Entrapped hearts [Yandere Cult X Reader]

Farmer

Alex

ME NEXT

(FLASHBACK)

I sat in my room, staring at yet another rejection letter that lay on my desk. Frustration welled up inside me as I leaned back into my chair, the weight of disappointment heavy upon my shoulders. 

Despite my perfect SAT score and flawless grades in every class, college acceptance letters continued to elude me.

I couldn't understand it. What more could I have done? What was missing?

The tension in the house had become palpable, my parents' uneasy glances and hushed conversations a constant reminder of my perceived failure. 

One day, they made a sudden decision to leave the house, citing the need to escape from the suffocating atmosphere of my despondency.

Before they left, they instructed me to open the door for the maintenance worker who was scheduled to check my room for something. Their abrupt departure left me feeling even more isolated, as if my struggles were too much for them to bear.

As I lay in my bed, consumed by a sense of desolation, a knock on the door jolted me out of my stupor. Slowly, I raised myself up and cast off the blanket that had become my refuge. With a heavy heart, I approached the door, my movements sluggish with the weight of my despair.

As I swung the door open, I was met with a sight that nearly took my breath away. Standing before me was a man of imposing stature, his towering presence filling the doorway. Despite the roughness of his hands, marred by calluses and scars, his face possessed a striking beauty, like something out of a magazine.

"Hey there, you must be Alex," he greeted me with a warm, disarming smile. I felt a flush of embarrassment creep into my cheeks as I realized I had been staring.

"Uh... yeah... come in," I mumbled awkwardly, stepping aside to allow him entry. His smile widened as he crossed the threshold, and he leaned in close to me.

"Mind showing me your room?" he asked gently, and I felt my face flush even hotter as I covered it with my hands, the heat of embarrassment burning through me.

I led him into my room, feeling a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach as he stepped inside and made his way to my closet.

"Um... what exactly are you fixing?" I asked, my attempt to sound casual falling flat.

"For now, I'm just checking out your crawl space," he replied, his voice calm and composed.

"I have a crawl space?" I muttered to myself in disbelief as he pulled out a flashlight and began his inspection. After a few minutes of him peering into the darkness, he spoke again.

"You know, your parents have said a lot about you," he said, his tone thoughtful.

"Oh really?" I replied, rolling my eyes at the thought of my parents discussing me behind my back.

"No need to be so down about a few rejections. I've faced far too many in my time," he offered, his words striking a chord with me.

"Really? How old are you?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"20," he responded, surprising me with his youth.

"Really?" I echoed, taken aback by his admission.

After that, we engaged in conversation for a few minutes before he left. The next day, he returned with his toolbox to work on the kitchen sink. I tried to push down the strange feeling that washed over me whenever he was near, but it persisted, nagging at the corners of my mind.

Suddenly, he rose from his work and approached me as I sat on the couch, trying my best to ignore him.

"You know, your parents came by my house the other day," he mentioned, drawing my attention as I glanced up at him.

He stood there, his appearance rugged and unkempt, sweat glistening on his brow and dirt smudged across his clothes. 

His disheveled appearance lent him a rugged charm that was impossible to ignore, and I couldn't help but feel a flutter of unease mingled with something else stirring within me.

"What did they say?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of curiosity amidst the swirling emotions.

"Nothing, they just wanted to talk more about you," he replied casually, his tone nonchalant.

Weird.

After that, he resumed his work on the kitchen sink, occasionally stealing glances in my direction. Then, out of nowhere, my parents burst through the door.

"Alex, we found the cure to help you," my dad announced, and I lifted my head in confusion.

"You two are living together," my mom added, her words hitting me like a ton of bricks.

"Wait, what?" I exclaimed, disbelief coloring my voice.

"Well, you're nineteen, it's time for you to move out," my dad explained matter-of-factly.

"And with some stranger?" I protested, feeling panic rising within me.

"No, your new fiancé," my mom declared, her words sending shockwaves through my entire being.

Before I could even process what was happening, I was dragged out to his truck and driven all the way to his house.

"Get away from me!" I screamed, but my protests fell on deaf ears.

The next thing I knew, I was being forcefully knocked out. When I finally regained consciousness hours later, I found myself in a room that mirrored mine in every detail. 

The only difference? The man who had brought me here was sitting at the foot of the bed, his gaze fixed on me with chilling intensity.

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot, my name's Luther," he said, attempting to bridge the gap between us.

Despite his efforts, I remained wary, listening as he laid down a set of rules I was expected to follow. Eventually, I managed to escape his clutches, much to his evident fury. I spent a week on the run, hiding out until I finally made it back to my hometown and sought help from the police.

"Please, you have to help me. I've been kidnapped," I pleaded with the officer, desperation evident in my voice.

The officer paused for a moment, studying me carefully before motioning for me to sit down and wait. My heart raced as I prayed for someone, anyone, to come to my aid.

Suddenly, I saw Luther stride into the police station, his presence sending a shiver down my spine. He approached me with a concerned expression, his words dripping with false sincerity.

"Sweety, are you okay?" he asked, his tone sickeningly sweet.

Before I could even react, the officer standing behind him interjected, his voice firm and authoritative.

"Your husband seems to be experiencing some kind of mental episode," he stated matter-of-factly, leaving me stunned and bewildered by the sudden turn of events.