Experiments:Yandere!Assorted Characters x Reader

Chapter 7: Where?

You wake up to darkness.

Not complete darkness, anyways. A lightbulb above your head sporadically shows your surroundings. From what you can make out - though, truthfully, your eyes are having a hard time adjusting to the light that comes on every thirty seconds - you're on a bed. No, not a bed. It seems to be a hammock combined with a mattress. (F/C) sheer curtains surround your resting place. The pillows are large, fluffy, and huggable, and the blanket is warm and cuddly.

You grab the curtain and slowly pull it to the side, revealing the rest of the room. The fact that, as you open the curtains, the rest of the lights in the room come on does not escape you. Some censor or maybe even security camera is definitely being used. Wonderful.

The ceiling is covered in dark purple and pink cloth, much of the same material the curtain is made of. Fairy lights seem to have been weaved in, giving you the impression of a starry night. Walls are painted dark greens, blues, browns, and reds. This, along with the dark green carpeting, leads you to believe you're supposed to be in a rainforest. The closet is painted over so well, you barely even notice it. The dresser is dark wood, maybe mahogany? Who knows, you aren't an expert.

All in all, a nice room. No windows, computers, TVs, or doors. You seem completely boxed in, and that does not sit well with you. You placed a foot on the floor, the feel of 'grass' beneath your feet a small comfort. It gives you something to feel, to hold on to in a way, and that makes you feel better for a reason you can't quiet name. A fan is whirring gently in the background, but you can't figure out from where. It helps much the same way the carpet does, so you decide not to question it too much at the moment.

You finally stand firmly on the floor, the bed swinging softly from your movement. The full lightbulbs are covered by the fabric, casting pink and purple lights on your skin. Speaking of skin, you finally look at yourself.

You're wearing a white dress with a brown corset. The sleeves are long and flow softly in the artificial breeze. Both the arms and skirt are covered in a similar material to the curtain and ceiling, this time in white. The torso, as near as you can figure, is actually silk. Maybe a silk-cotton blend. . . But, it actually feels more like velvet either way.

The skirt is long, nearly reaching the floor. As you're examining the outfit, you realize it; this is not what you were wearing when you fell asleep. You don't even own anything like this!

You shudder, gripping your arms to tree and keep from vomiting. You stumble towards the wall, running into it and sliding down to the floor. Your nose hurts, nice job there, your head pounding and stomach twisted into knots.

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How long you sit there, you can't say. The initial panic of waking up somewhere you don't know, in clothes you don't own, has faded enough for you to release your arms. The bruising pain has long since left you, and you give your arms a few shakes to try and get the blood flowing. Rolling up both of the sleeves, you examine your arms. Red seeps from five indents on either arms. That's not what chills your bones, though - a message is carved into your skin, one you had woken up many a night in fear of seeing. The words, 'Forever Mine' are still an angry red, the surrounding area a livid pink.

You've been so on edge recently, with Sans and Pap and Frisk and the general 'im gonna die'-ness of the whole situation, sleep has been increasingly hard to find. You're shaking, sweating, crying, this is ridiculous! What did you do to be in this situation?!

You curl back up into your ball, cover your head as best you can with your arms - one of which now hurts like hell - and scream.

Does the screeching help? Well, you keep going until your throat is bleeding and you can barely use your throat, which takes what feels like several hours, and nothing comes of it. Does it make you feel better? You're in pain, but you feel a tad bit more in control, so you guess it does. Mostly, though, you hurt. The door is locked, there's no bathroom, no water, and you're legitimately considering hanging yourself with the curtains. Though, that would bring more pain to your poor throat, so maybe not.

After screeching so long, you're exhausted. You cough bitterly onto the carpet before flopping down. Now that the panic is gone, you can think a bit more clearly. It's not like Alphys can't fix your new 'tattoo', and at least you're not missing a finger - a quick check confirms this.

You're probing your mouth with your tongue, trying to find the precise point of bleeding, when you realize one of your teeth are missing. The wound feels dried, so it can't have been that recently. How long have you been here? How long does it take mouth bleeding to stop? Where are you?

That's as much as you can handle for one day. You vomit, shakily move a few feet away, and pass out on the floor.

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You're moving. The lights against your eye lids are softer than earlier, though the gentle movements still feeling like a 7.8 earthquake.

As you feel the softness of the bed under your body pull you closer, hesitant hands lingering for longer than necessary, you crack open your eyes. You know this one - god, you know this one. If anyone had asked two months are so prior if this was possible, you'd have laughed and set them straight. But now?

"Poor thing, you've made a mess," a soft voice coos. You refuse to open your eyes again - when had you closed them? - refuse to accept the reality of your situation. "I'll be nice, my dear, and not punish you. After all, you didn't know that was against the rules." You were being spoken to like a child, but you weren't in a position to argue. "I won't get strict with you just yet, alright?" A feeble nod, and you're tucked into bed. Every movement, every touch, makes you want to lash out and attack. Why you're feeling so panicked, you can't quiet say. A kiss is placed on your forehead, and the tears came out faster. You tried to hide under the blanket, tried to pass out, tried anything you could to run away - even if it was just mentally.

You'd tuned out the words being spoken to you, but the hands cupping your cheeks, the kisses littering your face, fingers wiping away your tears, you can't ignore that.

Can you?

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(A/N: So, where are you? How long will you survive? Who are you with? I have no idea, so y'all should make a vote in the comments. That would be nice.)