For Your Attention. (Yandere x reader)

He Chose "Life." (True Ending)

The sirens were getting louder as the teens stood in the basement. The atmosphere of the room was thick with fear and uncertainty. Brandon pushed the knife closer to (Y/n)'s throat with every second. She didn't dare move, but she was switching her gaze from each of her friends and captor's friends.

Brandon was rather conflicted. On one hand, he could give up the whole thing and run away into the woods. He could continue living, having known that he couldn't have done anything else, and moved on with his life as they suffered from the PTSD. Or, he could turn himself in, and possible get out later on to torment them in the future. Upon thinking further into his two options, he was slowly beginning to realize that he had no true reason to doing any of this. She didn't love him, she was never going to love him, he had committed a crime for seemingly nothing and this was all... pointless. He didn't love Genevieve, and in the end he didn't truly gain anything from doing this. His plan failed.

~

But really, what did he care?

He didn't need reason, he just wanted to get her attention. All of this, was for her attention. He wanted to make then miserable- miserable for making him go insane and obsess over someone who doesnt love him. 'Thats it! He thought. 'It's all their fault! This is a revenge story...' He didn't truly believe himself, but it was enough to push him towards a decision.

"Alright..." He chuckled. "I see what I have to do now..." A sinister smile sneaked its way onto his face as he peered over the faces of the terrified teens. He lowered the knife, but before anyone could react he pushed (Y/n) off the platform. She yelled as she fell straight onto her right arm, her hands were still tied. An audible crack was heard throughout the silent basement and Brandon chuckled. "So long, suckers!" He aimed the knife at Jackson. "And fuck you, Jacky boy!" He laughed out before throwing the knife at him. Jackson's eyes widened as he tries to roll out of the way, but it managed to slice his arm. He yelled out, now bleeding in three places, although the new cut was small.

"BRANDON!" Gio yelled out as he watched the red haired male made a dash for the back door. Through his pain, Jackson rose and tried to walk over to (Y/n), who was crying due to the fact that her arm was more than likely broken. Beth ran over to Genevieve who was sobbing in the corner, and began to undo her binds. Conner was staring at Gio as tears streamed down both of their faces.

"I'm... I'm so sorry Connor." He softly spoke before he collapsed onto the floor and cried into his hands. Chris and Allsion tried to help (Y/n) and Jackson up as the two were severely injured.

The sound of the sirens increased as Brandon ran to the back door, nothing was stopping him. He felt so free, like nothing could stop him from running away. He swung the back door open and leaped out, running across his backyard and hopping the fence before disappearing into the forest.

-1 year later-

The group of teens sat in the courtroom as the judge read over the news report. "As of June 17th, the body of Brandon Skitz has been found in Portman's River, and appeares to have been deceased for a few months prior to the discovery." The woman looked up to the room of the teens and their families as they all stood in shock. "I know this news will be taken in many different ways, but as of right now this closes the case, and you are all free to live your lives without any worry of him coming back in the future. You may dicuss whether or not you want to move back to your homes with your social workers." Everyone stood still, unable to move.

After Brandon fled the scene, the teens were taken to the hospital and their wounds were tended to. Jocelyn, Brandon's mother, had been found dead in her room on the night he ran away. The group was placed in a Witness Protection Program of sorts, as they were moved into different areas of the state as the authorities searched for Brandon. They changed their names, and finished the school year from wherever their family stayed. Most of them didn't keep in contact, as they needed time to process what had happened to them, and quietly recover from their wounds.