The Host is mad... (Hostiplier X Reader)

Chapter 1 - I'm in an asylum?!

Y/N POV:

I groggily opened my eyes to an incredibly loud banging on my door, but one thing confused me, I could see nothing but white. White walls, white ceiling, white clothes, white everything. I was immensely confused as to why I wasn't asleep in my bed in my own home, sleeping until noon and then dragging myself off to work. I concentrated on trying to remember what had happened to land me here and I suddenly remembered everything, the night, the court case, and my judgment.

-Flashback-

That night, I had been out drinking with a few friends and I think I had, had a few too many and stumbled out of the bar towards my apartment. After a few minutes of walking, a man approached me and asked me if I needed any assistance getting to where I needed to be, I kindly refused his offer and told him that I was a strong, independent (man/woman) and could do it myself. Bad idea, the man then put a cloth over my nose and mouth and I could've only presumed it was covered in chloroform. I then started to feel a bit woozy and passed out in his arms, I didn't put up much of a fight as I was already under the influence of alcohol.

When I eventually woke up, I was horrified. Bodies that were drowning in blood and looked horribly mutilated laid all around me. I looked down at myself and almost screamed, I was covered in blood, with a sharp knife covered in dried blood in my right hand and a scrunched up piece of paper in my left. I opened the paper and read the note:

'(Y/N), I presume you've woken up. Well, how do you like your surprise? Oh, and don't worry about calling the cops, they're already on their way to get you. Good luck in court (Y/N).'

I knew then that there was no escape from that situation and I just had to accept my fate. That mystery person had somehow expertly pinned a mass genocide on me as I was sat in a room full of blood, surrounded by about 30 bodies. How he did it or why, I'd rather not know, but I knew at that point that it was all downhill from there.

Two weeks later, I was still in a prison cell as I waited for my trial date to come. When it did, I was an absolute mess, my family had disowned me, my friends were terrified of me and I was completely devastated. I curled up in the corner of my cell and cursed my drunken idiocy. About two hours later, armed guards came to take me to court. I reluctantly stepped out of the cell and followed the guards to the court hall. When I was called by the judge to step forward, I did so. I knew trying to convince them that I wasn't guilty was completely pointless, so, when I was asked whether or not I was guilty, all I said was one word.

"Guilty." This was one of the hardest word to ever say, and I did so with my head hung low and my eyes on the verge of letting the tears I was trying so hard to hold back, fall. Once I had uttered that word, my fate was decided, I was to spend the rest of my life in Broadmoor psychiatric ward for the criminally insane. I knew my life was spiraling way out of control and there was nothing I could do except cry and hope that I wouldn't end up actually insane...

-Back to the room-

Just as I finished collecting my thoughts, the sound of more harsh knocks reverberated in my ears, alerting me that someone was really trying to get my attention.

"(Y/N)! Here's your food." I heard as one of the guards harshly shoved a tray of bread and water through a slot in my door. I wasn't trusted yet to go out and eat with the others in the cafeteria so the guards had to deliver the food to me. I hoped that I would be allowed to go out soon, as I felt as though I would actually go insane if I was forced to stay in this cage they called a room. There was barely enough room for a bed and a small chest of drawers, I had to walk sideways to get in between them.

Once I had finished eating my bread, I paced up and down the narrow space in my room, thinking about how I could possibly escape from Broadmoor. Then I had an idea, what if I used a small piece of metal from my room and picked the lock on my door. The only problem was that the door was quite heavily reinforced so it would take multiple attempts and nights to even get close to cracking the lock.

-Multiple nights later-

The same thing repeated everyday. Wake up, eat, pace, eat, wait for the night to come, and then attempt to crack the lock. I had repeated this process, I would guess, for about five days and four nights. Today would be the fifth night and the night that I was finally expecting to crack the lock on this door. I could feel my sanity slipping more and more each night longer that it took me to crack the lock.

Once I had waited for the day guards to leave and to hear the loud clunk of each lock fastening simultaneously, I set to work at the lock once more, determined to get it open tonight. After about two hours of relentlessly working on the lock, I heard a moderately loud clunk and the lock swung open.

'Yes! Well done (Y/N)!' I thought to myself, extremely proud of myself for actually managing to open that pain in the ass lock. I pushed open my heavy door as quietly as I could considering it was made of heavy iron. I snuck through the small gap I had made in the door and set off to explore some more of this dreadful asylum.

As I headed through the identical hallways, I heard the moans, screams and pleads of the other patients in here. One stuck out in particular to me, it was a man that seemed to be having an angry conversation with himself. I was interested by this so I decided to listen and watch through the small window in the door.

The green haired male, who I believed had MPD, was having an argument between 'Jack' and 'Anti'. They seemed to be constantly switching between who was in control, Jack seemed to be really upset, whilst Anti seemed as though he was going to blow a blood vessel at how angry he was. They were arguing over the fact that a person named 'Host' was going to come and get them because Anti had done something to anger him.

I felt really bad watching this so I decided to open the lock to their room and quietly slip in, hopefully unnoticed. Once I was in, I stood in a dark corner and tried to stay as still and quiet as possible until they'd finished. But, just as they were going to finish arguing, Anti gained control again and looked straight at me.

"Who's there?" He said, venom lacing his words. I tried to hold my breath, but it was too late. Anti had already shot up, and grabbed me by my shoulders. I squeezed my eyes closed and hoped that he wouldn't hurt me.

"I'll ask you again," He continued angrily, I could now just about pickup an Irish accent in his voice, "Who are you and why are you in our room?" I could tell that he was getting impatient and it probably wasn't a good idea to keep him waiting any longer than he already had.

"I'm (Y-Y/N)" I replied shakily, avoiding looking into his eyes. I really didn't want to make him mad again, as I figured I would probably end up in a bad situation. Once I had told Anti who I was, his facial features softened and I presumed Jack was in control now. I asked if it was Jack and he looked stunned, he then dropped me and backed away, he looked absolutely terrified.

"What's wrong?" I asked him. Confused as to why he got scared all of a sudden, the only response I got was him shushing and telling me to listen. I did as told and listened carefully, at first, I couldn't hear anything unusual, but then I heard it. Crying. I asked Jack or Anti, I couldn't tell which at that point, what was so unusual about someone crying. I could usually hear someone crying at certain points during the day, although, I have to admit that this crying did sound a bit different. Plus a lot further away than I thought all of the patients rooms were. This crying sounded sort of maniacal or happy? Now I was officially freaked out, I looked back at the male, awaiting an answer. The only thing he said to me were the words:

"The Host, he's back."