which we don't.

"So uh... it's not safe for you to go back to your house." He finishes. I snap my head to stare at him. 

"I don't feel safe anywhere, so I may as well just go back home." I tell him. The truth is that I've been going insane in this house, because the bad memories are cemented into these walls, and bonded with the floor boards. And yes, the safe sanctuary that was my home has been shattered almost beyond repair, but it's still the house that I chose. 

"It's not safe Rosie, you can't go back and live there alone." He repeats, undeterred by my words. 

"I won't be alone, I'll have Niki." I protest, crossing my arms.

"No, Niki will stay in L'manburg until it's safe." He says flatly. Niki nods, face held tightly closed off. 

"So what is your point exactly?" I retort childishly, a flare of irritation heating up my face. 

"My point, is that you can't go back to your house until we have Fundy. So, we thought it might be best if you go back to L'manburg for the time being." He grits out, hands tightening over the handles of the armchair. Wilbur nods, and I can tell that Dream definitely does not think it would be best. But try arguing against the unmovable force that is Wilbur Soot and Tommyinnit, and you're always going to lose. 

Speaking of which, I'm impressed Tommy has remained quiet for so long. I look up to see him leaning against the window of the back wall next to Tubbo, uniforms in the same sorry state as Wilbur's, hats lopsided on their heads. 

"So you just decided for me?" I snap. After past events, I'd though we'd all learned our lesson about not letting me choose my own life. 

I guess not. 

"The other option is to stay with me here." Dream says, and I can hear a hint of hope in his voice. "But there's a lot more people in L'manburg to protect you, and Wilbur and everyone else decided that it was the best option." 

I sigh, rubbing my face tiredly with my hands. They're right, really, because if he broke in once, he can break in again, and L'manburg probably would be the safest option. I'm just exhausted though, far too tired of being forced around to places, of not being able to just live my life freely. But it's not their fault this time, it's Fundy's, so I take all that exhaustion, and that rage, and pour it all into my hatred of him. 

"Ok, I'll live in L'manburg." I accept quietly. I can see Dream deflate slightly, the way his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and he nods. 

"I know this isn't ideal Rosie, I know and I'm sorry, but I- we can't let you get hurt again. This is only until you're safe." He says. I shrug in response, before abruptly standing up and turning on my heel.

I stumble back to my room, fists tightening themselves into balls as I fight the hot stinging tears that threaten to spill out over my lashes. I fall face first onto the bed, burying my face into the soft pillows, wrapping my arms over the back of my head, trying to hide myself away. 

I am so so tired of this. I am so tired of the nightmares, and the constant fear, and the fucking pain that never goes away.

The sobs that escape me threaten to choke me, teardrops soaking the pillow as I fall apart. I have been holding on for so long, desperately to stop myself from breaking since the first day Dream took me. 

I can't keep myself together anymore. 

I let out a horrible, agonised wail, muffled by the pillow, as aching hurt seizes my chest. My fingernails claw into my scalp, as I try and tear away the horrible memories that are branded into my brain. That's the problem, they're branded there, scarring deeply and irreversibly, destroying my hope and happiness and love. I'm distracted by fleeting moments, a couple days, even weeks, when everything is ok and I always trick myself into thinking I've healed.

Then something goes and reopens the wounds, and I bleed out again. And again. And again. 

The wailing stops, cut off my my sharp intakes of breath as I try and get air into my lungs, pushing myself up unsteadily, tripping over my own feet as I stagger to the bathroom, vision swimming in salty tears. 

I turn on the tap, cupping my shaking hands and throwing the icy water onto my warm face. I freeze, my eyes catching the pink lines that stretch tightly over my forearms. And I just want to scream. 

I drop the the floor, raking my fingernails over my arms, trying to claw off those fucking things on my arms. I want them off me. I want every reminder of that piece of shit away from me. I don't even register the pain, as my arms turn red raw and inflamed, my nails too short to break the skin as I desperately tear at my flesh, trying to rip the lines off my forearms.

I can hear Fundy's voice echo around me, the cruel jeering words he taunted, with the awful look curled on his face. I start screaming again, trying the drown the sound of him out, slamming my balled up fists over my ears as blood curdling shrieks leave my mouth, tears pouring down my cheeks. 

My heart has been torn open, over and over again, and this time I don't know if I can stop myself bleeding out, right here on this floor. 

And maybe I don't want to, either.

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A/N You know I kinda missed writing this type of angst because I feel this is when my writing is at it's strongest but god damn is it sad to do this to poor Rosemary. What we're going to explore in the next couple of chapters is her PTSD and trauma that results from everything she's been through, because I don't feel like I've properly and realistically addressed it, and as I've said, realism in Rosie's reactions and emotions is something I've really committed to being the focal point of this book. So, I guess strap yourselves in everyone. 

Also I was a bit unsure about what trigger warnings to put on this, so I tried to cover everything, but let me know if I missed one, or there's a more fitting one to put instead. 

Please remember to vote and comment, I really appreciate it, and it helps a lot!

I hope you enjoyed,

Oopsies x