Blind

8.2K 330 16
                                    

I did not proof read year so enjoy all the typos until I get home later so I can fix as many of them as I can. Drink water my friends!

Edgar was drenched in blood. He had gotten a job, one that he had never gotten before, but he was a slave to his work. He always had been. So he did it, no questions asked, and he killed the chairmen of a rival company. He was an old man, but unlike how the media portrayed him, he was a kind and gentle man, not at all the capitalist pig people claimed him to be. He had three children—four, eight, and thirteen—and a loving wife.

Edgar showed up at his gated mansion in the evening, a little damp because of the rain, claiming that his car broke down. The man and his wife did not even question how he got passed the front gate, they just welcomed him inside. Their kindness blinded them. They were worried about him, afraid he would get a cold. They invited him to dinner, which he ate. The curious children would look at him, the youngest one smiling sweetly—her face slightly messy from eating.

After dinner, he was invited to stay over. The chairman's wife said the towing company wouldn't be able to help him until the storm passed over.

Edgar played with the children, smiling as they showed him last year's Christmas presents. They didn't know that they would loss their father that night.

Just as planned, Edgar brutally murdered the chairman as he stood in the kitchen. He had woken up in the middle of the night for a glass of water.

Everyone else was asleep, but their chairmen was restless.

"I can't help but think something bad is going to happen tonight." Was what he said. "It's nothing to worry about though..."

Edgar grabbed a kitchen knife while the poor man's back was turned, and stabbed him with it multiple times and then he left. The wife and the children knew his face, but did that really matter? Edgar had a feeling that it didn't.

He drove home in his perfectly fine car.

He drove to an old and rundown apartment complex. It was a cheap little apartment with all his necessities that was located in a bad neighborhood. He walked passed a group of miscreant teens, none of them bothered by his drenched body or the metallic smell.

He walked up the stairs, all the way to the third floor, and he placed his key into the door, ready to shower and fall asleep on his ratty little futon.

But when he opened the door, he was met with a nice clean house. There was a shoe rack by the door with a woman's shoes on them as well as his own. He cautiously walked into the house, his hand over his hip where his concealed gun was.

He could smell food and he could hear it sizzling. He could hear humming, a sound that he loved. He couldn't recall why he loved it though.

He walked into the living room, looking at the sofa and the tv. Even with all the money that he had, he hated spending it on things like that. His apartment never had things like. There was a shelf full of board games that he hated playing and pictures of a blank faced woman and him. In those pictures was a look he had never imagined on his face. His eyes sparkled in those pictures, his smile looked real. It didn't look like him at all.

He finally got to the kitchen, standing there by the stove was a women. She hummed while she cooked, swaying her hips to an imaginary beat.

"Welcome home, Eddy." She said, her voice sweeter than anything he had every heard. "I'm making your favorite." She said, chuckling.

She turned around, presumably to greet him, and when her eyes met his...

It was her, his wife, his (y/n).

She stumbled back at the sight of him, bumping into the stove and knocking the pan of sizzling food onto the ground.
She burned her hand on the eye, hot oil splashing on his forearm as the pan flipped. She screamed in pain as she looked at him in fear.

His chest tightened. For the first time in years, he felt genuine fear. Fear for her safety, and fear for something else too.

"Eddy, what—what happened!" She said, holding her burned hand. She scurried over to the sink, turning on the tap to run cold water over it.

Edgar took a step forward, his mind telling him to help you, to protect you. "Let me help you. Use room temp water—"

"Stay back!" She said. "Please don't come any..." she sniffled. "Don't come any closer."

There was no love in the way she looked at him, none at all. Or maybe there was, but it was masked with an immense amount of hurt and fear. He couldn't stand it.

"Please let me help you..." he said. His eyes stung. This was different than when he cried in joy. His voice was stuck in his throat, his chest hurt. He wanted to die, he wanted to repent.

"Please." He pleaded. "I'll do anything—"

And then he opened his eyes.

The room was dark, dimly lit by the streetlight outside. Next to him was you, staring at him with worry. He felt your warm hand on his cheek.

The life that he lived before was not as gruesome. He was quick and the crimes he committed would at most, make you feel disgust, such as bribery and blackmail. He often used to beat people till they were just an inch away from death, but killing was a rarity. He destroyed businesses, families, livelihoods, just so he could flourish—so that the company he worked for could flourish.

But you, life with you was so much better than the pursuit for money and success. When he was with you, he found it easier to smile—to feel fulfilled.

For once in his life, he was satisfied.

And that's why he'd do anything to keep you by his side.

However, from the looks of it, from the sweet tender look on your face, he didn't have to do much did he?

You combed you fingers through his hair. Not saying a word, Edgar wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest. You gave an airy laugh, snuggling him back.

"You love me right?" He asked, his voice just above a whisper.

"Always." You said.

Though he wasn't sure if what you were saying was fully true. He understood completely that you probably wouldn't love him if you saw the atrocities he committed, but for now he would take your words as if they were holy scripture.

He would believe them blindly.

My Yandere Husband (yandere x reader)Where stories live. Discover now