That Book. (Wally Darling AU's x reader!)

chapter 2 - page one

MAJOR WARNING FOR GORE, LIKE, I DISTURBED MYSELF.

so cutesy

😍 body deforming, and violence. Graphic writing!!!!

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“Wake up,” he whispers, and I stare at him confused. “Wake up, you are not alone- wake up!” He bellows, and I feel the world go red. I stare at him, a feeling of dread slumping my shoulders. “I am awake,” I grunt, and shift in his grasp.  “Wake up!” He cries, his shackled hands mold to my throat and press, cutting my air off. He shakes and shambles me, until he throws me to the ground, and a cry of pain leaves me before the world falls black.

I wake up with a jolt, and immediately a migraine pierces my head and I cry out, the pain unbearable.  I shift in my bed. My bed- I gasp, and quickly sit up. I tense, regretting my fast movements. I glance round, seeing my.. Room. I gaze around the dark space, it looks normal. But it feels almost liminal. I stand off my bed slowly, and am drawn to my bookshelf.

The book.

Did RF ever get it? I think to myself, and raise my hands to the bookshelf, slowly moving as if it were a puppeting session. I move the wooden plank that hides the book, and pull it out. My nail grazes something that makes a screech, but I ignore it. I hold the book, walking tenderly over to my desk and sitting in my chair.

I gulp.

There’s a weird trait to the book now.

What was once a lacy, mint green cover with golden emblems and pastel pink daisies is now tattered and slightly burned. But how? I think. There hasn’t been a fire. The gold cursive of the book looks almost melted and the tips of the dragged print are burnt, I can practically smell the house-fire, but this book hasn’t left its compartment in forever. Or, just for a few days.. I think.

An overwhelming urge courses through my trembling body, and with a hand that seems more than limp, I unlock the tiny lock with the key attached to the books’ bookmark, and open the book. I scan the page, looking for the words I left off on.

I feel a pressure on the back of my neck, sharp, cold, and hefty. Yet, it soothes me.

I smile faintly to myself, and begin to read.

[Narration for book]

‘-“Walter,” Yazmin cries, tugging and lashing at the purple tendrils that hold her wrists. “Walter, no!” She falls to her knees, the purple and metallic blue beneath her staining her robes. Walter ignores her, her sobbing, her screams, her agony, and keeps walking. “You said you loved me,” She yelps, squirming against the restraints with what little hope to live she has.

“I do love you,” Walter stops, but doesn’t face the crier. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Yazmin!” He stomps his way back, and Yazmin yells. Walter's face is disfigured, his mouth hangs as low and broken to his chest, it's wide open. His nose no longer points out, it dips in and is melted into his upper lip. His eyes are dragged out and expose his skull, his muscle tissue, and further.

Walter slams his hand against Yazmins throat, gagging her. He hurls her to the ground, and presses his knee against her abdomen. The extendedness of his fingers drag marks into her throat. “Yazmin,” Walter coals, as bitter as a broken engine. “I’m only doing this because I love you, oh, Yazmin. I love you, and so does he!” With a grin with sadistic, controlled delight, Walter kisses Yazmin.