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stellar-constellations · 5 months

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Star Patient: Chapter 5 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 12,000+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, current chapter, chapter 6, Chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

Andrew glided through the hospital corridors, taking the elevator to the pediatric branch. He really couldn’t care less about the kid, Hailey, but for some reason his favorite nurse just loved the little nuisance.

He felt a bit jealous. Does she like Hailey more than him?

Obviously, she does, considering how she had talked about the girl when they first met. He felt pretty annoyed. Did she spend more of her time and attention on the ill girl? Did she get to innocently hug her like that? If Andrew wasn’t so prideful, he’d definitely ask her for a hug.

Hell, he was really fighting with himself to ask now. Just a small quick hug, nothing bad! He wondered if he could genuinely pull that off. He wondered how she must feel inside his arms. Would she rest her head against his chest, or would she rather prefer resting it on his shoulder? Is she one of those people who cling onto you like their life depends on it, or was she someone who preferred soft and polite hugs? Would she be a long and affectionate hugger, or simple and sweet?

He put that thought in the back of his mind for now, rolling down the hallways to Hailey’s room. He didn’t bother to open the door, much like he did with (Y/N)’s room earlier, as he strolled in without a care.

Hailey laid in her bed, her eyes glued to some book (Y/N) got her, before she glanced at him. Her eyes raised, surprised to see the pale man again.

“Andrew, was it?” she questioned, her voice sounding better from yesterday. “What are you doing here?”

“(Y/N) told me to check on you.” He stated bluntly.

“(Y/N)? Is she here?” Hailey questioned, a smile growing on her face. “I haven’t seen her tonight! I thought she was off work?”

Andrew was about to open his mouth and say (Y/N) was, before remembering how the nurse didn’t want the girl to know about her condition.

“Uh, no…” he muttered, looking away. “She… wanted me to get into books to distract myself… so she told me to go to you for any books.” He lied.

“So you do have an interest in books after all.” Hailey smiled. “You must have an interest in nurse (Y/N) too, huh?” Hailey smirked teasingly.

“…What are you getting at?” Andrew questioned, resisting the urge to glare at the sick girl.

How the hell did this kid know? Andrew questioned to him.

“It’s very obvious.” She smiled. “See, if I had a past life, I’m sure I was like a cupid!”

“Uh, yeah. Sure, kid.” He spoke, brushing off the comment as he decided not to entertain nor deny the idea.

“I’m very serious.” Hailey re-enforced. “I can see it in your eyes! You’re invested in her!”

Who is this brat… Andrew thought, annoyed but intrigued (much to his dismay).

“You know, I’ve known her ever since she came here. I know her type of men.” Hailey lied, a mischievous smirk growing on her face.

“…You do?” Andrew muttered, now he was unashamedly interested.

“I could tell you…” she hummed, trailing off. “Or not.”

Andrew looked hesitant, before letting out a sigh. He rolled his chair up to her bedside, glancing down at her lap where her open book rested.

The book she got from (Y/N)…

God, everything just seems to trace back to that woman, huh? No matter what, everything he sees and hears all traces back to her, even outside of the hospital people are attracted to her (even if the reasons could be malicious). It’s almost pathetic how hooked he is on her, despite not even knowing her for a week. It’s almost scary how everyone seems to be attracted to the girl, she just had an aura that everyone was aware of and drawn to.

He could look at something stupid like his shoes and remember her footsteps as she walked with him to the surgery room. He could remember her hands on his face, chest, wrist, looking all around and checking his condition, his bandages, his vitals. He could look at his bedsheets and remember her hands tucking him in for bed… and imagine things he’d rather not envision for a woman he just met.

Yeah, back in the hatch those thoughts go.

“Could you just tell me?” he huffed, trying to sound as uninterested as possible despite asking for this, rather impatiently at that.

“Well? Do you like her?” Hailey questioned.

Andrew took the moment to think to himself. Yeah, she was a pretty nice nurse, and she knew her stuff despite specializing in pediatrics; though he shouldn’t be surprised, children are basically just the same anatomy as adults, just smaller in size.

She had a nice voice, and she somehow balanced between playful and professional, perhaps that’s practiced for pediatrics to make kids feel comfortable yet still hold authority.

She had a cute smile, and her eyes were pretty to look into. He liked looking at her while she worked, sometimes she’d even bite her lip or stick her tongue out to remind herself to concentrate. She looked like an angel laying on that white hospital bed. Even in pain, she still looked pretty.

He wondered how she was outside of the hospital. She was a human too, how did she act with her friends, or her family? How did she act alone? Was she single? Did she have a boyfriend, or did she prefer girls? Would she take interest in him? Could she see him as a potential partner?

Fuck. Yeah, he definitely liked her.

“Just a little…” he muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

This feels weird (and degrading, in a sense) to be relying on a sick kid for love advice.

“So you admit it?” she smiled.

“Are you gonna tell me or not?” Andrew growled.

By now, Hailey was no longer fearful or anxious of Andrew. Andrew was just a lovesick puppy hopelessly enamored with her favorite nurse, in her eyes at least. She learned that expression from her books.

“No.” Hailey smiled, picking up her book.

“Why?” Andrew questioned, feeling a little betrayed that she made him admit his feelings only to not hold onto their deal.

“Because I lied.” Hailey smiled. “I don’t know her type.”

“Brat…” Andrew muttered under his breath, unashamed to be talking smack in front of a dying kid.

He could’ve said worse, but it’s quite mean to talk ill to a sick child, especially in front of them. Besides, (Y/N) wouldn’t like it if she found out.

“So, books?” Hailey hummed, getting back to her reading. “This book I’m reading right now is pretty good. I can read it to you.” She suggested.

“No…” he grumbled, still a little upset that he was tricked.

He’ll let her lying slide. Kids will be kids, let them have their fun.

“How about I read it to you instead?” Andrew suggested.

He didn’t want her reading to him; he was the adult, not her. Besides, her voice sounds hoarse and struggling, he’d rather him read it to her than have the kid push herself—not because he’s soft or anything, but because (Y/N) would be upset.

Hailey seemed to ponder the idea, before handing over the book to him.

“Just don’t crease the pages.” Hailey spoke.

“Got it.” Andrew hummed, looking at the page she was originally reading.

He started at the beginning of the page, reading a bit wonky at first, before he started to get into the narration. The words started to flow more smoothly, and he even took pauses for dramatic effect at the intense moments that felt like they needed a pause to sink in.

One chapter became two, and two became four. He was pretty interested in the story, makes sense considering it was his (Y/N) who got the story, of course she’d have immaculate taste too.

He read until his throat went dry, the tip of his tongue aching from all the pronunciations. He looked up from the book to see Hailey asleep.

Did she get bored? Andrew thought, a little offended that she fell asleep at the book (Y/N) gave her instead of giving it to him, especially when he was kind enough to read it to her.

Maybe she just liked his voice? It’s perfect for listening to. His voice wasn’t quiet, but it wasn’t loud either, like a polite demand for attention or to respect his authority. It was deep, but not too deep, with a slight rasp from smoking. He was good at projecting his voice so others could listen to him—well, everyone except Ashley, really.

Thinking of Ashley, where is she? She was sure acting weird today. Something about the demon’s vision she saw in her dream. She also described (Y/N)’s appearance despite not even knowing the nurse; he couldn’t recall any moment they had interacted.

Andrew took a white bookmark that laid on her bedside table, placing it on the page he stopped reading on. He closed the book, placing it down on Hailey’s bedside. He wheeled out of the room, making his way back to the elevators.

He entered the elevator, pressing the button for the emergency branch, waiting for the doors to re-open. The metal shutters opened and he rolled out, going back to (Y/N)’s room.

He made it, opening the door and entering without bothering to knock. (Y/N) laid in the hospital bed, her eyes closed as she appeared to be sleeping.

Damn… Andrew thought, disappointed. I was hoping to talk to her.

He doesn’t know what he would’ve talked about, but he was hoping she’d start the conversation. He wanted to get closer to her, emotionally and physically.

Andrew debated what he should do, before finally giving in, rolling his wheelchair up to her side. He observed her sleeping face, blissfully unaware of his presence as she slept. Her hair was a little messy, perhaps from sleeping or from the attack earlier. Her skin was a bit paler than usual, perhaps from shock or blood loss. She had more prominent bags under her eyes than usual, resting heavily under her closed eyes.

He wondered who attacked her, and why. Was it a crazy ex boyfriend? Some stalker? A jealous friend? Someone suffering under delusions? He wondered what happened.

He had an idea, though he was scared to ponder on it.

Instead of thinking about it, he distracted himself. He looked down at her bandaged arm, trailing his hands down to her wrists, and to her fingernails.

Her nails were strangely clean. They were polished and trimmed, which makes sense considering nurses need to have good hygiene, especially so they don’t transfer bacteria or accidentally infect patients. They looked like they had been scrubbed squeaky clean recently, not even a trace of dirt under her nails.

Her hands looked small compared to his, clean and petite compared to his rough and damaged ones.

His hands had small burns from failing to light his cigarettes as a starter; her hands had small burns from ovens and hot cookware and hot glue guns, yet somehow her scars were far more attractive than his.

His hands were dirty, stained with blood and sins; hers were clean, baptized in purity and commandant.

He wondered how her hands would feel against his. They looked soft, would they feel soft? He wondered if she used lotion, what her favorite nail polish was, how long she liked her nails.

Those thoughts led to other thoughts. What did she like wearing when she’s at home? What does she wear in public? What kind of music does she listened to? What kind of foods does she like?

He decided it was best to stop those thoughts. He stared at her hands, juggling his thoughts in his head, before finally giving in. He reached out and held her hand with his larger one.

He held it gently, feeling the weight of it. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand soothingly, memorized at the difference. Her hand was slightly cold, possibly due to how cold the hospital’s AC is followed by blood loss, but it wasn’t uncomfortable to touch.

He looked at her face to see if she woken up or felt the touch. She didn’t.

His fingers carefully interlocked with her, cautious to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally wake up. She remained neutral, not even a flutter of her eyelashes or any stirring.

She must be really tired… Andrew thought.

His admired their hands as they eloped together. He noticed discoloration on her hands, He shifted his body, laying his elbow down on the edge of the mattress and using his arm as a pillow. He admired her sleeping face, closing his eyes to relish the touch and intimacy of this moment. He doesn’t know how long it took for him to fall asleep, but it was relatively quick. . .

A few hours later, Andrew jolted awake first at the sound of the door opening, turning his head at the noise. (Y/N) groaned, opening her eyes and seeing Andrew by her side, holding her hand as a man stood in the doorway, one Andrew didn’t know.

Andrew squeezed (Y/N)’s hand softly, a silent greeting before glaring at the man, almost possessive of (Y/N)’s vulnerable state.

“Hello, Doctor Ryan…” (Y/N) yawned, before directing her attention to Andrew. “And hello to you too, Andrew.” She hummed, smiling as she gently squeezed his hand back.

She looked down at their hands, wondering when she and Andrew started holding hands, or even when he returned back. Her hands trailed down to her sleeves, more so lack of, as the hospital gown didn’t have any long-sleeves for her. She noticed her scars out in the open and ripped her hand away from Andrew’s, a sense of insecurity and embarrassment rapidly building in her as she hid her arms under her blanket.

Andrew looked confused (even a little disheartened that she let go) as Doctor Ryan walked over to her. Doctor Ryan isn’t usually at the hospital on Saturday nights, but he could’ve decided to work overtime this week. It’s not unusual since he has a stay-at-home wife and three kids.

“Hello! I heard what happened and I figured I’d wait to see you when you’re awake.” The doctor smiled brightly, walking over to her bedside and sitting next to Andrew. “And who is this?” he questioned, looking at Andrew, yet having a good idea of who it was as he sent a knowing smirk.

While Doctor Ryan had never met Andrew face-to-face, he had read his report when assigning (Y/N) to watch him his first night, along with hearing all the gossip from Penelope.

Andrew had a small reputation around the hospital since he’s one of the trouble patients, on suicide watch and needing special treatment for his wounds and wants. Andrew wouldn’t accept any care from any other nurse during the night shift, it was a fight for the day shift to care for him until (Y/N) told him to behave for day shift. His sister was also banned from the hospital due to proving a threat to Andrew’s recovery and health, though she won’t be a problem anymore.

Rumors spread pretty easily of Andrew’s fondness and almost admiration of the nurse he chose, (Y/N). Penelope has a big mouth without meaning to, having a bad habit of rambling and over sharing her and other people’s problems and secrets, so it spread pretty quick of the strange relationship the nurse and patient shared. Penelope’s ramblings of doubt as a nurse because Andrew wouldn’t accept her care had reached Doctor Ryan’s ears, being the catalyst of his teasing to his student, (Y/N).

“This is Andrew.” (Y/N) introduced when she realized Andrew wasn’t going to answer the doctor’s question, only give him a nasty glare.

She cleared her throat, shoving her arms into her blanket so the pair of males didn’t see, and flashed a smile. “What’s your visit for? Don’t tell me you’re gonna make me work.” She chuckled lightly, trying to make a joke.

“I wouldn’t say 'work' exactly.” Doctor Ryan smiled, before it faltered, letting out a sigh. “You’re here today, so I figured it’d be a good time to tell you. I think it’s best if you see Hailey.”

“Hailey? Why? Did something bad happen to her?” (Y/N) questioned, doing her best to not sound alarmed or panicked.

It’s never a good thing for a nurse to panic, it’d defeat a key factor of their job. Nurses are supposed to provide aid to their patients, whether it’s emotionally or physically, or even emotional in cases like Andrew’s. A nurse panicking would panic their patient since they’re going to look to the one with most experience. If a patient panics, they can worsen their condition or provide unnecessary stress that can affect their recovery or even create new problems.

And people think being a nurse is just all fluffing pillows and handing out medication. You have to be constantly in tune with the patients emotions, symptoms, and healing process; from what they're feeling to how much they're eating or using the bathroom. Always checking up on how they are and cater them to the best of your ability; serving them food (and sometimes helping feed them), changing their bedsheets, helping them to the bathroom, helping out with physical therapy, prepping them for procedures or appointments, and charting. The worse is charting. You have to document every single thing; from what they ate and what times, to who visited them today, to how what they said to be feeling and what they looked actually looked to be feeling like, to any improvement or decline or neutrality of their status, to their behavior, to what medicines they had, to their complaints or compliments they have about the hospital or their treatment, and so much more.

“She’s just not in the greatest condition at the moment. I think it’s best she sees you.” Doctor Ryan spoke.

Before she could question it, Doctor Ryan grabbed something from his coat, placing it down on her bedside table.

“Here,” he spoke, patting what looked to be a Polaroid recorder down on her table, “I came to drop this off too. This was supposed to be a wholesome visit, until Hailey at least…” he spoke, allowing his smile to drop. “Check out the contents on the camera later. I have to get back to work. Get well soon!”

“Thanks.” (Y/N) smiled, watching Doctor Ryan leave the room.

“Who was that?” Andrew questioned, glancing over at her as he resisted the urge to grimace.

“That’s Doctor Ryan, he’s my professor! He’s the one teaching me pediatrics since I’m an apprentice.” (Y/N) explained, slowly sitting up from the bed.

Andrew watched her movements carefully, observing how she slowly took her time getting out of bed. She didn’t apply much pressure on her injured leg as her sock-clothed feet hit the ground (with clean hospital socks, none of her blood soaked up in it and used to plug in any stab wounds). The room looked like a carousel, spinning rapidly, and a headache followed with it, screaming loudly in her head. She let out a groan as Andrew quickly placed a hand on her waist.

"Careful..." Andrew muttered, watching her intently as he kept his hand on her waist.

"Thank you, but I'm fine." (Y/N) lied, placing her hand on his shoulder to use as leverage.

"Yeah, sure." He hummed sarcastically.

(Y/N) resisted the urge to glare at him. While she wasn't on duty, she was still his nurse and she didn't feel like having any workplace drama.

"Do you want me to assist you there?" Andrew questioned, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on her hip.

"No, it's fine." She spoke, taking a few steps to the door and ignoring the stabbing sensation in her leg.

"Are you sure?" Andrew questioned, trying his best to not look too concerned for her.

"Yes, I'm sure." She huffed, trying not to be snippy. "It's for the best. I don't want Hailey to be nervous or worried, especially if there's something going on with her."

"Just be careful..." Andrew spoke, watching her limp away. "I'll be here waiting for you."

(Y/N) took the moment to look back at him, confused. Before she could question it, she stopped herself, deciding there was always later to talk about it. Right now Hailey needs her, Andrew can wait.

(Y/N) settled for a nod, rummaging in the hospital cabinets and grabbing a white blanket. She wrapped it around her body to hide her hospital gown; she wouldn’t want to worry Hailey. (Y/N) limped out of the room, going down the halls to the elevator.

She pressed the floor the pediatric branch was on, waiting rather impatiently for the doors to open again as she descended.

Was Hailey okay? What did he mean by she’s not in the greatest condition? Has she gained more symptoms, or weakened?

Hailey has acute lymphoblastic leukemia, also known as ALL. It’s a cancer inside the blood and bone marrow, where the infected white blood cells are rapidly multiplying, creating blocks in the blood and bones that could prevent other cells from getting through and working. The cancer comes with symptoms such as fever, frequent nose bleeds, weakness or fatigue, easy bruising, pain in the bones or stomach or groin, frequent infections, and swollen lymph nodes.

Hailey’s most prominent symptoms are her swollen lymph nodes, hence why her voice is low and raspy, along with her bone pains in her legs, which is why she’s bedridden. At least 90% of kids under 15 who have ALL survive, so long as they’re treated. Even thought Hailey has been in the hospital for three years, she’s made very little progress in recovering.

Despite there being no stages in ALL cancer, if (Y/N) had to guess, she’s assume Hailey would be in stage 3. Over the years of chemotherapy and medications, her infected white blood cells just seem to be multiplying more and more, hence why it’s called acute lymphoblastic leukemia, acute means rapid.

(Y/N)’s theory is that a doctor didn’t give a strong enough dosage to Hailey, therefore the cells grew a resistance to the medication, creating a superbug that could withstand the medicine entirely.

Even then, what matters is if Hailey is feeling alright. (Y/N) exited the elevator and limped down the hallways, making it to Hailey’s room and opening the door.

“Oh. Hello, Ms. (L/N)!” Hailey greeted brightly, her voice still hoarse and raspy, but having life to it. “What are you doing here? You said it was your day off!”

Hailey’s upper body shot up quickly as she sat up from bed, a smile on her face as she greeted (Y/N). Her eyes were bright and lively, even waving her arm at the nurse.

Oh.

“Sorry it’s so early!” (Y/N) smiled. “It’s at least 5 A.M. What are you doing up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I just had such a sudden burst of energy!” Hailey spoke. “I think I’m getting better!”

(Y/N) ignored that comment, sitting down on the guest chair in Hailey’s room. Her eyes trailed to the wheelchair that sat near her IV pole, a wheelchair that’s only used for Hailey to wheel herself to the bathroom now, but even then she needs help from the nurses.

“So? How’s that book you’re reading?” (Y/N) questioned.

“I’m almost done with it. At least 30 pages away.” Hailey answered. “What are you doing here at the hospital? It’s your night off; unless you’re working overtime again?”

“Yes! I’m working overtime again.” (Y/N) lied, smiling at the girl.

It’s best not to tell her anything, not in her condition.

“Are you cold? Why are you wearing a blanket?” Hailey questioned.

“Yes, I’m cold. I’m feeling a bit chilly at the moment. It’s verging to winter and the hospital still hasn’t adjusted the thermostat yet.” (Y/N) lied once more. “Hey, remember when I said I’ll take you to the garden the next time I see you? Would you like to go right now?”

Hailey’s eyes brightened even more, her grin widening as she nodded. “Yes! I want to see the flowers!”

“Let’s get you in the wheelchair, yeah?” (Y/N) spoke, standing up from the chair and using the blanket to hide herself limping from Hailey’s sight.

Hailey used her upper arms and was able to push herself to the edge of the bed on her own, even moving her knees a bit too! (Y/N) still carefully placed one of her arms under Hailey’s knees and the other on her back, picking up Hailey and placing her in the wheelchair.

(Y/N) decided against the wheelchair restraints, not wanting Hailey to feel trapped at the moment. (Y/N) grabbed the blanket off Hailey’s bed, but Hailey spoke up.

“We can leave the blanket. I actually feel pretty warm at the moment.” Hailey spoke.

The only warmth Hailey usually had was when she had a fire spreading in her legs, the bone pains acting up and causing many sleepless nights for her. It’s why Hailey is almost always awake when (Y/N) does her rounds around the hospital at night.

“It’s cold outside. Let’s take the blanket just in case.” (Y/N) persisted, smiling as she covered Hailey’s shoulders and down with the thin white cloth.

Hailey decided not to argue against it and cooperated. (Y/N) wheeled Hailey out of the room, her pace a little slower than usually as she felt that stabbing sensation in her leg and stomach. It made her silently hitch her breath, her ears having a slight ring in them, yet she persisted.

“Gosh, I haven’t seen these halls in forever.” Hailey spoke, her eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the white hallways. “You know, I read that whenever you enter a unfamiliar area, the reason why you feel dizzy is because you have a sensory overload. Like, you’re saving mental images and color palettes and the layout of the area all in your head, that way you remember where you are the next time you go! Even though I’ve been here before, it feels like it’s my first time down these halls all over again.”

Yes, (Y/N) knows that. She was the one who gave Hailey the book she learned that from, but for Hailey’s sake (and to distract her mind from the pain), she decided to play dumb.

“Wow, really?” (Y/N) hummed, smiling. “I never knew that. It makes sense now that you’ve explained it.”

Hailey nodded, smiling. “Yeah! I remember having that dizziness when I was at my friend’s for a sleepover.” She spoke, before her smile dropped. “Though, it was before I had cancer, or at least when I wasn’t placed in the hospital… I sometimes miss having friends.”

“Why, of course you have friends.” (Y/N) spoke. “You have me! And you have Doctor Ryan, and Penelope, and Ruby, and even Andrew too.”

“Yeah, but I mean friends my age.” Hailey spoke.

Normally, that could be arranged in the hospital so long as the patients aren’t being exposed to a infectious disease or illness, especially in Hailey’s case since she’s more prone to getting infections; however, Hailey didn’t want to be friends with the other kids after her hair started falling out due to the chemotherapy. She was insecure of her appearance deteriorating, even if Penelope kept lying to her face and telling her she looked perfectly fine. Hailey preferred (Y/N) over Penelope for that reason. (Y/N) always told her the truth, or at least left it blank so there was no harsh comment.

If Penelope asked (Y/N) if she looked sickly today, (Y/N) would tell her that a bit of water and food would help bring back some color to her face. It was a good way to not only promote healthy behavior for Hailey, but also it helped build trust in (Y/N) to always telling her the truth about her health. If she asked Penelope, Penelope would’ve lied and said she looked as bright as the sun; which is kind, but she could tell Penelope was lying by how Penelope’s right eye would twitch and bite her bottom lip.

“I see… well, I’m sure we can arrange that soon, when you’re ready.” (Y/N) smiled, taking Hailey into the elevator.

(Y/N) pressed the lobby floor as Hailey spoke up.

“Are the flowers even in bloom? Since it’s verging to winter?” Hailey questioned.

“A secret between me and you; the flowers are fake.” (Y/N) whispered, acting as if there was a camera watching her or something. We have scented pads hidden in the soil to make it smell like flowers, and we wet the soil regularly to keep that earthy smell lingering.”

“Really?” Hailey gasped.

“That’s why they’re always in bloom. It’s depressing to have an empty garden, even something as small as colorful flowers give people hope.” (Y/N) explained.

While fake flowers aren’t present in most hospitals, this hospital was different. Even if they were always understaffed and overworked, they at least cared for their patients. Even if the staff excel at their work or not, at least they have work ethic.

The elevator doors opened as (Y/N) wheeled Hailey down the hallways. (Y/N) noticed the stares from guests and even some patients; whether it was because of Hailey’s bald head or (Y/N)’s limp. (Y/N) noticed Hailey’s gripping the blanket on her, seconds away from raising the blanket above her head to hide it. (Y/N) recognized Hailey’s insecurity and spoke up.

“You know, I’m thinking of starting a garden. A real garden with real flowers indoors, that way patients with allergies or conditions can see the flowers too without going outside.” (Y/N) spoke, redirecting Hailey’s attention. “I was wondering what flowers you’d like for me to add. I’ll do a survey with the other patients too, have a nice diversity of flowers. What do you think?”

“I think… it’s a nice idea.” Hailey smiled, letting go of the blanket. “I think daisies. You should do daisies.”

“That’s a nice flower. I’ll see what I can do.” (Y/N) nodded, smiling as she pushed open the glass door, rolling Hailey to the garden.

(Y/N) guided Hailey to the wooden bench, picking up Hailey and placing her down on the seat so she wouldn’t be confided to the wheelchair.

Hailey rambled on and on about anything and everything. She talked so much that (Y/N) contemplated if she should go fetch water for Hailey’s throat given how raspy it was, but she decided against it as she noticed the signs.

Hailey’s bright smile, the almost whimsical joy in her eyes; an expression that (Y/N) thought Hailey has lost over the years as she spent her birthdays in this hospital.

(Y/N) remembers bringing a cake for Hailey’s 7th birthday, the first they spent together. Even though Hailey admitted to not liking vanilla cake, she still ate it. It was the last birthday she’d spend with her parents before they threw themselves at work, leaving Hailey along in the hospital with other sick patients and the staff.

The second birthday they spent together, (Y/N) had to ditch the candles, concerned the smoke would affect Hailey’s lungs. At least the cake was homemade, even if the frosting looked a bit ugly. (Y/N) made sure it was chocolate this time, so Hailey could enjoy it.

And the third birthday they spent together, (Y/N) made an ice cream cake, chocolate of course. She figured the ice cream would soothe Hailey’s throat and Hailey could still enjoy the flavor. It took many tries, but she succeeded in making the perfect cake, gifting Hailey books for her to read too.

If (Y/N) had known it would be Hailey’s last birthday, she would’ve made sure to go all out. Buy balloons and party streamers, force her parents to come back and see her, cover her head to toe in presents.

Unfortunately, you can’t change time.

Hailey’s eyes shined as she spoke, talking about anything possible. She didn’t have many who would listen to her, her doctors and nurses were there for work, and (Y/N) couldn’t visit long since she had other patients to tend to. But now, (Y/N)’s off the clock. At the moment she’s not Hailey’s nurse, she’s Hailey’s friend.

Eventually, Hailey’s voice faltered, before she let out a hum, satisfied as she rested her head on the bench. She took a deep breath, then sighed, smiling softly.

“It really does smell like flowers. Those are some good quality scent pads.” Hailey spoke.

Fake flowers last for years; patients do not.

“Do you ever wonder what’s beyond us?” Hailey questioned after a long silence.

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) questioned, turning her head to face the girl.

“Death. Like, do you ever wonder what happens after?” Hailey added.

(Y/N) hummed, thinking as she kept her blanket wrapped around her, hiding her hospital gown just as Hailey hid from the cold.

She wasn’t sure. Many religions had their own ideals of life and death, but she doubted Hailey wanted an answer based on religion. She wasn’t sure what was beyond. After trying to kill herself, everything in her life started losing value, a spiral of nothing and everything thrown at her all at once.

Even if she stopped hurting herself physically, she couldn’t stop mentally.

“I think it changes for everyone.” (Y/N) spoke. “Like, your own paradise. You could be surrounded by anyone you want, and anything you want.”

“What would you want to be surrounded by?” Hailey questioned.

She didn’t have to think much on that matter. There wasn’t much in her life she cared about anymore. She did nothing but work nowadays. She was an empty husk that worked itself to death to pass the time, awaiting Death by the door.

If she couldn’t open the door, she’ll make Death open it.

“Beds.” (Y/N) answered.

“Really? That’s it?” Hailey questioned, surprised and perhaps kindly disappointed. “I was expecting something… more. Like, deep, or wise.”

“You can’t expect everything to make sense in life, you know.” (Y/N) chuckled. “Sometimes things just happen. I think that’s what’s so fun about life, it’s just a mystery to be solved at the end of the line through all that hard work; or, perhaps there’s no mystery. Maybe it just coexists just like we do.”

“How can your answer be so boring but your follow-up be so wise?” Hailey pouted, cause (Y/N) to chuckle.

“Hey, I never said I’d give you any special answer.” (Y/N) pointed out.

“But, really, why beds?” Hailey questioned.

“I just like sleeping.” (Y/N) smiled, giving part of the truth.

“I guess it’ll suffice.” Hailey sighed, disappointed.

“And you? What would you like to be surrounded by?” (Y/N) questioned.

“My parents.” Hailey spoke. “And my old friends. And tons of my hair, like as much hair as Rapunzel.”

“That sounds nice.” (Y/N) hummed. “Though, you’d have to brush your hair all the time. Maybe it’s not so good having hair, I can’t stand mine at times.” (Y/N) spoke, trying to gently reassure Hailey.

“Well, maybe just normal hair then. What it used to look like before.” Hailey spoke. “You’d be there too. I wouldn’t only see you when you’re working. I’d see you outside of the hospital as my friend.”

“What’s it matter where or how you meet? As long as we’re still friends, I don’t see any issue.” (Y/N) smiled.

Hailey smiled, nodding. “I like that.”

Eventually, Hailey went quiet, no longer having any words to speak. She sat on the bench, observing her surroundings in a youthful fashion. Her eyes sparkled with life, her pulse relaxing as she enjoyed the false nature around her.

“Thank you for staying with me.” Hailey spoke up, her volume decreasing, the sound of her raspy voice cracking more. “I know it’s probably hard for you to see me like this.”

“Anything for you, Hails.” (Y/N) smiled, wrapping her arm around Hailey’s shoulder and giving her a gentle side-hug.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone. It means a lot to me…” Hailey muttered, taking a few deep breaths, before eventually subduing.

(Y/N) glanced at the IV pole, looking at the fluids that gently flowed in Hailey’s veins, before she turned her attention back to Hailey.

After a few minutes, there was no movement from Hailey. No breathing. No eye movement. No leg twitching. Just nothing.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, smelling the fake flowers and wet soil, before letting out a sob she’s been holding.

Hailey had so much life, and yet she died so young. She was so lively in her final moments.

All that matters now is she’s not going to be in anymore pain and that she wasn’t scared. (Y/N) thought.

Even if kids under 15 have a 90% chance of surviving acute lymphoblastic leukemia, it doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed. Life and death is really never a guarantee though, so it’s good to enjoy it while it lasts.

If only (Y/N) could follow her own advice.

(Y/N) covered her face in her hands, crying now that Hailey was gone, so she wouldn’t see her tears. This hurt way worse than any stab she could endure.

(Y/N) almost contemplated covering Hailey’s face with the her blanket, but she decided against it. She didn’t want to be ashamed of Hailey or her presence, she didn’t want to forget Hailey or brush her aside.

(Y/N) stood up, deciding not to waste much time, and picked Hailey up, putting her in the wheelchair. She had such lifeless and glazed eyes, her mouth was slightly open and her arms flayed motionless as (Y/N) moved. She doesn’t look like the suddenly bright and cheerful Hailey from just a few minutes ago.

Terminal Lucidity. It’s an unknown phenomenon that can happen before death, giving you suddenly more strength, a clearer consciousness, and even regaining memory. It’s surprisingly common, at least 88% experiencing the symptoms before death. It can happen from minutes to hours to days before death, and it has a habit of giving false hope to the patients loved ones. While it’s quite common in dementia patients, it can also happen to those with neurological problems or in some special cases those with cancer.

In the hospital, a terminal patient suddenly acting lively and alert is usually a bad thing because it means they’re near death. It’s not quite known why, but some speculate it could be the brain’s last fight, before eventually giving in.

(Y/N) wheeled Hailey’s dead body to the hospital’s mortuary. She checked the body in, guessing the nearest time of death since she didn’t have a watch on her, and the cause of death. She wrote down the parental numbers so they could be contacted, before lumping her way back to the elevator.

The ride up was deathly silent, not that anyone was in the elevator to talk to her, but it was silent in her mind too. Usually she’d at least be thinking of things to do, but she had no thoughts in her mind.

The elevator doors opened and (Y/N) walked out. She walked back to her own hospital room, exhausted and tired. Tears threatened to escape her eyes once more, the pain of losing Hailey and the pain of her wounds piling up on her.

She opened the door, surprised to see Andrew there, sleeping in his wheelchair with his arms crossed. (Y/N) wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed or happy. Annoyed because she wanted to cry and sleep, but also happy because it meant she wasn’t alone with her thoughts and feelings.

The door opened, jolting Andrew awake. He was probably in a light sleep, whether because he was expecting (Y/N) or because the wheelchair is uncomfortable to sleep in. Whatever the reason was, he was awake.

His eyes trailed to (Y/N), doing his best not to smile and brighten up at her presence (that would be so lame if he did that).

“Hey.” Andrew spoke.

“Hey.” (Y/N) parroted, throwing her blanket at Andrew for him to use instead as she got up in her hospital bed.

There was no point in hiding her hospital gown now that Hailey was dead, so that blanket could now be used by Andrew while she got under her own hospital bedsheets.

“You can go to your room, you know. I’m fine on my own.” (Y/N) spoke.

“So? You got stabbed.” Andrew gruffed, catching the blanket and placing it down on his lap.

“And you have two broken legs, mister. You should still be recovering after surgery.” (Y/N) scolded lightly.

Her response caused Andrew to chuckle. Even injured and off the clock, she still worried about others. Andrew wasn’t sure if it was because she was his nurse or if she was just trying to be a decent human, but he relished the attention anyways.

“Ah, c’mon. I feel fine.” He chuckled.

(Y/N) resisted the urge to kick his leg to prove him wrong, yet she decided not to be petty today. She hummed, lying down on her bed.

“Is there something you want from me? Why are you here?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at the clock.

It was 6:30 A.M. She’ll be here in the hospital until 3 P.M. She wasn’t fond of that. She needed to bury Ashley’s body and deep clean her apartment. Even though the police hopefully had no trace it was her, and hopefully they didn’t invade in her apartment and swab the place (which, they better of not considering it’d be illegal without her permission or a warrant).

Not really. Andrew thought.

He just came over as soon as he heard (Y/N) was put in the emergency unit thanks to Penelope’s big mouth. He doesn’t really know why he came here, maybe just out of curiosity to see how bad she was hurt. All humans are curious when something bad happens.

Maybe he just wanted to spend more time with her, to be happy she was here with him. It’s not like she could fight much with him, she was tired and her eyes were red.

Red eyes. Was she crying?

“I just figured I see you, since you’re here. It gives me something to do other than being stuck in that hospital bed.” Andrew spoke.

“And now you’re stuck in a hospital wheelchair.” (Y/N) chuckled.

“Forget about me. Are you okay?” Andrew questioned.

“Yeah. I told you. It doesn’t hurt much.” (Y/N) lied, ignoring the pulses inside her wounds.

“I wasn’t talking about that. I mean, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.” Andrew pointed out, leaning back in his chair as he looked at her.

(Y/N) paused, thinking. Would it be against hospital protocol to say a patient’s status or info to someone if they’re dead?

Well, you only live once. And Andrew doesn’t look like a snitch.

“Hailey died.” (Y/N) spoke. “And, her parents weren’t there to say goodbye. Really, never visited her much either.”

“That sucks…” Andrew muttered.

He’s not too sure if he could care or not. Yeah, it sucks a kid died, but why should he care about a kid he had no connection with? She died, might as well get over it.

“It happens more than I like around here. They pass without their family around.” (Y/N) spoke. “But, I just can’t stand when the parents aren’t there for their kids. They die scared, that’s no way to die, for a kid or adult.”

(Y/N) spoke, looking out her window as the sun started rising.

She wondered where Andrew’s parents were. Why aren’t they here to visit him? Do they not know he’s here? Or perhaps they don’t want to visit their child who’s a murderer…

“What shitty parents.” Andrew spoke with no filter.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) chuckled, “that’s what I think too.”

To really care about someone you don’t have any blood-relation to, must be a special kind of bond; it’s one you can choose, not one you’re born with, unlike the one Andrew and Ashley shares.

“So, where’s your parents?” Andrew questioned.

“I’m an adult, I don’t need them checking up on me.” (Y/N) spoke.

“Yeah, but, wouldn’t it be nice? A sense of security and all?” Andrew questioned.

“Well, where’s your parents?” (Y/N) retorted, a bit annoyed.

So what? It’s not like if she called them they’d come rushing to her. Her mother would care less seeing (Y/N) in a hospital again, and her father would probably go berserk and try to bring her back home where it was safe.

“Touché.” Andrew chuckled. “But I have my sister to visit me.”

(Y/N) mentally grimaced at that, doing her best to not make a face so Andrew wouldn’t question it.

Not anymore… she thought.

Her hands suddenly felt dirty again. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she hid them in the hospital blanket. Once again, Andrew was intrigued with her hands after seeing her hide them. It’s like everything she hides them, he immediately gets curious and wants to see them.

He knows of the obvious self-harm scars now, he saw those when she was sleeping. And he saw the small scars and burns from everyday life, but why care so much about them?

Maybe it’s just something you have to go through in order to understand. You can’t understand everything on the first try, especially if you have no experience in it.

Sure, he was admitted for jumping a rooftop, but that’s a bit different than self-harming. Jumping a rooftop is one clear goal; suicide. It has subcategories such as wanting to escape life, or having too many problems to run away from.

Self-harming, on the other hand, is more complex. The desire to harm yourself is there, but you don’t want to die immediately. It’s a slow steady process building up. You hurt yourself possibly because you feel ashamed, that you feel like you deserve to hurt because that’s all you’re worth. Or perhaps it’s to relieve stress or pain. There’s not always such a strong intent to die when you hurt yourself? sometimes pain is the only thing people know that they use to feel normal or detached. Perhaps they even get pressured into hurting themselves. Self-harming isn’t to die, it’s to make yourself suffer because you feel that that’s what you need.

The question is: what is her reasoning?

The question left him wondering, he was almost compelled to answer, but she didn’t look to be in a good mood, so he decided against it.

(Y/N)’s eyes trailed to the digital recorder on her bedside. Doctor Ryan had left it on her bedside earlier, but he didn’t explain what was on it. She reached over and grabbed it, studying it.

It was a shiny silver recorder, with a slot for polaroid photos to slip out of. (Y/N) turned on the camera, pressing a button to the camera roll. The camera roll opened, multiple short videos at least 10 or 20 seconds showing.

She clicked on one and turned it on, seeing a video of one of her patients. They had black hair and black eyes, sitting in their hospital bed with an IV needle in her arm and bandages around her head. She recently had surgery for a tumor in her brain, now resting in bed.

“Hi, Ms. (L/N)! I heard you were doing unwell and I wanted to say please get better and visit me when you’re healthy!” the patient smiled.

(Y/N) chuckled, a smile plastered on her face as she looked at the footage. Andrew wheeled his way over to her side, curious to what she was smiling at. He rested his arm on the bedside, leaning over and looking at the footage.

(Y/N) moved the camera in the center of them so they both could see. She clicked the next video, pressing play.

A boy with brown hair looked at the camera, confused. “What do I say?”

“Say get better.” Doctor Ryan whispered from behind the camera.

“Get better.” The boy spoke.

“Now add more to it, say nice things.” Doctor Ryan whispered, resisting the urge to chuckle.

“Nice things.” The kid spoke.

“No. What do you like about Nurse (L/N).” Doctor Ryan spoke, now using his normal volume instead of whispering.

“I like that she’s nice.” The kid smiled.

“Now say it to the camera.” Doctor Ryan pushed.

“I like that you’re nice, camera.” The boy smiled, one of his front teeth were missing, only adding to the cuteness.

“Ah, close enough.” Doctor Ryan chuckled, ending the video.

(Y/N) giggled at the video while Andrew remained unfazed. She clicked the next video, pressing play. There was a girl inside Doctor Ryan’s office, there for an appointment. She was a frequent regular for common colds, so (Y/N) recognized her instantly.

“Hi, Ms. (L/N)! Please get better soon, Doctor Ryan’s handwriting is too messy! I like yours better!” she smiled.

“Hey! It’s not messy, you just can’t read the prescriptions because it’s long words!” Doctor Ryan laughed.

“Still bad.” The kid smiled.

“Oh whatever.” Doctor Ryan chuckled from behind the camera, ending the video.

The kid was right, Doctor Ryan’s handwriting was bad. The kid would try to read the prescriptions on the paper but couldn’t read the big messy words, so (Y/N) would just simply write “cold medicine” so the girl could read it.

(Y/N) smiled, going through more and more videos as she chuckled and grinned at the kids, their thoughts and feelings, and seeing their current statuses.

She eventually got to the last video, the caption above saying it was recorded just eight hours ago, when (Y/N) was still sleeping in the hospital after surgery.

“Hi, Ms. (L/N)!” the patient with blonde hair smiled, revealing to be Hailey, lively and well.

“I heard you’re unwell and I hope you get better really soon! I can’t wait to see you again and to read the books you lend me. Please get well soon, I miss you already!” Hailey smiled.

“Wow, she looked to be getting better.” Andrew commented, pointing at the screen. “I wonder what happened…”

Even though Hailey was lively and well, anybody with medical knowledge would know that she was doing bad.

“Terminal lucidity.” (Y/N) answered. “Sometimes before you die, your brain acts out on a last defense. You gain more energy and strength; but it’s fruitless.” She explained.

“Oh… that blows…” Andrew muttered.

No wonder she seemed much more vocal and confident today than she did yesterday. He wondered if he died, would he act like that too before kicking the bucket? That must hurt for the loved ones who don’t understand.

“It does…” (Y/N) sighed, her mind going blank as she stared out in the distance.

When things become too much, it’s better not to think and just go on auto-pilot. It’s how (Y/N) went through her life when things became too much.

It’s unhealthy, she knows that, but it helps her cope with reality.

She turned off the camera screen, burning a hole into her lap as she looked at the black screen. She spaced out, going motionless.

Andrew noticed, unsure whether to speak up or not. She was obviously feeling distraught and he wasn’t sure if she should be wallowing in her feelings or not.

Auto-pilot took over and decided it wanted her to cry. Tears started pouring down her face before she knew it, only causing Andrew to shift uncomfortably in his chair. He sighed, grabbing her hand and holding it.

“Hey… it’s okay.” Andrew spoke awkwardly.

“No, it’s not.” She spoke, her voice cracking. “All these kids, they shouldn’t have to go through this so young. They shouldn't be in pain or dying.”

It’s admirable, her care for others. It must take a good heart to do that, always worrying about others instead of herself. Andrew wondered if he was like that before all this happened. Was he a good person before he jumped and lost most of his memory?

No, probably not. This is reality, not a dream. He doubts that he was a good person, judging by the way he acted with Ashley the past three months he could remember. His parents ignored his calls, his girlfriend broke up with him on the phone, and he killed multiple people and even ate his neighbor!

Yeah, definitely not a good person.

“There, there…” Andrew muttered awkwardly, squeezing her hand hesitantly. “Sometimes things just happen?”

“But they shouldn’t happen to kids. They’ve been brought in this world just to get taken out when life has barely even started for them. These poor kids.” She cried, squeezing Andrew’s hand tightly for comfort. “They shouldn’t be wanted to die so early on. They should be enjoying life, not wondering when it’ll end.”

Normally, she’d just hide her feelings or bottle it up until she got home, but she can’t even go home and cry because she has a body to bury and a apartment to clean.

Life just keeps piling up on her more and more. It feels like a never ending cycle of pain. The only time she even feels happy now in reality, without sleeping, is seeing kids happy and smiling. How can she be happy if they keep dying? How can she be happy if these kids keep getting their happiness robbed?

Andrew contemplated what he should do. Should he let her vent? Should he try and comfort her more? Should he offer her to shut up and shove advice down her throat?

He decided it was probably best to just comfort her, he��d rather not see her cry. She can be emotional outside of his vision. As much as he likes this nurse, he hates sensitive people; maybe he just doesn’t like seeing someone he favors crying.

Andrew sighed, reaching over and placing both his hands on her face, wiping the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Hey, don’t cry.” He spoke. “It doesn’t look good on you, you know?”

(Y/N) sniffled as she tried to speak. The muscles in her throat felt restricting, preventing her from putting them to use, so she only just shook her head.

“That video showed Hailey saying that she wanted you to get better, right?” Andrew pointed out, wiping the tears into her skin.

(Y/N) nodded, unsure of where he was trying to go with this.

“So, she knew you weren’t feeling good, even when she wasn't doing good herself She cares about your health. Do you think crying would make her happy?” Andrew questioned. “I think it would just worry her about you. You wouldn’t want her to worry about you, would you?”

(Y/N) shook her head, her shoulders shaking from her sobs.

"You were there for her when no one else was? Isn't that all that matters in a kid's final moments?" Andrew questioned.

Andrew's right, at least they didn't die alone. Dying alone must be one of the worst ways to die, alone to succumb to your own thoughts and regrets of what could've happen and what did. It must be worse slowly deteriorating over time, at least dying quick you wouldn't be alone with your thoughts, but dying alone just leaves your thoughts, which slowly fade over time the more and more you stop living and just start existing, before even you lose that too.

Yeah, being alone sucks, (Y/N) can vouch for that. Coming home to an empty house with nobody to greet you, eating meals alone, waking up alone and going to sleep alone, shopping alone. It's kind of like dying alone in one way. You're just waiting for that time to come when eventually you stop doing those other things, so you just go on autopilot and wait. Of course, she could easily change all that by dating someone or getting a pet for at home, but it's just so exhausting trying to find a good person to spend the rest of your life with.

There's a reason so many people are single in the dating pool. Besides, she doubts anyone would want to date her with her work schedule; she sleeps in the day and either works at night or stays up at night on her days off. Let's not forget how she's constantly tired and depressed, dating someone like her would be such a buzzkill, you'd have to be desperate; at least that's what her mother said to her last time they met up for dinner.

(Y/N)’s tears stopped, realizing Andrew was right. Hailey wouldn’t want her crying, and if (Y/N) died, she wouldn’t want to be sad either.

(Y/N)’s sadness was soon replaced with embarrassment once she realized she was crying. Crying in front of a man and have the audacity to rely on him for her own emotions. It only makes it worse that he was her patient. This must be wrong in some way to be touching her patient like this, considering Andrew isn’t in any need of reassurance she should be providing as his nurse.

She pushed him away rather quickly, wiping her own tears out of her eyes instead of him doing it for her. Andrew looked confused, mentally wondering if he did something wrong.

Why the sudden change?

(Y/N) adverted her eyes from his face, feeling childish and insecure for crying in front of someone. Even if he was pretty handsome to her, she’d rather not see the pity, or any other sort of expression on his face.

Andrew felt a bit annoyed at the sudden change. He was just holding her and comforting her. She was even leaning against him and crying into his chest! Why did she suddenly push him away? Why did she suddenly not want him anymore?

His eye unconsciously twitched, showing his mild annoyance as a tinge of insecurity washed over him. Before he could question the sudden change of heart, the door opened, Penelope walking into the room.

Penelope’s face brightened once she saw (Y/N), before it dropped noticing Andrew. Penelope suddenly became skittish, playing with her fingers as she avoided Andrew’s gaze (glare).

“Um… Mr. Graves, you’re not supposed to be here at night. It’s protocol for patients to be in their rooms in the night.” Penelope muttered, her green eyes staring down at the white tiles. “Should I escort you back to your room?”

“No.” He spoke quickly, wanting nothing to do with Penelope.

Andrew looked back at (Y/N), his gaze softening just a bit as he looked a bit concerned for her. He didn’t want to leave her. What if she needed help with something? What if she cried some more? What if she needed him?

Andrew mentally groaned, conflicted with his emotions. He unlocked his wheelchair and wheeled to the door, Penelope stepping to the side so he could pass by her.

“You can come back during visiting hours.” Penelope added quietly, resulting in a harsh glare from Andrew.

If only looks could kill.

Penelope watched as Andrew left the room, before she closed the door behind her for privacy.

“Gosh, he’s just so intimidating…” Penelope groaned, taking a seat in the room’s guest chair.

“He’s not so bad…” (Y/N) hummed, smiling.

(Y/N)’s not too sure why Penelope’s afraid of Andrew. Sure, he’s a man, but he’s not really intimidating. Perhaps she’s grown desensitized to him and his menacing aura.

Or you know, perhaps she just likes red flags. A killer cannibal certainly is a red flag, but that’s just a theory.

Besides, what’s he gonna do with two broken legs? Punch her? Penelope just has to climb up on the hospital bed or take the stairs.

Penelope took in (Y/N)’s appearance, a frown making way on her face.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she spoke, the words sounding degrading enough, especially after (Y/N) was just crying a few minutes ago. "Who could do such a thing to you?"

"Who knows..." (Y/N) muttered, ignoring the sudden shock of anger shooting through her.

She looked at Andrew. Why did Penelope look at Andrew? Yeah, she was searching for him to bring him back to his room, but did she have to advert her eyes and mutter like a damn school girl?

The sudden jealousy pissed (Y/N) off, why was she acting like this? Why did she care? What does Penelope even want?

"Did you need something?" (Y/N) questioned, not doing too well to hide her annoyance.

Luckily, Penelope was a bit oblivious, yet still seemed a bit on edge.

"Oh, sorry... Well, before I speak, how do you feel? Do you need anything? Food or water? Painkillers?" Penelope questioned.

"I'm doing fine..." (Y/N) spoke, gritting her teeth as she smiled.

"Good. Well, did you hear the news about that patient? Andrew Graves?" Penelope questioned.

"What about him?" (Y/N) questioned, glancing at Penelope suspiciously as another volt of jealousy shot through her.

"Well, I did some digging online, and I found out he's wanted!" Penelope spoke, her voice a bit too loud for her liking.

"So?" (Y/N) questioned, already knowing this information, before she quickly switched up her attitude, realizing that wasn't an appropriate social response. "Wait, what? Wanted? Like, by the police?"

"Yes!" Penelope nodded, leaning closer to (Y/N) in her chair as she spoke. "Wanted for murder! They said he killed four people at their old apartment. Him and his sister, Ashley. They even said one of the bodies had meat cut off it and it was cut up in pieces! They found DNA and blood in their kitchen, on the counter and pots and silverware!"

Well, the police only has to worry about one sibling now... (Y/N) thought to herself.

(Y/N) stayed silent, unsure of what a functioning human would respond to this. Honestly, she's grown quite comfortable with the fact Andrew is a killer and a cannibal.

"I mean, that's just... vile! And disgusting! How could someone do that?" Penelope questioned, her face turning as green as her eyes.

"Why did they do it?" (Y/N) questioned.

"H-huh?" Penelope questioned, surprised. "What do you mean? They kill four people and ate one! They must be insane or something."

"Let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know why they did it." (Y/N) spoke. "Penelope, we should know better than anyone else that people act out for reasons. We're nurses, we deal with mental breakdowns and patients lashing out all the time, and we know they have motives behind it."

"Yeah, but that's a medical setting, when something's generally wrong with them! Andrew seems stable enough!" Penelope spoke. "He must've knew what he was doing!"

"Peer pressure?" (Y/N) suggested. "Perhaps his act is a facade? We don't know a person's thoughts or feelings. For all we knew, they could've been in a dire situation. I mean, who just randomly kills four people in one day and run? Something must've happened."

Penelope looked frustrated, her bottom lip pouting as she clenched her fists. "And? So? Why should we care?! He killed four people, you know! We need to call the police!"

"No! You can't!" (Y/N) quickly shot up from the bed, flinching as she felt a stabbing pain in her stomach where her wound was.

"What? Why not?" Penelope questioned, surprised at the sudden outburst as she leaned back in her chair. "Why are you defending him? We're nurses! We need to help protect people. He could hurt someone else here!"

"No! You can't take him!" (Y/N) shouted, throwing the bedsheets off her and rushing to Penelope, ignoring the pain shooting throughout her body as she placed both of her hands on the arm chairs, caging Penelope in. "You can't do that! I won't let you."

"W-what? W-why are you acting like this?" Penelope squeaked, her hands pressing together as she curled herself up in a ball, sinking herself down in her chair as she stared up at (Y/N), frightened.

(Y/N) paused, realizing the sudden position she put herself in. Damn it! Why did she just lash out like that? She's never like this! Why can't she just let Andrew go? She needed to think of something quick to diffuse this situation and convince Penelope not to report Andrew.

"Don't you understand? The police are just going to keep him here until he heals up to where he can go to jail. If you report him now and he's aware of that, he might snap and actually hurt people." (Y/N) spoke, trying to come up with a false reason. "You'll just enrage him and give him a motive to hurt others. He hasn't injured anyone severely these past days, only a few books and hits thrown because he was afraid of us recognizing him and calling the police."

Penelope looked uncertain, contemplating whether she should listen to the younger and injured nurse in front of her.

"B-but—" Penelope started, but was cut off by (Y/N).

"Penelope, please. Don't be an idiot. Don't do something so unfathomably stupid!" (Y/N) pleaded.

Just make the idea look stupid. Just act like Penelope's the one being insensible.

"He could really hurt someone if the police come and tell him he's arrested. They're just going to explain that he's under arrest, and will be escorted to prison once the doctors deem him healthy enough to go. He'll just be here, drugged up from his surgeries, and that could cause him to not think sensibly, it'll make him more of a hazard to others. We can't afford that, Penelope." (Y/N) explained.

Penelope adverted her eyes, (Y/N)'s words seeming to sink into her as she started to appear ashamed of what she was previously proposing.

"So... what now?" Penelope questioned. "He's not going to be able to stay here long anyways. We have no emergency contacts to contact for him. He has no records inside our hospital. He can't even fill out any of our forms or such because of his amnesia, either that or he's pretending to not to know the information." Penelope explained. "He doesn't have health insurance or can't remember it, and I doubt he can afford the hospital bills if he can't even remember anything! He probably doesn't even know his banking information if he has it!"

“If we tell him that, it’ll be bothersome…” (Y/N) explained. “I mean… he could get mad and hurt someone.”

“Exactly!” Penelope exclaimed. “I-I don’t know what to do! Should we bring this up to HR or the head nurse?”

“No.” (Y/N) spoke quickly. “I-I mean, c’mon? It’s hard to trust these so-called professionals. The hospital is notorious for its accidents and fatalities. I mean, we're all working here because we were rejected by other hospitals because of our questionable backgrounds and court filings! For gods sake, there’s an advisement a town from here that has a doctor suggesting anesthesia for depression and it has our hospital name on it! We can't trust the board for anything!"

“But… what can we do?” Penelope questioned, feeling hopeless.

“We’re the smartest nurses in this whole shithole,” (Y/N) spoke.

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but she needed Penelope to believe her, or at least stop her from reporting Andrew so that he could escape.

Why does she care so much about a wrongdoer? He should be in prison, he should pay for what he’s done, but for some reason there’s a stabbing sensation in her chest at just the thought of not seeing him again. The feeling was almost as painful as the bleeding wound she currently had.

She needed new bandages, she’s been putting too much stress her body. She would ask Penelope, but she’d rather not stick around with Penelope any longer. Sure, having Penelope around would make it so she’s less likely to snitch, but there’s also the possibility that she could potentially catch (Y/N)’s unnatural behavior and go back on her words.

"I-I just... what if we're making the wrong choice? I can't stand the thought that someone can get hurt." Penelope spoke.

(Y/N) almost felt sorry for the young nurse. The nurse was only three years older than her, yet she seems utterly more helpless in life than (Y/N). Penelope has a bad luck streak with everything. She's terrible at math and doing her taxes. She's terrible at thinking for herself. She's grown up from foster home to foster home. Every relationship she's been in has been disastrous.

(Y/N) would care if Penelope didn’t have such an unhealthy obsession about finding love. The whole reason she became a nurse was to try and nurse someone to health so they’d love her; it’s almost sad, really.

“I just can’t believe it…” Penelope groaned, burying her face into her hands. “Why are the cute guys always so unstable?”

Nevermind. (Y/N) doesn’t feel sad for her at all. Absolutely no pity. Void of emotion. She was almost considering the idea of murdering Penelope. Seriously, you're caring about how cute a guy is despite him being a major threat to your life? Should you really be focusing on a cannibal's looks.

(Y/N) decided to bite her tongue. There was no reason to start a fight (that, and maybe she's just a bit guilty of this as well...) It still didn't stop the bubbling pot boiled inside her stomach and chest as she glared at Penelope though.

“Penelope, can you go find my nurse? I need a new change of bandages.” (Y/N) grumbled, desperate for Penelope to leave her as she sat back down on her bed, wincing as she overstrained herself once more.

Maybe cornering and intimidating a person while injured isn’t the best course of action.

“O-oh, right! Sure!” Penelope spoke, popping up from her makeshift ball as she stood up from her chair. “Whats your nurse’s name? I’ll go find them.”

“I don’t know their name. I didn’t met them, only my doctor.” (Y/N) explained.

“Oh, okay then. Well, I’ll ask around and see if I can find them.” Penelope spoke, walking to the door. “Door open or closed?”

“Close it.” (Y/N) answered.

Penelope nodding, closing the door and leaving (Y/N) to her own devices. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief that Penelope was gone; however, there were other things to worry about.

She needed to figure out a way to solve the Andrew situation. She could talk to Andrew herself and see if he has any insurance. She might be able to judge if he’s lying or not about knowing anything, if Andrew’s a good liar or not, that is.

She almost felt compelled to leave her room and go to Andrew’s. She could tell him what happens; no health insurance means paying the full entirety of the bills, which could be five digits to possibly even six after all his car, special requests/needs, surgeries, and days he’s spent admitted.

It’s fine… she just needs to sleep. She can deal with it another day. If she sleeps now, time will pass quicker and she can get discharged.

She closed her eyes, seeing nothing but darkness as she used her drawback to escapism once more, distancing herself from reality as she did her best not to think about her patient.

And chapter 5 is done! I do apologize for it being so long, I wasn't planning on it being so long but I guess I did get a bit carried away... Chapter 6 will have quite a bit of drama and new characters being introduced! Now I just have to get chapter 6 done... which I'm unsure of when will be done, but it's in the works already! Thank you for your patience and for reading, and I'm excited for you all to see the development of (Y/N) and Andrew!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, current chapter, chapter 6, Chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

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stellar-constellations · 2 months

Text

Star Patient: Chapter 6 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), descriptions of self-harming, accusations of cheating, child death, death of major and minor characters, OC's are used throughout the story for plot and depth, reader is in denial and paranoid, toxic family dynamics, perversive thoughts, reader is bipolar (not saying that in a quirky way, like literally bipolar), religious comparisons, light mention of demons, stalkers, possibly more to add.

Inaccurate canon-timeline and setting (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents). They also live in America (because I wasn't aware they lived in Europe prior to this series).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 15,700+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, current chapter, Chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

Hello, my stars. Before starting this, I wanted you all to know I've updated my warnings. I'm telling you this to warn my sensitive readers who might get triggered or uncomfortable.

Warnings: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), descriptions of self-harming, accusations of cheating, child death, death of major and minor characters, OC's are used throughout the story for plot and depth, reader is in denial and paranoid, toxic family dynamics, perversive thoughts, reader is bipolar (not saying that in a quirky way, like literally bpd), religious comparisons, demons, stalkers, possibly more to add.

Please note, this series is NOT to romantize, glamorize, normalize, or encourage ANY of this behavior that we see throughout the story.

I also have playlists for you to listen to while reading this, or just to listen to in general if you're looking for new music!

Thank you for reading this section.

------------------------

“Alright Ms. (L/N), you’re free to be discharged. Do you have a ride home?” her doctor questioned, signing her discharge forms, consenting to the leave.

“Yes, sir.” She nodded.

She just planned on driving back home herself. Sure, it was dangerous, but she did come here with a bleeding leg, so she sure as hell can leave with a bandaged one.

“Alright… Good. And, just a little rundown on what you’ll need to do. Please keep your leg elevated with your heart whenever possible. I signed for you to get two weeks off work, that way you wouldn’t be applying any weight onto your leg. Please keep eating liquids or non-solid for at least a week; so like jellos and puddings and soups. You should know the procedure, we need the inner staples to heal and it'll be good not to tear the stitches.” The doctor explained to her.

“I also scheduled a appointment for you to visit me next week so we can hopefully check and remove your staples on your outer stomach if all is good, and if so, we’ll decide to give you the green light to eat solids or not. Please avoid wetting or poking the staples and stitches.” The doctor spoke, wrapping up his speech.

“Thank you, sir.” (Y/N) smiled, taking the discharge papers from the doctor’s hands.

“Do you need any help finding the exit?” the doctor questioned as her nurse removed the IV needle from (Y/N)’s veins, placing a piece of cotton on the bleeding hole and medical tape to hold the cotton in place.

“No, sir. I’ll be just fine… I have to make a quick visit anyways…” (Y/N) spoke.

The doctor left the room after (Y/N) took the papers from him, the nurse following after the doctor. (Y/N) stood up and resisted the urge to stretch, that would just strain and possibly snap any stitching or stapling.

She looked at the clothes the nurse left on her bedside. (Y/N) snatched the clothes and walked to the bathroom, locking the door. Because her clothes were ruined yesterday with blood and had to be cut in the emergency room, she was given paper scrubs from the hospital to wear. Sure, they sucked and were flimsy, but it was better than leaving naked. Hospitals can only do so much.

(Y/N) put on the fabric and her shoes (that were fortunately in one piece). She unlocked the bathroom, walking out and exiting the hospital room. She walked to the elevators, entering one and pressing the psychiatric floor.

She waited for the elevators doors to open, exiting them once they did. She walked down the hallways with a limp, ignoring it as she made her way to Andrew’s room. She knocked on the door to announce her presence, before opening the door.

Andrew was awake this morning, a bit unusual given how late he stayed up with her last night, but perhaps he couldn’t sleep much. Maybe he has a headache? That brain surgery was only a free days ago, so maybe he's experiencing some pain.

“Hey, are you okay?” (Y/N) questioned, disturbing him from looking out the window.

Andrew’s head snapped over to her once he heard her voice. He looked surprised, and his electric green eyes looked a little puffy and red, like he was about to cry; however there were no tears streaming down his face, as if he was refusing to cry.

“Andrew? Are you okay?” (Y/N) repeated, concerned as she limped over to him, taking a seat on the guest chair.

“Ahem, yeah. I’m fine…” he covered his mouth and coughed, turning his head away from her. “Do you need something?” he questioned.

“I’m getting discharged, so I won’t see you for at least two weeks, possibly even longer.” (Y/N) explained, her eyes subconsciously glancing over his figure and observing his state

His black hair was messy—as it usually was—and he still remained pale, with the exception of red rings around his eyes and a blush on his nose. His broken legs were elevated to his heart by keeping pillows under his legs. He didn’t have any bandages wrapped around his head anymore since his staples weren’t bleeding anymore after his brain surgery. His breathing patterns looked normal and he doesn’t appear to be sweating, so it’s safe to say the doctors got rid of the internal bleeding problem.

“Because I’m leaving, I need you to behave for the night nurses and day nurses.” She spoke, as if trying to communicate with a child.

“It won’t matter…” he muttered, his voice deep and gravely, sounding as if he was in pain.

“What, why? What’s wrong?” (Y/N) questioned, subconsciously leaning closer to him with a look of confusion on her face.

“They’re discharging me tonight.” Andrew spoke, his voice raising its volume so she could hear better.

“Why, that’s great s it not?” she questioned, mentally cringing as she tried her best to gauge a reaction out of him, hoping that he could explain more. “You won’t be stuck here anymore. You’re healing.”

“No… I-“ he paused, unsure if he should speak about the thoughts swirling in his head. “I-I can’t leave. I can’t.”

“Why not?” (Y/N) questioned.

Andrew stayed quiet, his eyes stuck staring at his hands that laid in his lap, seemingly ashamed to look up at her.

“Andrew, what’s wrong?” (Y/N) repeated, standing up from the chair and bringing herself closer to Andrew, sitting down at his bedside gently so she wouldn’t disturb his legs.

“Don’t you understand…?” he muttered, his tone going down a dark notch. “I can’t leave you…”

“Huh?” (Y/N) audibly spoke, voicing a noise of confusion as she looked at him, more so confused now rather than concerned.

Why can’t he leave? Is it because of Ashley? Oh god, does he know Ashley's dead? That I killed her? Can he not leave me because he wants revenge? (Y/N) questioned inside her head, her nerves eating her up.

“Andrew, I need you to tell me so I can help you. Surely we can—“ Andrew’s hands went up to her shoulders and gripped them tightly, his vibrant green eyes suddenly looking a little more of a toxic color, one to warn others that they’re dangerous.

“Don’t you understand, damn it?!” Andrew shouted, his nails unconsciously digging into her skin and the flimsy scrubs the hospital provided her with. “Are you an idiot or something? I can’t leave! I can’t do anything!”

(Y/N) looked surprised, her feet trying to take a step back but his hold on her wouldn’t allow that. She looked a bit scared, cowering despite him being the one bedridden.

Her previous thoughts of getting caught was instead replaced with being trapped. The room suddenly felt more smaller while Andrew yelled at her. The white walls suddenly looked like they were closing in, the pale color looking damn similar to an asylum instead.

“I should’ve at least taken up Ashley’s offer on escaping this damn place!” Andrew spoke, shaking her back and forth with a crazed look in his eyes.

Yes, terrifying. That’s why she decided not to work with adults and chose kids instead. Adult men are just scary for her. Having an erratic episode like this is a pain when you’re dealing with kids, but an adult man with a deep yelling voice towering you and shaking you like a rag doll is just plain terrifying. Especially knowing the fact they could definitely overpower you. Hospitals drug up their patients all the time to where patients think irrationally, and there's always the patients that believe they're the customer who is always right; giving them all a sense of authority or inability to understand their wrongdoings, whether they have a god complex or just drugged. It's always going to be dangerous.

It brings a shiver down her spine. If this is the effect Andrew has by just yelling at her and shaking her a bit, she’s scared to know what he could do with no broken limbs.

He seemed to go on an angry, mindless rant as he shook her back and forth. At this point, she might be the one getting internal bleeding in her brain because of this.

“If anything, I should’ve just died! But now I’m royally fucked because of you and these fucking doctors!” Andrew shouted.

A patient threatening suicide? Much less a patient on suicide watch? That’s not good, especially if he’s threatening suicide while almost being discharged. He could stay in this unit for mental health evaluation if he actually tries something. He’s lucky that she’s not on the clock, otherwise she would be forced to chart that.

She mustered her nerves and grabbed his wrists, looking down at him and doing her best to keep a gentle facade.

“Hey Andrew, let’s calm down and figure this out…” she spoke. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help."

“I-I just—“ Andrew’s pissed-off expression changed, his grip on her shoulders loosening as he let out a sigh. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

So he noticed…

“I’m scared…” he admitted, his hand going up and playing with her hair, twirling it around her fingers, ignoring that it hasn’t been washed in a couple days due to the accident. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t go back to—“ he paused, stopping himself. “H-home. I can’t go back home because I don’t remember it.” He lied.

He can’t go back to his apartment complex and be locked up in that room again. He can’t. Hell, maybe the complex actually burnt down like the news has been saying. But he has no home now, and if he goes to a shelter they might ask for documents or for identification, both of which he doesn’t have.

He can’t go to his parents. With his face on the news and being indebted to them again? Please, anything but that. He’s already done enough for them. He purposely didn’t write his parents’ names and numbers down when the doctors made him file paperwork because he didn’t want to see them again.

And he might go insane if he has to live with Ashley again. The hospital has been boring, yes, but at least he could actually think with some quiet. No more killing people or cannibalizing people or worrying about future visions or any of that crap. He could actually enjoy some peace for once. He loves his sister, but it's about time for them to act like adults and have their own lives.

And god, the money to pay back the hospital. He doesn’t have that kind of money. His whole bill must well be 20,000 dollars, possibly even more. He doesn’t even have a job! He’s not entirely sure if he remembers his banking information, and he doubts he has health insurance he can remember!

“I-I just… don’t remember anything.” He spoke, a half truth and half lie. “I don’t have parents.” Another lie. “I don’t remember where I live.” Another lie. “I have no money to pay off all this debt I’ll be in.” A possible (?) lie. “I have no job.” True. “I-I don’t know what to do. I’m fucked.” Andrew spoke, tears filling up in his eyes as he chuckled in possible disbelief, his hands going to his face to cover it.

Yeah, that sounds like a shitty situation… (Y/N) thought, pushing down that fear he installed in her earlier as she hesitantly stayed next to him, uncertain what to do.

She’s never had to deal with this kind of situation. Her patients are kids, and they don’t usually worry about money or healthcare or such things an adult worries about. Fixing someone's IV needle and fixing their bank account is two very separate things.

Honestly, it’s pretty sad. Adults have it rough. Most people now in America hesitate to call an ambulance because of the bill for that alone, ranging from $400 to more than a thousand for the ride to a hospital alone.

She doesn’t blame him for being mad, she’d be pretty pissed in his situation too.

“And, are you absolutely positive?” (Y/N) questioned, her hand resting on his wrist and drawing small circles to soothe him. “Do you really have nowhere else to go once you leave? Or any money or such at all?”

“No…” he answered, a loss of hope in his voice as he resisted the urge to cry.

“Okay… it’s okay.” (Y/N) spoke as Andrew kept playing with her hair.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to scare you…” he muttered. “Please don’t leave me. I-I don’t know what to do and I’m scared and…” he paused, uncertain of the next words about to come out of his mouth. “I-I just need you. I need your help.”

God, not the damn puppy eyes… (Y/N) though, nothing how his bright green eyes cleared of any malicious intent from earlier, now just glossy and filled with tears threatening to spill out.

He looked like he really didn’t want to leave her (or maybe it’s because he just really needs her help) and that just pulled her heartstrings.

Think, (Y/N). You’re a nurse. You gotta be quick on your feet and think of a solution… (Y/N) thought, wracking her brain for a solution.

“What if…” she paused, thinking.

Would that really be a good idea? He’s a male after all. The last guy she dealt with was a total psycho…

No, it’s probably not a good idea, considering he’s on the run and he’s a cannibal. But she doesn’t know his whole story, so she can’t judge so quickly…

Not to mention she’s a murderer herself now. Even if she killed a wrongdoer, she still killed someone.

But is it really a good comparison? Is it really so bad for her to kill just one life after saving many others?

Now that’s just sociopathic thinking…

“What if you stay with me?” (Y/N) suggested, doing her best to keep her tone confident.

“What?” Andrew questioned, unsure if he heard that correctly.

Did she actually just say that?

“What if you stay with me?” (Y/N) repeated, forcing herself to act like it wasn’t a big deal. “I mean, it wouldn’t be bad. I have the space. It’d be good for you too, I can still help with your bandages and elevating your legs and such, make sure there’s nothing going wrong during your healing process and that you’re still sticking to the treatment plan. I can pay the medical bills and you’ll work it off for me over time, until you’re able to get back on your own two feet.”

Ha. Pun intended… (Y/N) thought, resisting the urge to chuckle.

“You’re really serious? You’re not pulling my leg or anything, right?” Andrew questioned, surprised as he sat up, wincing at the pain in his legs and head from the sudden movement.

“Hey, take it easy.” (Y/N) reminded, placing her hand on his shoulder to stop him (and to hide her shaky hands).

She decided it wasn’t the time to freeze up or think, thinking would just make her panic to what she just offered.

“And I’m serious. If you need a place to stay, you can come to mine.” (Y/N) spoke. "Nobody should have to pay to live, it’s just… sad.”

Even if it is sad that you have to pay to live, that’s just life. There’s a reason why. Not many people would do things for free. Currency was made to pay others for their labor, rewarding them for a job done right. The more money, the more luxurious your life is… sometimes…

There’s not many people in the world who would save a stranger’s life and expect nothing in return. Especially when you’re working hours to days at a time keeping people alive and healthy, it just wears you down overtime to where that paycheck is the only thing you’re looking forward to. Nurses work for money, and the ones that enjoy helping people instead start to despise them due to their ugly flaws revealing themselves in their states of venerability. Nurses and doctors see more ugly things in people than they do in infections.

Well, as long as you do your job, the paychecks won’t die; unlike the patients.

“So? What do you say?” (Y/N) questioned, looking down at Andrew with a forced smile.

Don’t think about the offer. If you don’t think, you wouldn’t contemplate about how absolutely idiotic that suggestion was. Seriously, allowing a cannibalistic serial killer into your home all alone? Let alone a man.

The thought was indeed distasteful, but her mouth was quicker than her brain, and she already offered it. It would be cruel to give him false hope and swipe that right under his nose.

Andrew wasn’t too sure if he wanted to take up that offer. Sure, it’d save his ass from the streets, but it’d also leave him indebted to her, which can give her an upper hand to take advantage of him. It’s also worth noting that his face is probably still in the news somewhere, which could be bad if she finds out and reports him to the police…

But maybe there’s the chance that she’s not well-informed or active in the community or news? Maybe the whole news will blow over soon and she’ll never know?

It’s better than nothing…

“If you’re really sure…” Andrew muttered. “Then I’ll take you up on your offer. I’ll repay you.” He spoke.

Great. (Y/N) thought, fantastic and nervous.

“I’ll get an uber for you. I need to get some stuff settled at my house beforehand. What’s your discharge time?” (Y/N) questioned.

“One P.M.” Andrew answered.

“Okay, at one P.M. you’ll go to the front of the hospital and I’ll get an uber for you so they can drop you off at my place.” (Y/N) explained, clapping her hands together to avoid the awkwardness of parting ways. “Well… I’ll see you later.” She spoke, forcing a smile.

She didn’t give him time to speak or say goodbye, leaving the room before she could dwell longer. She needed to bury Ashley’s body before someone finds it, she needed to deep clean her apartment, and she needed to mentally prep herself for Andrew’s arrival.

She took her discharge papers and entered the elevator, pressing the lobby floor and waiting. The doors opened and she exited the box, walking out to the lobby and out the glass doors. She unlocked her car and entered, turning the key in the engine and taking a deep breath, preparing herself for the day traffic and using her injured leg to drive.

She turned on the radio to a random adults hit channel, before backing out of the parking lot and taking off. She made a quick pit stop at a hardware store, buying one of those stupid state merchandise shirts, a pair of shorts, a pair of gardening gloves, some hair ties, water bottles, and a shovel. She paid in cash (thank god the emergency gas money she kept in her car since she didn't have her purse) and drove an hour out to that forest she put Ashley in.

(Y/N) prayed to whatever god she believed in, or at least prayed to herself that luck would be on her side, and parked somewhere in the sticks. She fumbled around the backseat and changed out of the flimsy paper scrubs to that cheap state shirt and shorts she bought in the hardware store, tying up her hair with a cheap hair tie.

She grabbed her supplies and exited her car, locking it. It took at least twenty minutes before she was able to pick up the dead body smell, following the stench to Ashley’s body. The blankets she was wrapped in didn’t look tampered with, so maybe nobody found the body beforehand.

(Y/N) made quick work, putting on the gardener gloves and grabbing a shovel, finding a patch of loose dirt and started digging.

Six-foot grave my ass, if she buried that deep then she might not be able to get out of the hole. (Y/N) settled on a four foot grave, digging and making sure to take breaks so she wouldn’t snap any stitches or staples.

At least two or three hours later, she was able to roll Ashley’s body into the hole. Staring at the bloodied cloth was just so unsettling… a reminder of what she’s done.

She’s seen plenty of blood and gore before, but she’s never been the cause of it (or at least, she’s never punctured skin for anything other than the intent to help someone).

It felt right to say something, a little memoir or a speech or something.

She grabbed some big rocks and made an imaginary audience, setting them near the grave as (Y/N) stood before it.

“Today, we are here to celebrate life and remember the loss of it…” (Y/N) began.

Yep, killing someone who tried to kill you first, then proceeding to make a whole damn memoir of them… that’s totally normal and not something someone unhinged would do. Or maybe it’s just because she’s a really compassionate person and feels sorry for killing her. Maybe a bit of both.

“Ashley Graves was the younger sister of Andrew Graves. She was… passionate and determined.” (Y/N) spoke awkwardly, clasping her hands together, ignoring the dirt itching them inside the glove.

“We’re here to celebrate her life and youth. While she died young, she stayed golden. She was very pretty, and I’m sure she accomplished something in her life at one point…” (Y/N) rambled.

“I don’t know much about her, and I would’ve brought her brother here too if I wasn’t so concerned about him killing me too. I’m already digging one grave, I don’t need to dig my own too… or one for Andrew…” (Y/N) muttered, hiding that last part from the rock audience with a cough.

“Too soon to joke? Yeah… that was a bit hard… like rock.” (Y/N) chuckled too herself. “I’m sorry, sorry! This is a rocky start…” (Y/N) giggled, before her smile dropped, reality coming back and hitting her.

“Fucking hell… I hate myself.” (Y/N) groaned, dropping down to her knees and covering her face with her hands, before coughing and spitting once the dirt on her gloves got in her mouth and eyes.

When she got the dirt out of her eyes and mouth, she settled for staring at the dead body. Ashley died young and she was pretty, surely there must've been something good Ashley could've done with her future.

It really didn’t have to be this way, perhaps an agreement could’ve been made. While Ashley threatened her first, (Y/N) attacked her first, provoking her by spraying perfume in Ashley’s eyes.

“Oh fuck…” (Y/N) groaned, pulling the strands of hair that has fell from her hair tie after her manual labor. “I’m really burying a body of a young woman. One I killed no less…” she muttered to herself, wishing that this all could’ve just been one big dream.

A dream that she met some fugitives on the run, that she stooped so low as to murder another so violently and decided to house another. That she had to witness her favorite patient die after spending three years with her.

Honestly, she wished everything in her life was a dream. She wished being neglected and locked into a room for hours upon a time, sleeping and crying and famished, was a dream. She wished the relentless bullying throughout her school years was a dream. She wished all the pressure and stress she set upon her, forcing herself to grow out of childhood early so she could focus on the future, was a dream. She wished that disgusting and obsessive man was a dream, that he never sent those letters or took her to court or even did anything he did.

No, she didn’t wish it was a dream; she wished it was a nightmare. Dreams are meant to be enjoyed, or at least allow yourself into a false sense of security to enjoy momentarily.

The constant harassment, the constant paranoia, the constant loneliness, the constant emptiness. She’d rather not torture herself in the dream world either.

Before Hailey died, she asked (Y/N) what she would like to be surrounded by, and (Y/N) said “beds” because she liked sleeping. She left it at that so she wouldn’t disturb the bittersweet moment as Hailey died. Perhaps if Hailey was older, or a friend rather than a patient, (Y/N) might have told her the truth.

Sure, beds are comfortable. A de-stressing spot for her and many others alike. Being bundled up in warmth and motherly affection she never experienced in her life, seeking comfort from an inanimate object to replace her own mother's nonexistent affection.

Beds are also comfortable when you die. Lots of people die in their beds. Most people imagine that they’ll die surrounded by their loved ones, peacefully succumbing to death. (Y/N)’s never bothered contemplating death, she knew if she was going to die it would be suicide—or, at least she thought so. After Ashley trying to kill her and possibly Andrew being her potential killer too in the future if he ever finds out what she did, she’s not too sure how she’ll die now.

She’ll probably die from another depressive episode like starving herself and staying in bed, or some other health cause in her sleep. Whatever it is, her death bed would be made of cotton and polyester, she hopes. Perhaps in her will she'll write down she wants a twin-sized mattress in her coffin, at least make her death bed comfortable.

Everyday just feels like a struggle to get out of bed now.

“Ashley…” she began.

Now thinking about it, is it even right to speak Ashley’s name after she’s the cause of her death?

“I’m sorry for killing you, and for causing you whatever pain or paranoia you experienced to where you felt the best course of action was to kill me. Things could’ve possibly been different if I had just talked to you, but I didn’t, and for that, you’re gone and I'm still here.” (Y/N) spoke.

She wondered if Ashley enjoyed her life, what she had before she died. (Y/N) couldn't even enjoy all that she has, yet she still selfishly fought for her pathetic life, killing a woman who could've done better than her. Who could've accomplished more if she just fixed up her ways, if she just gave herself a second chance at living a true life.

(Y/N)'s had her chances, maybe happiness just wasn't for her. Maybe life just wasn't for her. Yet she's the one standing over the grave she should be in instead.

Maybe she should've just let Ashley kill her. Make all this pain and loneliness and paranoia just disappear like she wants to.

There was a moment of silence to respect the dead, before (Y/N) picked up the shovel and got to covering the body with dirt. It was faster to fill the grave than dig it, and she was able to finish after an hour. (Y/N) felt bad about it, but she stomped on the dirt to try and make sure it was packed and wasn’t loose. She grabbed the rock audience and scattered the rocks back where she found them so the grave wouldn't be suspiciously marked.

Maybe I’ll reserve flowers for Ashley too… (Y/N) thought to herself, before allowing there to be another moment of silence to mourn the loss of life.

After the silence, she walked back to her car, throwing the dirty supplies into the backseat of her car and hopping into the passenger seat. She buckled her seatbelt and drove out of the forest. Usually she would’ve taken a minute to at least desensitize her emotions so she can drive safely—or at least ponder why the hell she had a rock funeral back there—but she needed to get home and get her apartment in order.

Once (Y/N) made it inside her apartment complex, she rushed to see if anything was out of place inside her apartment, swinging open her door and observing the crime scene in her bedroom. It smelt of potent citrusy perfume with the hint of metallic blood wafting throughout her home.

Before (Y/N) left, she did a quick wipe down of her walls and floors in case the police would investigate her apartment. Why? Well, there's no reason other than classic paranoia and the fear of being face to face with a judge inside of a courtroom once more.

Yeah, been there, done that.

Despite her quick clean, obviously it wouldn't be enough to get rid of the evidence if the police truly did a deep investigation (that is, if they even her connected to the crime). Well, even if the police doesn't piece out the murder, Andrew might. Andrew is Ashley's sister, surely he must know enough about her to know if she's capable of committing murder, especially because they were partners in crime.

Key word: were.

(Y/N) glanced at the clock, seeing the time was 12 P.M. (Y/N) pulled out her phone and paid for an uber to pick Andrew up at the hospital entrance. His ride will be about thirty minutes if the traffic is good, so (Y/N) can only assume she'll have two hours to clean if she's lucky.

Surprisingly—for a sorry excuse of a woman—her apartment isn't trashed or damaged; it's pretty clean. (Y/N) always worried if her parents one day stopped by and entered her apartment. She really didn't want to hear her mother's berating comments or her father's comments on how she should move back to the farm and be safe there.

She also worried about having her neighbors suddenly knock on her door to talk to her, or her landlord entering. She didn't want to give the impression that she's lazy, and she didn't want to give the impression that she's depressed either; she'd rather not have others pity her in such ways. She's an adult, she needs to learn how to take care of herself eventually, otherwise how will she expect to take care of the kids at work? Let alone Andrew who will now reside in her home?

Oh gosh. How is she going to take care of Andrew? Shit. What if the neighbors see him and recognize him from on the news? What if the uber driver recognizes him? She'll go to jail for knowing he's a murderer and still helping him. She'll lose her job if they find out she's keeping a former patient at her apartment.

Damn it... damn it... damn it...

She paced around her bedroom in circles, her hands shaking and her legs weak as she started overthinking.

Jesus, what if he becomes crazy? Well, more crazy than a cannibalistic murderer can possibly be. What if he becomes like him? She'll have to move away again. She'll have to hide away before he finds her and ruins her life once more.

The vision of torn sugar papers stained with special red ink. The sounds of either paper or her sanity ripping as she screamed and stopped on the scraps, before scooping up the pieces and burning them outside in her father's grill. Or maybe it was the constant feeling of dread and being watched, resorting to her superiors, her friends, her family; just anyone to help her and to listen to her. But they just laughed in her face, or scowled at her.

"Stop searching for attention."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Why are you spreading rumors?"

"Well, did you do something to provoke him?"

The sound of the crackling fire as the embers of paper burned in the daylight was replaced with shattered glass and her grunts of frustration. She snapped back, looking down at the mess on her bedroom floor.

Damn it.

She shattered her vase, throwing it on the floor as it scattered to dozens of small blue and white pieces, the wave-decorated vase now ruined. Her precious lilacs she worked hard to growing now destroyed and lying in wet soil, the petals smushed, having been stomped on in her fit of rage.

(Y/N) stared at the mess for a minute or two—maybe five—before squatting down and hiding her head in her legs.

"Damn..." she hissed to herself, her anger at him instead being temporarily aimed at her. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." (Y/N) muttered, picking up one of the larger shards of glass.

She turned her uninjured arm over, revealing the past scars from her previous self-harming episodes. They all have healed a bit, still a prominent shade of red, but at least they weren't fresh.

She didn't hesitate, not even daring to waste a breath or reconsider her decision as she cut her wrist, watching as scarlet milk immediately started spilling down in a rapid stream.

Well, they were fresh now.

One cut turned into two, and two turned into four as the blood continued to pour. A painful stinging sensation shot up her arm, burning as the blood dripped down her arm and onto the floor.

"Fuck!" (Y/N) hissed, realizing what she had just done.

She dropped the bloodied shard onto the floor, clutching the bloody mess with her other hand, another painful sting crawling up her arm from tensing her muscles in her stitched arm. She groaned, dragging her feet to her bathroom and scurrying for her first-aid.

She opened the kit up, grabbing cotton balls and rubbing alcohol, wiping down her arm with the alcohol. It didn't sting as much like it should when rubbing alcohol is applied to a wound, it's probably expired—if not already—so she'll need to go buy a new bottle. She kept applying pressure until the blood eventually stopped, then checked on the cuts.

Luckily, the cuts weren't near her wrists and they weren't deep either. It was a miracle she didn't cut a vein open, otherwise she'd have to go right back to the hospital. It seemed in her impulsive decision, she just cut without bothering to look where, slicing up the fat on her arm near her elbow.

(Y/N) hastily grabbed a large cotton patch, then wrapped gauze around it tightly, securing it with medical tape. There was blood on her clothes but she wasn't too worried about it, she was going to change out of the tacky merchandise clothing anyways, especially with the dirt on it.

She decided that while she was in the bathroom she might as well bathe quickly. She ignored the stinging spikes shooting throughout her arms as she peeled off her shirt and bra, kicking off her shoes and socks, taking off her shorts and panties. She threw the clothing on the ground and untied her hair (after some struggle, the hair tie came off with strands of hair attached), placing the hair tie down on the counter. She turned on the faucet and adjusted it to a bearable temperature, hopping into the bathtub.

She didn't sit down, standing up so she wouldn't soak her staples or stitches. She grabbed a washrag, dumping it in the water and wringing it of excess water, before carefully going over her surrounding wounds to clean the skin. Once she finished, she proceeded to wipe down her entire body, before applying soap to the rag and washing herself, making sure to avoid getting soap in her wounds. After finishing soaping down and rinsing her skin, she dipped her hair in the water, lathering and scrubbing and rinsing her hair with shampoo and conditioner.

After finishing her bath, she exited the tub and drained the water. She grabbed towel and carefully dried off, wrapping the towel around her body and walking out to her bedroom. She grabbed a random bra and a baggy, cotton sweater so she could cover her arms and hopefully not rub too much on her stitches and avoid irritating them. She grabbed a skirt and panties, putting them on, along with clean socks (ones that were not bloody).

After dressing herself and sorting out her hair, she exited the bathroom and walked to her supply closet in the hallway, grabbing supplies for mopping, a broom and dustpan, hydrogen peroxide, a scrubber, glass cleaner, duster, etc. She had an hour and a half to clean up the place, which isn't too bad for a simple clean. (Y/N) cleans her apartment weekly, while it's a pain, she didn't want any neighbors knocking on her door and seeing her place trashed. She didn't want to risk a sudden drop in from her parents or such (she'd rather not hear their complaints). She had a reputation to uphold outside of her home and she couldn't afford anymore damage to it. Even after moving across the country, her reputation is held together by cheap duct tape.

She stared at her ruined flowers that rested on the ground, kicked on the ground and smashed over like roadkill. Once more, a good thing ruined with no-one to blame but herself.

The uber ride was extremely uncomfortable. It felt almost suffocating to be trapped in such a small space with a stranger. Andrew worries if the driver will look in the rearview mirror and recognize him, drive him down to the police station and turn him in instead of arriving safely at (Y/N)'s home.

That's not the worst of his problems, he completely forgot to tell Ashley where he's going or what's happening (wherever she is, he hasn't seen her for a few days now...)!

He feels a bit excited to have a place to go to, especially knowing it's (Y/N) he's returning to, but there's also a nauseating feeling in his stomach, a dropping weight sinking his inner organs with doubt. That feeling was replaced with a sense of fear, wondering what happened to Ashley. He hasn't heard from her in days and she has absolutely no clue of his whereabouts. He doesn't even know where she's been staying at these past days, if she even had a roof under her head or food in her stomach—at least he ate food from the hospital, granted the quality wasn't great but it was still something.

The uber pulled up to the curb in front of an apartment complex. The concrete on the ground had cracks and plastic wrappers from nearby fast food places, and the bushes out front looked overgrown and had more twigs and branches than it did green leaves. The outside walls were painted a tan, looking sun-bleached with flakes of paint peeling from the walls.

He stepped out of the car with the aid of crutches, no luggage to carry as he muttered a thanks to the driver, shutting the car door. He wiped the imaginary dirt off his ripped jeans. He managed to get his clothes back from the hospital after his discharge (luckily, they didn't have any rips or bloodstains that made the clothes unwearable) thanks to the nurses washing them for him prior to his release.

�� The apartment complex had multiple different buildings with alphabetical letters on them, each building having two levels and at least eight different staircases, so there must've been about sixteen apartments in each building. He wasn't sure which apartment (Y/N) lived in, she never gave him a number, but luckily he didn't have to go knocking door to find it as she spotted (Y/N) climbing down a set of concrete stairs. (Y/N) rushed over to him with a friendly smile, wearing a baggy, muted pink sweater and a black skirt.

"Andrew!" (Y/N) greeted, rushing over to his side, smelling of lemon and cleaning bleach. "I'm sorry for being so inconsiderate, I should've helped you get out of the car. Your legs are still injured and need to heal up."

"Hey, it's fine..." Andrew spoke through gritted teeth, forcing a smile.

Her hair was down just as it was when she was a patient in the hospital, except she looked so beautiful now without that damn paper gown—those gowns didn't do her any justice. Her hair looked brighter, even looking softer in the sunlight—or maybe that's because she had access to a shower. Her smile looked as bright as the burning star in the sky shining its UV rays down onto them, if not brighter. Her skin was a more healthy color in contrast to how pale it looked in the hospital's lighting—perhaps her skin was softer too. He wondered how her hands would feel now that she was free from the hospital's gloomy and depressing atmosphere, how it would feel under his own hands, before he forced those thoughts away for now.

"My apartment is B04." (Y/N) informed, waving bye to the uber before guiding Andrew to her apartment. "I'm sorry for the stairs. Hopefully in a few months you can walk up and down them without any issue."

She guided him to a set of stairs, walking behind him so she could catch him in case he fell. When they made it to the top, she walked ahead and opened a white door with very little dirt on it and only minimum paint peeling near the bottom of it. She twisted open the gold doorknob, pushing open the door and holding it for him, watching as he limped into the apartment.

Andrew took a moment to observe the clean wooden floors, now understanding why he caught the whiff of lemon and cleaning product on her. She had a small table near the entrance with a small white and blue vase (similar to the one she broke in her room earlier). The vase had forget-me-nots, a classic flower representing depression despite how tragically beautiful they are. How cliché.

The walls had no paintings or pictures, her walls painted a bright white that gave the apartment a modern and bright feeling. The living room had grey carpeting, a comfortable looking couch with some blankets and pillows to sleep or relax on, a table in front of the couch and a TV hanging on the wall.

"Here, here. Rest your legs." (Y/N) spoke, pressing her hand against Andrew's back, creating a sudden zap of lightning that spread throughout his body as she sat him down on her couch.

"You don't have to worry about me." Andrew chuckled, a small smile resting on his lips.

He looked far more comfortable here than he was at the hospital, seeming to smile easier. His skin even looked a bit healthier, though that could've just been the hospital lighting and blood loss. His charcoal hair looked shiny, but not because it looked healthy, more so it was greasy. Who knew the last time he showered.

"Do you want to go shower?" (Y/N) questioned, before mentally hitting herself at how weird that sounded.

Judging by the look on his face, he thought it was a little random too.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out so weird..." she laughed, flustered. "I meant, would you like to shower? Not to be mean, but your hair looks a little greasy, and I don't know when you last showered. It'd be bad to have your wounds dirty and get infected."

"Oh." Andrew audibly voiced, resisting the urge to cover his hair at the realization.

The last time he showered must've been back at his old apartment complex, at least almost a week ago. He hasn't been worrying much about his appearance since the discovery of cultists, demons, and hitmen chasing after him has appeared.

"Right, that's a good idea..." He smiled bashfully, almost embarrassed to be seen this way.

He knew he was at least decently attractive, never putting too much thought in his clothes or appearance so long as he was clean (which he wasn't at the moment).

"Yeah, no worries..." She smiled, placing her hands on his waist as she helped him up from the couch, guiding him to her bathroom.

She opened the door and flipped the light switch, enveloping the room in bright light. The tiles were a shiny white, and the walls were a baby blue, a white tub with a silver shower head hanging from the wall. Her bathroom counter was clean, nothing cluttered on other than some hairdressing machines such as a hairdryer, straightener, curling iron, hair products, etc. She had some cabinets and drawers he'll peek into later, and an empty trashcan by the toilet. There was a laundry basket pushed up to the wall, and hooks to hang towels on the door.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any men shampoo or body wash..." (Y/N) apologized, picking up one of her soap bottles that sat on the bathtub's edge. "I hope you don't mind smelling like... Niacinamide and apple extract." She spoke, reading the front label.

"Better than nothing." He smiled.

"That's the spirit." She smiled, patting his shoulder. "Here, I'll rundown the process with you."

She sat down inside the tub, her feet hanging off the side in a semi-uncomfortable looking position. "I don't want you standing on your feet, so please sit down like this. It'll also help you from getting your stitches wet. Remember, don't get your stitches wet."

He would've paid more attention to what she was saying, but he was a bit distracted, his hearing a little muffled as he took in the sight of her. It's not very lady-like to sit in a tub (fully clothed, he hated) with your legs hanging off the side in a way that made your skirt ride up your thighs. He tried his best to keep his attention on her face, but it was hard to as his eyes kept subconsciously drifting down.

"So, the staples on your head is fine to get wet, just please be careful when you scrub so you don't tug on them, and make sure to rinse your hair really good. Be really careful when you brush your hair too so you don't tug on the staples. For your legs, you're going to need to wash them using a rag so you don't wet your stitches. Make sure not to get any soap in them either." She explained to him in depth, unaware how her words were going in one eat and out the other. "When you're done, pat your hair and body dry so the towel doesn't pull any stitches or staples."

(Y/N) stood up from the tub (with a little struggle due to her position), breaking Andrew from his thoughts.

"Do you got all that?" she questioned, smoothing down her skirt.

"Y-yeah." He muttered, avoiding her eyes in shame.

"Good." She smiled innocently. "Do you need any clothes?" she questioned, bending down to her cabinets and grabbing a clean towel and washrag.

"No. These clothes are fine... The nurses washed them before giving them to me." He explained, watching as she bend down, rising up and handing him the two items.

"You can put your towel on the hook, and put the washrag in my laundry basket." She directed. "Anything else?"

"No, thank you." He spoke, sparing her a small thankful smile.

"You don't have allergies or anything, right?" (Y/N) questioned, leaning on the door frame.

"No, I don't." He answered.

"So, anything you want for dinner? Do you have any dislikes?" she questioned.

"Anything's better than hospital food." He chuckled, leaning back on the toilet tank.

"Ha, you can say that again." She smiled. "I feel sorry for the patients that have to eat it, it's heated up in the back. I've had to eat it a few times because I've forgotten lunch and I didn't want to drive to some fast food joint." She hummed, moving off the door frame.

Yeah, he could definitely see that. He wouldn't want to go driving in the middle of the night around this crappy city, especially to some burger joint. It already sucks driving at night, but having to drive at night in a city is just worse thanks to people ignoring the crosswalks and jaywalking, or the random drunks popping out of nowhere on the road after a night with their friends in the club. You honk your horn at them to get off the road and they think it's a fun game to scream louder than your car horn and zigzag the streets in a game of chicken.

"But, I'll let you get to bathing. I just wanted your input for dinner." (Y/N) smiled. "Oh, also I'm on a soft food diet for a few weeks, but I won't have you suffering with me for it. I'll make sure to hook you up."

"Thank you." He chuckled, leaning his crutches on the wall next to the bathtub, placing his towel on the bathroom counter and the washrag on the bathtub's edge.

"Call me if you need anything." (Y/N) spoke, sending him a smile, before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her, leaving Andrew to his own devices.

Andrew let out a sigh he didn't even know he was holding. It was hard to look at her and pay attention to what she was saying after that eye candy, but somehow he managed. Luckily, he retained enough of what she said to where he can properly wash himself without damaging his stitches. He took off his black sweater and ripped jeans, observing his ankles.

He didn't need to wear casting anymore, but he still wore tight bandages to protect the stitch work and give a bit of support for the bone to heal itself. They had wired the small fractured bones together so the bones would stay in place. The thought of metal inside him made him a little squirmish, so he tried not to think much about it.

Andrew folded up his clothes, placing them down on the bathroom counter next to his towel. He glanced at the wooden laundry basket manufactured to look like a wicker basket in the corner, the cute little lid hiding her worn clothes that probably still smelled like her too.

He wondered if they'd share a laundry basket once he starts getting more situated around here. He wondered if they'd do their laundry together. If they'd cook meals together. If they'd decorate the house for the holidays together. If they'd wake up together in the same bed. Mundane and domestic little things like that he's unconsciously longed after for who knows how long.

He'll investigate her laundry along with her bathroom cabinets later. Right now, he doesn't want to take too long with this bath.

While Andrew cleaned himself up, (Y/N) browsed through her fridge, contemplating what to have for dinner. If she actually went to the grocery store, she’d have more food; however feeding herself hasn’t been much of a priority nowadays. Now that Andrew’s around, she’ll have to cook more to make sure he’s healthy and being cared for.

(Y/N) grabbed a package of Italian sausage that’s been in her fridge for a few days now. She unwrapped it, placing it on a frying pan over medium, before grabbing a pot and turning on the heat to low.

She grabbed some canned crushed tomatoes, tomato sauce, and Italian stewed tomatoes, throwing a can of each into the pot. Italian seasoning, basil, pepper, salt, oregano, minced garlic, and bay leaves all thrown into the pot. She would start a cooking stream if she wasn’t so insecure of herself.

She figured she’d just do an easy Italian goulash, it’s basically just spaghetti sauce with elbow noodles instead of angel hair.

After the meat finished cooking, she drained the grease and mixed the meat into the sauce. She grabbed another pot and filled it with water and some dashes of salt, waiting for it to boil. While she waited for that to boil, she started washing the dishes she dirtied and no longer needed.

(Y/N) absentmindedly spaced out while she washed the dishes. It’s weird how every time you wash the dishes, you’re either thinking of everything or nothing, nowhere in between. Perhaps you just disassociate to avoid the feeling of responsibility, or perhaps just to hurry up this annoying daily routine you have to do. It’s better to do the dishes than be featured in a before and after comparison picture for a housecleaning service on the newspaper (if anyone still reads those).

(Y/N) subconsciously peeked at the window, turning her attention to it. Normally she’d keep her curtains closed, but she wanted the room to be a bit brighter so she opened the curtains while cleaning.

A feeling of dread formed in her stomach like a whirlpool the longer she stared at the exposed window, causing (Y/N) turned off the faucet, drying off her hands. She quickly added some elbow noodles into the now boiling pot, then walked to the window in the dining room.

She closely observed the window’s lock, giving the window a tug to make sure the lock stayed in place. She grabbed a screwdriver from a small basket she kept on her kitchen counter, making sure to tighten up all the screws till they wouldn’t budge. She closely observed the screen protector, looking for any mild holes, cuts in the screen, or any fingertip smudges on the glass, before deeming it safe. You can never be too safe in the city—or anywhere for that matter.

She closed the curtains and pushed a small table back to the window wall, showcasing the innocent vase and flowers that rested in front of the window. The table was there in case any intruders broke in, that way there’d at least be a noise that would alert her if someone knocked down the table or vase.

(Y/N) went around the living room, observing the condition of every window and making minor adjustments to anything that needed to be done to ensure her safety was kept.

Andrew hobbled into the living room, fresh out of the bath as he stared at (Y/N), confused on what the hell she was doing running around the windows like a lunatic.

“Are you good?” Andrew questioned, causing (Y/N) to yelp and jump at least five feet in the air.

“Oh! Andrew!” (Y/N) gasped, holding her chest with her free hand. “You scared me. You’re very quiet.”

“Are you alright?” he repeated, hopping over to her side with the assistance of his crutches.

“I’m fine.” She smiled. “Just checking up on the windows. "You can never be too safe in the city, you know? Burglaries and murderers and all that!”

“Uh… Yeah… Yeah, that makes sense…” Andrew nodded, his thoughts drifting off.

She’s trying to keep herself safe from murderers like myself, Andrew thought, a bitter taste in his mouth at the idea of her not wanting him around (despite his belief that she doesn't know he's a murderer).

“Hungry?” (Y/N) questioned, an innocent smile from her face as she walked back into the kitchen.

“I might as well be starving.” He chuckled, even though he knew damn well what that felt like; famished and starving are two very distinct things.

“Well, dinner’s cooking and it won’t be any longer till it’s ready.” She hummed, watching as he followed her. “You like goulash, right? The Italian version?” she questioned, placing her screwdriver back into her counter’s basket.

“Basically spaghetti…” he smiled. “Yeah, I don’t mind it.”

“Good, good!” (Y/N) smiled, grabbing a spoon and stirring the noodles as they boiled. “I’m glad to hear. I just decided to play it safe tonight and do something easy. We both could use the rest.”

“Rest would be amazing.” Andrew spoke, hopping over to one of her kitchen stools and sitting down with a quiet groan.

“Speaking of rest... How is your legs?” (Y/N) questioned, turning her body to face Andrew, moving away from the stove, leaning her back on the kitchen counter as she crossed her arms.

“Oh, you know, they sting.” He hummed. “My ankles feel sore and there’s a dull throb every now and then, but hey, at least I’m still alive.”

Unfortunately. He thought to himself.

“Well, after dinner we can settle down and watch a movie.” She suggested. “Unless, you meant ‘rest’ as in you’re actually tired and want to sleep.”

“We’ll see after dinner…” He spoke. “I’m up for anything.”

“Sounds good.” She smiled. “And now that we mention dinner, it’s done.”

She grabbed a strainer and placed it in the sink, pouring the noodles in it to drain out the excess water. Once the noodles were drained, she mixed them in with the sauce, creating goulash.

She grabbed two bowls and scooped the pasta into the bowls, stabbing forks into the bowls before handing one to Andrew.

“There’s parmesan cheese in the fridge if you want some with it.” She spoke, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. “Water?” she questioned, looking at him.

“Yeah.” He answered with a nod, opening the fridge and scanning the shelves, before picking up the cheese and sprinkling it onto his pasta. “Thank you for cooking.”

“No worries.” She hummed, grabbing another glass and pouring water in it for him, handing him the glass.

Andrew accepted the water, giving her an appreciative nod as he followed her to the dining table, sitting down with her.

She had four chairs around her dining table, despite seeming to live alone (as far as he can see). Perhaps the chairs are for guests or just so the table wouldn’t look weird with one chair.

Andrew stabbed his fork into the pasta, taking a bite, allowing himself a moment to chew and process the flavors.

“Not bad.” He spoke, glancing over at her. “It tastes like spaghetti.”

“Thanks. It was basically the goal.” She chuckled, smiling.

“Are you normally a good cook? Or is pasta just all you make?” Andrew questioned, taking another bite as his eyes stayed focused on her.

“Oh, I just taught myself.” (Y/N) shrugged. "Cookbooks and the trial and errors."

“You’re good.” He hummed, taking a sip of his water.

“No, I’m not.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m pretty mediocre. I mean, cooking is a life skill so really I’m not good at it compared to others..."

He noticed her deflect the compliment and even shut it down, raising his eyes at her suspiciously. If he could kick her without hurting himself, he’d do it.

“Hey, I’m serious.” Andrew spoke, meeting her eyes. “You’re better than me, at least.”

(Y/N) adverted her eyes nervously, looking down at her food. Some butterflies flew around her stomach at the praise, or maybe her food was really just that bad.

It felt weird to talk during dinner. When she was a child having dinner at her parents, usually it was spent in either silence or her father usually talking up a storm while her mother ignored him. On the very rare occasion—when her mother did decide to acknowledge her—it was her sending passive-aggressive comments (Y/N)’s way and questioning her life goals and motives.

“So… clothes.” (Y/N) spoke up, picking up some goulash with her fork. “Unless you’re hiding a suitcase somewhere around here with clothes in it, we need to get you some clothes and other essentials. We can go shopping tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Andrew questioned, looking over at her surprised. “I mean, I can just keep wearing this until I get a job or something.”

“Gross.” (Y/N) spoke, making a face at the thought of him wearing the same attire for weeks to months on end.

“Hey, laundry exists, you know.” Andrew smiled, playfully pointing his fork at (Y/N).

“Yeah, no. You need more outfits, otherwise you’ll start looking boring.” She chuckled.

“Oh? Is my face not interesting enough?” Andrew questioned, teasing her as he sent her a wink.

“Oh please.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she felt her face heat up against her better wishes.

Oh god, I’m flirting with a murderer right now. (Y/N) thought, an almost nauseous feeling taking ahold of the butterflies in her stomach, causing them to burn in acid.

She wasn’t sure if being a murderer herself eased that nausea or worsened it.

Her doorbell rang, causing them both to shoot their heads up at the door.

Oh God, please don’t let it be him. (Y/N) thought, nervous. How did he even find me?

Ashley? Andrew thought, staring at the door. Please, don’t cause a scene. Please don’t scare (Y/N) off.

“I’ll get it.” (Y/N) spoke, forcing a smile as she stood up, her shoes tapping softly against the wooden planks.

(Y/N) walked to the front door, taking a deep breath before she opened the door, looking at who was in front of her abode.

Immediately, she slammed it back shut, panic creeping into her as a new wave of nausea hit her. She quickly rushed back to Andrew, ignoring the sting of her injured leg protesting at the rough movement, slamming her hands on the dining table.

“You and me are dating now.” (Y/N) spoke, seemingly breathless.

“W-wait, what?” Andrew blurted out, his eyes as wide as saucers and he looked at her, shocked.

“Just leave the talking to me.” (Y/N) spoke, before quickly rushing back to the front door, taking a second to smooth down her skirt and brush down her hair with her fingers.

She took a second to take a breath, then opened the door.

“Hi Papa! Hi Mama!” (Y/N) forced a smile, moving out of the doorway to let them in.

“Hey there, sport!” (Y/N)’s father spoke, ruffling her hair with his hand as he stepped into the hallway.

“About time you opened the door.” (Y/N)’s mother sighed, following her husband as she walked into the hallway, looking around at the empty walls. “You still haven’t hung anything up? It looks so gloomy in here.”

“I just haven’t found any decoration I like.” (Y/N) sighed, shutting the door behind her.

Mama? Papa? Andrew thought, shocked as he stared at the family.

He’s meeting her parents already? They just started dating a few seconds ago!

“Something’s smelling good! Are you cooking dinner?” her father questioned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked around at her simple apartment, before his eyes met Andrew.

Andrew and (Y/N)’s father shared a silent staring contest, before her father rushed over to where Andrew was sitting, slamming his hands on the table.

“Who the hell do you think you are in my daughter’s home?!” he shouted, the table shaking from the impact of his hands.

“Was he a one night stand?” her mother questioned, gliding over to the dining table, staring down at Andrew judgmentally.

“Hey, it’s okay!” (Y/N) spoke, rushing to her father’s side and doing her best to pull him back from Andrew. “He’s good!”

“Who is he?” her father questioned, his hands scrunching up table cloth with white knuckles.

“This is… my boyfriend, Andrew.” (Y/N) spoke, a embarrassed blush creeping up on her cheeks at her words as she managed to make some space between her father and Andrew.

“Boyfriend?” her mother questioned, a hint of surprise in her tone. “Shocking.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” her father questioned, before laughing. “Sorry about that son, I didn’t mean to scare you. My daughter just got some bad experiences with boys. But you’re a man, right? You wouldn’t hurt her?” he questioned, forcing Andrew’s hand in his own and squeezing the life out of Andrew’s hand.

“N-nice to meet you, sir…” Andrew spoke through gritted teeth, a forced smile on his face. “And no, sir... I don’t wish to hurt your daughter.”

“I’m Frank.” (Y/N)’s father, Frank, introduced himself as he shook Andrew’s hand, dropping the hand back to Andrew’s side.

“And I’m Rose.” (Y/N)’s mother spoke up.

Andrew offered a handshake to her, but she just looked at his hands with disgust. “I don’t do handshakes.”

“Right…” Andrew spoke awkwardly, dropping his hand back to his side.

“So… Ma, Pa, what brings your sudden visit?” (Y/N) questioned, holding her hands together in a service-like gesture.

“We had a call from the hospital saying you were in the ER getting surgery, so your mother and I hopped in the car and drove across the country.” Frank explained.

“Oh… that’s nice…” (Y/N) smiled, unsure what to say. “Um… thank you for checking up on me, Papa.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, roughing up her hair once more. “I’m sorry I wasn’t answering your calls, we drove through a lot of dead spots.”

Well, that at least explains why she couldn’t reach her father while she was in the hospital. She felt pretty lonely not hearing there voices during her time of need, but at least Andrew was there looking out for her.

Pathetic really, having to rely on a man she barely knows, let alone a killer.

“You look fine.” Rose spoke up. “Are you sure you weren’t just overreacting?” she questioned, her tone accusing as she look in (Y/N)’s appearance.

“Thanks for your concern, Ma.” (Y/N) forced a smile, unsurprised of her mother’s words while Andrew had to fight to keep his mouth closed.

“So what happened?” Rose questioned, taking a seat at the dining table.

“Well, I took a walk after one of my shifts, and I got attacked by some man.” (Y/N) explained, by now she was well-rehearsed in saying the same lie over and over. “And they kept stabbing me, but I was able to fight them off and run away. I drove myself to the hospital after the attack.”

“Whose boyfriend did you sleep with?” Rose questioned with a blank face.

“Rose!” Frank snapped, sending a glare at Rose.

“What?” she questioned. “Well, obviously she must’ve did something to get targeted. Things like that don’t happen just because.”

“I didn’t do anything…” (Y/N) spoke, a bit annoyed.

How dare she even accuse her daughter of sleeping around? Does she really think she got attacked by a vengeful girlfriend? Does she really think (Y/N) would stoop down that low? To sleep with a taken man?

(Y/N) doesn’t accept leftovers—so to hear her mother accuse her of being the catalyst of someone’s adultery really upset her. She had to bite back her tongue to the point she tasted some blood.

I mean, yeah, she got attacked by a jealous and vengeful sister if that counts? But those are two completely different things! (Y/N) didn’t mean to steal Andrew away from Ashley, nor did she mean to kill her! And she didn’t even sleep with Andrew to begin with!

Andrew looked shocked, doing his best to keep his face neutral and not stare at Rose with disgust. I mean, who the hell tries to justify their daughter’s attempted murderer?

Andrew wasn’t sure if he should continue eating, watch the interaction, or pretend like he’s hearing nothing.

“Well, what were you wearing? Did you provoke him?” Rose questioned, tapping her fingers impatiently.

(Y/N) walked to the kitchen, holding up her middle finger her mother’s way as she grabbed two bowls from her cupboard, putting pasta in them.

“I just wore my nurse uniform.” She explained. “I stopped by my apartment, dropped off my phone to charge and left purse home. Then I went on a short walk around the park.”

“Perhaps it was a hate crime if you weren’t screwing someone’s boyfriend.” Rose hummed, accepting the bowl of goulash her daughter gave her. “You know how rowdy people are getting nowadays. Absolutely disgraceful some of them are. I mean, we nurses save their lives and they hate us for not being able to save anyone. What am I? God?”

Fuck, I hope not. (Y/N) and Andrew thought at the same time.

“Well, sometimes people just have bad medical experience. Things happen.” (Y/N) spoke. “For all I know, he could’ve been experiencing a mental breakdown or perhaps an episode.”

“You should stop involving yourself with men in general. Remember that last one?” Rose questioned. “Or, are you finally admitting that he was innocent and you’re a liar? Do you know how much we went through even after you left? All that money lost and—”

“Rose. That’s enough.” Frank spoke sternly, pointing his fork at Rose as (Y/N) placed his bowl down in front of him. “We talked about this on the way here. You need to be nicer to (Y/N). She doesn’t need your bitching after what just happened to her. We should be grateful she’s even alive.”

Rose looked at her husband agitated, her expression saying she was anything but grateful, but she decided to keep her mouth shut for now.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I guess the roadtrip has been a bit tiring for Rose. She’s a bit cranky, menopause and all.” Frank chuckled, doing his best to make light of the situation.

Rose shot him a nasty glare for that comment, one Frank ignored as he continued speaking.

“So, Andrew, was it? How did you and (Y/N) meet?” Frank questioned, taking a bite of his food. “You didn’t meet her along the road and needed to stalk her home for her number or something, right?”

“Papa…” (Y/N) groaned, not appreciating the hostile vibes he was shooting Andrew’s way.

“Right… um… How I met your daughter.” Andrew chuckled nervously, his eyes trailing over to (Y/N) in a ‘get me the fuck out of this conversation’ stare.

Oh God, the question (Y/N) was dreading. She can’t tell her parents that Andrew is her former patient! That’s so unprofessional of her to take him in and house him! Especially after she lied about them dating too! Not only that, but her mother would never let her live it down. Rose would judge her for the rest of her life!

“I approached him.” (Y/N) spoke up. “At the library when I transferred colleges. I thought he was cute, so I asked for his number.”

“Did you ask if he was single at the time?” Rose questioned, earning an annoyed stare from Frank and Andrew too.

Does this lady ever shut up? Andrew thought to himself.

“Yeah. She was studying… college things. There were some books on her table, and she was reading one about nursing.” Andrew spoke, forcing himself to make eye contact with Frank to try and be sincere despite the utter bullshit and lies he was spewing out his mouth.

“What did you think of first about my daughter?” Frank questioned.

What the hell was Andrew supposed to say to that? That’s a death trap for any man. He might as well be a fly sitting on a Venus flytrap, any wrong move (answer) and he’s dead!

His first thoughts of her while sitting on that hospital bed? ‘Fuck, a girl. Hopefully Ashley won’t bitch too much.’ Followed by ‘She’s pretty. Prettier than the girl in the apartment I murdered.’

But he can’t just tell Frank that.

“I was attracted to your daughter’s eyes.” Andrew spoke, mentally slapping himself in the head.

Stupid! Every guy says that corny shit!

“Really now?” Frank questioned, looking at Andrew’s suspiciously.

Just accept it, Papa. (Y/N) thought to herself, practically sweating bullets on her side of the table. It’s better than saying he liked my chest! Just roll with it!

“Good. Good answer…” Frank spoke, slowly nodding his head as if Andrew passed a test. “That’s a real good answer, boy. I mean, your looks will change all the time as you grow old, but your eyes stay the same for the most part. Unless you carve them out or something. Carve them out like pumpkin guts.” He spoke morbidly, a chuckle spreading throughout his lips. “But good answer.”

“Don’t talk about eyeballs like it’s pumpkin seeds, Pa.” (Y/N) groaned.

Stop trying to scare Andrew away from me. (Y/N) mentally pleaded, begging for who knows why. I’m craving pumpkin pie now though…

“Aha… yeah. Pumpkin guts.” Andrew laughed awkwardly, unsure if Frank was even speaking of a joke right now.

“You know, speaking of good. This is some good food! Gourmet stuff right here! You should’ve been America’s master chef instead.” Frank complimented as he looked over at his daughter, pointing his fork to the bowl.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) forced a smile, not wanting to accept the compliment. “But it could be better…”

“You’re right.” Rose nodded, taking a bite of her food and chewing it. “It’s too bland for my taste.”

It wasn’t made for you. (Y/N) quickly retorted, looking at Rose blankly as she imagined lasers shooting out of her eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I make this…” (Y/N) spoke, her plastered smile wavering.

The heavy tension between these two ladies is enough to break a knife cutting through, Andrew has decided.

“I think it’s just perfect.” Andrew spoke up, avoiding Rose’s glare.

That’s two against one; (Y/N) food wins against Rose’s tastebuds.

“So, Andrew. How long have you known (Y/N) for?” Frank intervened, sending a wary glance Rose’s way.

Andrew looked at (Y/N) nervously, unsure what to say to that.

“A year now.” (Y/N) spoke up. “I met him not long after I moved here.”

“Really? And we’re just now knowing about him?” Frank questioned, surprised.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” (Y/N) shrugged, finishing her food. “Besides… I wanted to get to know him better before introducing you to him.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring this one into court for stalking you.” Rose spoke, crossing her arms as she glanced at (Y/N).

“Mama…” (Y/N) hissed through her teeth, finally breaking down as she sent Rose a hateful glare back. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Then don’t.” Rose shrugged. “I want to. Andes or Drew or something like that. Did you know—“

(Y/N) stood up from her seat, tightly holding her fork in one hand as if it was a weapon. “I said no, Ma.”

Rose looked up and down at (Y/N), unamused with (Y/N)’s act.

“Rose, stop.” Frank spoke, reaching to his side and holding his wife’s forearm. “Let’s not trigger her.”

“When you’re done eating, bring your dishes to me. I’ll clean them.” (Y/N) stated, before walking out of the dining table to the kitchen in almost a robotic fashion.

Andrew was pretty curious of what (Y/N) didn't want him to know about, but he didn't want to ask Rose and risk talking to her more, and Frank might just kill him for even wondering.

There was a pause in the dining room, nobody wanting to eat despite how good the food was, their appetites ruined by the tension. Andrew still ate every bite though, forcing it down despite feeling ill from Rose’s attitude.

Andrew grabbed his crutches resting on the wall, standing up and taking his bowl and fork with him. Rose’s eyes sparkled, seeming to make a connection.

“That’s why she’s with you!” Rose gasped. “She can’t settle for anyone else but a cripple!”

“Rose!” Frank hissed, his grip tightening on Rose’s forearm.

“Oh please, you know I’m right.” Rose huffed, before looking back at Andrew. “You had to settle for her.”

“What’s your deal?” Andrew questioned, his voice low so (Y/N) couldn’t hear their conversation. “Why are you such a bitch?”

Rose’s eyes sharpened, but her lack of reaction could only assume she’s heard that insult before. “You don’t know how much money we lost because of that attention-whore. She should’ve died that night…” Rose muttered lowly, her voice unwavering as she meant every word she said.

Frank shook his head, but his expression said he was anything but happy. “Stop it. You’re going too far.” Frank hissed.

Rose sent him a smug smirk, seemingly proud of what she just said.

“Hag…” Andrew spat her way, his hands balled up into fists as he tried not to do anything too drastic to turn this family reunion into a murder.

Andrew hopped out of the kitchen, ignoring the small whispers Frank and Rose spoke as they bickered with one another.

(Y/N) stood at the sink with the faucet running, her hands scrubbing her clean bowl with a lost gaze. Who knows how long she’s been scrubbing that singular dish.

“(Y/N)…” Andrew whispered, his hand reaching out and touching her shoulder.

“Huh?” (Y/N) jolted, almost dropping the bowl as she turned her head to him. “Andrew? Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to give you this like you told me to.” Andrew spoke, placing his dishes in the sink.

His hands snaked around her waist, a shiver wracking through (Y/N)’s body, reacting to the intimate touch.

“What are you doing?” she questioned lowly, a nervous feeling appearing in her chest.

“I’m just playing the part.” He muttered. “We’re dating now, yeah?” he smiled, almost cocky to throw her words back at her.

“Uh… yeah…” she muttered, doing her best to relax her body, her back pressed against his chest as her body leaned into him without her consent.

God, this is so wrong for me to be doing with my patient. Former patient? Roommate? Fuck, who knows at this point! (Y/N) thought, nervous as she avoided his eyes.

Andrew leaned against her, whether it was to get closer or to support himself without his crutches, who knows. He rested his head on her shoulder, watching her shaky hands tend to the dirty dishes.

“You know, I’m really not liking your mother.” Andrew admitted, letting out a sigh.

His breath hit her ear, making her shiver at the reminder that he’s so close to her.

“Well… it’s not like I chose her.” (Y/N) sighed.

“Heh, wouldn’t that be great?” Andrew chuckled. “Choosing your own parents. That would be awesome…”

“Sorry for her behavior…” (Y/N) muttered. “She’s just… not really empathetic. Or sympathetic. Really, she doesn’t do well in the emotions department in general.”

“And I thought my parents were bad…” Andrew commented, shaking his head as he smiled.

The movement just made her more aware of how close he was to her, pressing his body against her. She didn’t know if she wanted to hit him with a dish and run, or freeze and accept the once-in-a-lifetime affection she’ll probably ever have.

He smelt just like her shampoo, making her understand that this might just be a norm. That he might actually live with her longer than she expected. They’ll share the same roof, food, shower, and who knows what else.

A wave of confidence washed over him, giving him the boldness of a drunk frat holding a pool cue. His hands moved from her waist to her sweater, fiddling with the muted pink cotton, far too close to her bare skin for her comfort as her bandages peeked out from underneath.

“Watch your hands.” (Y/N) gritted under her teeth, shooting Andrew a warning glare.

“Yes, ma’am…” he chuckled, his hands retreating, deciding to rest them on her hips.

He watched over her shoulder as she hurriedly finished the rest of the dishes, before stepping away from Andrew, no longer supporting his weight. Luckily, he had his crutches to catch him when she abandoned his side, creating a cushion of space between the two.

Frank and Rose both entered the kitchen, Frank’s bowl licked clean and Rose’s bowl half-eaten. (Y/N) took care of the dishes, her hands scrubbing them before she spoke up.

“So how long are you guys going to be staying in town?” (Y/N) questioned, finishing a dish.

“We only planned to make sure you’re okay.” Frank spoke. “Are you doin' anythin' tomorrow?”

Great, the question every child dreads when their parents are in town. It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang with her father, but she doesn’t want to hang with her mother.

“I’ll be busy.” (Y/N) hummed. “Me and Andrew wanna go shopping together. We’ll probably go get lunch too.”

“A lunch date, I see.” Frank nodded, his eyes trailing to Rose. “Well then, we’ll head out tomorrow mornin' and be out of your hair.”

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” (Y/N) questioned, turning off the tap as she finished the dishes, drying her hands with a towel.

“Hotels in the city are so expensive.” Rose grimaced, crossing her arms. “We figured we’d just stay the night here.”

“I’ll set up the sleeper sofa for you.” (Y/N) smiled.

If my parents get the couch, then that means Andrew will have no place to sleep tonight. (Y/N) thought.

(Y/N) looked at Andrew from across the room, not all that surprised to see him staring back. Their eyes came to the silent conclusion and agreement.

They were sleeping together tonight.

“I’ll go get some blankets and pillows for you both.” (Y/N) spoke.

She walked past her parents and Andrew, placing her hand on his shoulder in a silent command for him to follow her. He did so without question.

He hopped down the hallway, following her to her bedroom.

(Y/N) opened the door for him, before softly closing the door behind her.

“Okay… so, my parents are taking the sleeper, which is originally where I planned on having you sleep.” (Y/N) explained. “So… this means we’re going to be sharing a bed tonight.”

“Yeah, I figured that much…” Andrew sighed, resting his crutches against the wall as he sat down on the bed, crossing his arms.

“That… that’s it?” she questioned, a bit perplexed. “No protests or complaints?”

“No, why?” he questioned, looking up at her. “You nervous?”

“No, I’m not.” She scoffed, a smile appearing on her lips, almost laughing at the idea of herself being nervous to sleep with him for one night.

Because in truth, she was.

“I’ll go get them their blankets. You can stay here.” (Y/N) spoke. “I don’t know about you, but I’m a bit tired. I’d rather not sit in the living room and talk with them… would you?”

“No.” Andrew spoke all too quickly.

Her mother was a bitch, plain and simple. And her father was a bit intimidating, despite his attempts to get to know Andrew, Andrew couldn’t help but feel her father is waiting for just one word he doesn’t like slip out of his mouth before all hell could break loose.

“Good…” (Y/N) chuckled, smiling. “So, I’ll give them their stuff… then you and me camp out in here and watch some movies together?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Andrew nodded, kicking off his shoes and leaning back on her bed, his arms resting on her pillows lazily.

"Hey, elevate your legs." (Y/N) ordered, throwing two pillows his way.

Andrew groaned in a small protest, but listened as he placed the pillows underneath his calves.

(Y/N) left the room, walking into her supply closet and grabbing some blankets and pillows; she always kept extras so she can rotate her bedding while doing laundry.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend more time with you guys, and I’m sorry for worrying you two to where you had to come out here…” (Y/N) apologized, handing her parents their bedding for the night.

“Hey, it’s no trouble.” Frank smiled. “Really, we wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

“Thank you.” (Y/N) nodded, going to the couch and taking off the cushions, grabbing a handle that tugged the mattress out from underneath. “I appreciate your concern. I’m feeling just dandy; it doesn’t even hurt much.”

Despite her words, there was indeed a hiss of pain that shot through her stomach when she bent over to grab the mattress, but she just ignored it.

(Y/N) made the bed for her parents, tucking in the blankets and fluffing the pillows.

“I’m sorry, I’m still pretty tired. I just got out of the hospital this morning so I think I’ll be going to bed early tonight. Is there anything I can get you guys beforehand?” (Y/N) questioned.

“We’re fine.” Rose sighed. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow mornin', so don’t be surprised if you see us gone when you wake up.”

“Are you going to be fine with that man?” Frank questioned.

“That man is my boyfriend, Papa.” (Y/N) chuckled, albeit faked. “I’ll be just fine.”

“If you say so.” Frank sighed. “But just holler if he causes any trouble to you.”

“Got it.” (Y/N) nodded. “I’m going to go hit the hay. Goodnight, Papa. Goodnight, Mama.”

(Y/N) exited the living room, quickly rushing to her kitchen and retrieving some chips, packaged popcorn, and Hawaiian sweet bread she found lying around in her pantry. She grabbed a few water bottles before rushing to her bedroom so her parents couldn’t see the snacks.

(Y/N) quickly shut the door behind her, locking eyes with Andrew as he stayed in the same spot she left him in.

“Here. I couldn’t grab much since they’re camping out in the living room.” (Y/N) spoke, placing the food on the bed. “Just try not to get any crumbs on the bed.”

Andrew nodded, his eyes trailing around the room, making a few notes of the minimal decorations and how bare it really looked. He knows now that she moved here about a year ago, but damn does she not have any personality?

“I’m going to go change into some pajamas…” (Y/N) spoke up. “I’ll find something for you too.”

“Thanks.” Andrew smiled.

“Here. You can choose a movie while I search. I’m a fan of all genres.” (Y/N) spoke, grabbing her TV remote from her bedside and hanging it to Andrew.

She walked to a door that led to her closet, opening it and moving stuff around, before finding herself a simple long-sleeved nightgown to wear. She tossed that onto her shoulder, then looked around for something Andrew could wear.

Luckily, she was a fan of baggy clothes, whether it was because she was feeling like wearing something oversized and comfortable, or she would wear it on cleaning days. She grabbed a shirt and sweatpants for Andrew, handing it over to him before retreating to her bathroom to change.

She changed into her nightgown, deciding to save Andrew some extra time to change. She took her day clothes and threw it in her laundry basket, hiding the dirty and tacky state merchandise clothes she wore earlier while burying Ashley. She also removed the bloody bandages off her arm, revealing the fresh cuts she made this morning using the broken shards from the vase earlier.

The cuts burned at the exposure to oxygen, a throbbing sensation going up her arm. She grabbed rubbing alcohol from under her sink and some toilet paper, pouring the disinfectant onto the cloth and dabbing it on her cuts to prevent any infections. She wrapped her arm with new bandages, calling it a day as she shoved the supplies back under her sink cabinet.

She brushed her hair in her mirror, washing her face with water and drying it off, before deciding she’s given Andrew enough time to change into his sleepwear. She unlocked her bathroom door, opening it and walking out, closing the door behind her.

Andrew was back to laying in her bed, but at least he was dressed appropriately for sleep. The remote was in his hand as he scrolled through the movies, uninterested in it all.

“Do you have a favorite genre?” (Y/N) inquired, crawling into bed.

She kept her distance from him, cresting a invisible barrier between the two. He was still a man after all, two broken ankles or not.

“Uh… not really…” Andrew shrugged.

It’s not like he could remember much anyways, just what happened at his old apartment complex. He was just glued to the couch watching the news all the time, waiting for an update on when the damn quarantine will be done so he can get some food.

“Well, are you in a laughing mood? Crying mood? Family-friendly mood?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yeah, I’m not one to get emotional over movies…” Andrew sighed. “Why? Is that something you do?”

“Hey, dogs and kids dying in movies are really sad.” (Y/N) huffed playfully, taking the remote from his hand.

(Y/N) scrolled through the movies, both sharing bored and disinterested look on their face as they scrolled through the channels together. She threw a bag of chips his way, watching from the corner of her eye as she caught it.

He opened the bag, shoving some in his mouth before holding a chip in his hand, bringing it to (Y/N)’s mouth. She accepted the chip, opening her mouth as he placed it on her tongue, watching as she closed her mouth and chewed.

Andrew glanced back at the TV, watching as (Y/N) scrolled through the movies, before his eye caught something.

“Wait, stop.” Andrew spoke, causing her to stop her aimless scrolling and look over at him. “Scroll back up.”

She listened, slowly scrolling up, before he made her stop on one movie.

“Seriously?” (Y/N) groaned, looking at Andrew with a half-hearted glare.

“Yeah.” He smirked, looking at her with a smug expression. “Why? You scared?”

“Ugh, please.” She scoffed, selecting the movie, pressing play. “Like I’d be scared of this. It’s just some ghosts haunting a house.”

“Hey, shush! Don’t spoil it!” Andrew hushed, shoving some more chips into her mouth.

She playfully rolled her eyes, yet smiled as she relaxed back into her pillows.

Andrew chose The Conjuring to watch, which means (Y/N) won’t be walking down any basement stairs or looking in any mirrors tonight (or for the next few days, possibly weeks). If the bed starts rattling from a ghost or demon, may any God have mercy on that poor undead fellow because she won’t.

Maybe Andrew was a fan of horror movies before losing his memory? Perhaps he remembers liking horror movies? Or perhaps it was just the only semi-interesting thing to watch.

It wasn’t long before the two actually got intrigued with the movie, focusing their attention on the dark screen—(Y/N) had even turned off the lights for this.

It’s unknown who moved closer (most likely Andrew), but by the time she registered their close proximity, he had placed his arm behind her shoulders, pulling her closer to him to where she rested in his side.

She opened her mouth to speak, before inevitably staying quiet. Maybe it was because she was focusing on the movie, or maybe it was because she kind of liked the affection. Whatever it was, she decided it wasn’t worth mentioning. Maybe if they both just stayed quiet about it, it wouldn’t ever be brought up or thought about again.

The warmth of his body was a foreign sensation she’s never felt. Her chest almost hurt at this newfound intimacy, and she wondered if she was expecting heart palpitations for a second. She’s never held or cuddled someone, and there was absolutely no desire to after what’s happened in the past, but maybe she’ll enjoy it for once and hopefully it won’t backfire in her face like everything else has in life.

Andrew lazily fed himself chips with one hand, his arm wrapped around (Y/N)’s shoulders as he subconsciously rubbed her shoulder relaxingly with his free hand. The position felt almost natural to him, something that didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable or forced.

(Y/N) stared at the TV in a daze, a wave of tiredness hitting her. Her whole body felt warm and in a trance as she leaned more into Andrew’s side, before finally resting her head onto his chest.

Andrew glanced down at her, a soft smile spreading on his lips as his eyes drooped in fondness and adoration, one he wouldn’t let her see so soon of knowing her. His hand that was originally rubbing her shoulder instead moved and started playing with her hair, gently scratching her scalp and weaving his fingers through her hair.

(Y/N) let the last bit of her restraint go, closing her eyes as her ears ignored the TV’s spooky music playing. She let out a small appreciative sigh as Andrew pulled the blankets higher up to cover her better. It felt so damn good being taken care of for once, that if she wasn’t so tired, she’d be bawling her eyes out right now.

But he was a murderer; and so was she. Why are they capable of such gentleness and hospitality despite committing such horrendous things?

Maybe it’s because murderers are humans too. They were just like us before they were labeled murderers. If there’s a way (Y/N) can redeem herself of such a negative title, she’d take it. Maybe even Andrew could redeem too.

But if bad things happen to good people, then does good things happen to bad people? It makes her wonder how long this good thing will last, after all, nothing good ever happens to (Y/N), or at least it doesn’t stay long.

Ah, who gives a damn… (Y/N) thought, her arms wrapping around Andrew’s waist as she relaxed in his arms, enjoying the feeling of his hands running through her hair.

Hopefully, now she’s done a bad thing and is arguably a bad person depending on who you ask, maybe she’ll finally start getting good things.

She knows one thing now. If Andrew could make her feel this damn good despite not even being here for 24 hours, then she can’t let him leave her. She’ll keep this affection and warmth all to herself.

It’s time for (Y/N) to take what she wants now.

Chapter 6 is done! I actually have chapter 7 all pieced out and what I want to do for that chapter, so the next chapter we're having tons more drama, a new and important character introduction (just a little spoiler for you, they're a yandere). Patience is always appreciated.

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Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for requests!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, current chapter, Chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

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