Pain | Masochistic Yandere x reader

-Chapter 2-

"This, young maiden, is for you. To be passed down woman to maiden and forever more. One day you will pass down this dagger as the gift of blossoming youth, engraved with roses and thorns. Keep this dear to your heart little doll, you never know when the time comes that you will need its service. It has the blessing of the angels and in desperate times, it will serve you faithfully till the end. Then you can pass it on to the next maiden, your own daughter"

"Yes dear mother. Let us be safe from all harm and let us not dare do brutish acts unless death is at the end of our deathbed."

"Till death do us part."

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"This dagger of mine has not aged since the day I received it from my own mother. Never did I ever pass it down to my own descendants, how bittersweet. To be cursed to only bear daughters feeding off my own blood, selfishly holding onto the angels blessing. Tracing my finger over a sharp blade that could protect me, could kill me. But all I can do is watch as time passes and the sun falls on the faces of porcelain dolls that sit patiently for a hundred years and a hundred years more. Hmm..
It seems I need to change up the cards.. let us begin, shall we?"

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Awaking from your slumber you shivered as a breeze tickled your cheek. The windows light curtains blew back and forth in the direction of the sweet sun washed breeze. Vision blurring from the bright light, you rub your eyes then squint noticing something out of place— The window was not open last night, you could of sworn you had shut- and even locked it. You peer with curious eyes, making your way over to the windowsill. Looking out the window the street was quiet, the Victorian architecture always was gorgeous to stare at. The houses were all old and carried such a timeless history to them, you loved it. The house you live in had been the house you had lived all your life. It was passed down generation to generation, before it was your mothers, it was your grandmothers. You began to reminisce about the day your mother showed you your heritage, she grabbed a beat up box from the attic which remained dusty even when dusted. Carefully opening the box, you could remember how it was full of pictures with jewelry and other personal possessions. The pictures showed their age; yellowed and the frame dirtied after being stowed away not seeing the light till that moment. The images looked to be more than over a hundred years old in age and your mother agreed when you had stated it. The pictures showed a women and young girls, presumably the daughters of said women sat on ottomans and velvet red chairs, dressed in fancy chiffon and corsets. Their hair curled and a rouge tint applied on their little lips, faces framed with bows and bonnets— They all looked like porcelain dolls, so fragile and quaint. The pictures stories however, were gone with time. Your mother had lost her own mother at a young age,. So the heritage and history of the family faded with your grandmother to the grave, since your mother remembered so little.
Finally snapping out of your daze you remember that your mother was hoping for you to come give her some company at the hospital again. You couldn't blame her as the hospital was dull and eerie, and you would hate going alone also— especially because of past traumas.. With memories like those it made your stomach pang with despair. It felt like your mother would never step through the door of this old Victorian house again.

Getting ready to take your leave towards the hospital, you were wondering if Itami would make an appearance. Would he be awaiting you in the solitude coloured waiting room? His stupid grin and chuckle rung through your head at least a thousand times.
Shivering at the thought you try to shake off the memories but they refused to leave your pitiful head space. There was something odd about that man, it was as if you had a connection to him? Yet, you had never seen him before yesterday at the hospital.
That was the scary part about it all. Him, himself,  was as equally unsettling as the familiar feeling that engulfed you. How could someone feel so familiar yet you had never seen them before?