#i am so tired that i'm on the verge of hallucinating

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Four)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: When you meet Patrick's colleagues in Barcadia, you realize that you're getting more and more entangled in his lifestyle, which you didn't like at all. Escaping your golden cage with someone from your past is the only thing you can think about. The question is, will Bateman allow you to do that?

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, breast fucking, cum eating, swearing, implied murders, blood and violence, fainting, spanking, degradation, cheating, abusive and toxic behavior, unhealthy relationships, NSFW art, Patrick Bateman is a warning himself.

WORDS: 5.8k

A/N: Another chapter for my dear readers, I hope you like it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Inflamed with an unquenchable desire for more, Patrick growled and slowed his thrusts, staring down at you. "Where shall I cum then, Becca? Huh? Your... hair? You want me to mess up your hair?" He teased, tilting his head up slightly. "I'm not putting on a fucking condom. I can't feel anything with one. "

His blatant statement about not using condoms made you nervous, but you managed to hide it. "Are you not going to use condoms...at all?" You asked with a hint of provocation. "I think...I think you told me you didn't want to have kids."

Did he really tell me that or am I hallucinating? 'Why can't I remember anything that happened this morning, and why am I so dizzy and my body feels like dough? Was that pill he gave me a painkiller or...'

Patrick huffed. "Well-no, I never told you... but there's no risk if I don't use a condom for this..." Patrick said through his teeth, averting his eyes as he lied to you. He would do everything in his power to make you believe that what happened this morning was all in your head.

Perplexed, you felt a sudden wave of nausea rise from your stomach, but Patrick continued, pressing your tits tighter against his throbbing cock. You needed him to climax or you might vomit right here and now. "Cum in my mouth...please...I beg you!" You urged him on, covering his hands with yours and opening your mouth wide so that his swollen tip now slid in and out with precious friction.

(Check out NSFW art on AO3!)

Bateman pressed your breasts together against his cock, moaning as he thrust faster. The man was a little surprised by what you wanted, but obliged. Huffing, he grinned and pulled on your hair, feeling himself on the verge of falling over the edge. Then Patrick pushed his tip into your mouth before he cummed hard, his hot seed filling your mouth and going down your throat. A little rough, Bateman yanked your head up so you wouldn't choke. With his eyes closed, he panted heavily and wiped his forehead with his arm.

Bateman's sperm did not taste as sweet as you expected. Because of your naivety and inexperience with sex, you really believed your friends' gossip about how delicious it felt when the man came right in your mouth because it tasted like fucking honey. But in reality, his seed was salty and very dense, making it hard to swallow, but spitting it out was not an option. Panting, you swallowed the last drop of the warm liquid and looked up at Patrick, who was still breathing heavily and enjoying the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

'I can't believe I made him cum...or did he do it himself?' Just the thought of him having a strong orgasm because of you made you feel strangely proud, but you shook off such thoughts before it was too late. "Can I use the bathroom, please?" You asked quietly, lying motionless under him. "I'm afraid we're going to be late."

Patrick blinked a few times before he opened his eyes. He sighed with satisfaction and moved away from you, pulling up his boxers. Relieved, Bateman didn't seem at all tired from the orgasm. He felt calmer and less impulsive now, returning to his friendly facade. The man chuckled. "You don't need to ask permission. This is your home too, you know." He said ominously before moving to the kitchen and quickly grabbing an Evian water from the fridge. He tossed it to you. "Drink this. Don't drink the tap water." Patrick stated, assuming you wanted to go to the bathroom to wash your mouth out. Then he went back to his bedroom and put his suit back on, running his hand over it to smooth out any wrinkles.

After almost 20 minutes, you finally got outside where the black limousine was waiting for you. Since it was late fall, the wind was quite cold, so you decided to put on one of your coats, and although it was not fur or super expensive, it was one of your favorites. Inside the limousine, Bateman took out his Walkman and put the earphones on his head before turning to look out the window as they pulled away. You didn't even try to get his attention. On the contrary, you even enjoyed a few moments of peace, as a new circle of hell awaited you in Barcadia. 'I brushed my teeth twice and I can still feel his taste on my tongue. God, how am I going to forget this?' Your train of thought was interrupted by a sudden tight grip on your knee. As you looked down at his large palm, then in his hazel eyes, you noticed something unusual in the way he was smiling at you, as if enjoying his triumph of getting what he wanted. Slowly, but determinedly, you removed his hand from your knee and adjusted the hem of your dress to give him no room to play. Patrick, in his Prada coat, took your hand firmly, not allowing you to pull away this time, opened the car door to get you out, and led you into the restaurant, where you were immediately seated at a table in a secluded part of the restaurant. 

(Patrick and my version of Becca by amazing @anyarlly!)

"Hello Price, Daisy-" the man greeted, then his eyes went wide. "...McDermott...and Van Patten." Bateman furrowed his brows, then looked at Price, who sat down and pulled out a chair for you. "You didn't tell me McDufus and his friend were coming tonight?" He whispered.

Price shrugged and pulled the lit cigar from between his teeth. "I invited them. They didn't have much to do tonight." He said casually before looking at you. He smiled a wolfish grin. "This must be your... oh, your FIANCE, Bateman." Price chuckled. "I can... tell it wasn't your choice. Definitely a step down from you-know-who." Timothy scoffed, chuckled at Patrick and gave him a high five. 

Soon the waitress came over and set menus for all of them. Even though you didn't hear the whole conversation, the echo of Tim's last words stuck in your head like they were imprinted on your brain. 'Just don't think about it, don't think about it.' Sighing sadly, you picked up the menu so quickly that it almost flew out of your hands, but you managed to hold it still, using it as a shield from prying eyes. You didn't listen to what they were saying, trying to concentrate on the huge list of dishes, but you weren't really hungry—you were still suffering from nausea. Patrick's sneaky touch on your leg under the table was just as sudden as it had been in the limo, but this time you couldn't just push his hand away. 'Damn it!'

Patrick chuckled, not bothering to defend you at all. Smirking, he opened the menu with one hand and looked at the list of meals. His other hand went down and rested on your leg and stayed there. He hummed and drummed on the menu with his fingers. "I think I'll have... peanut butter soup. The Times called it a... playful little dish." He smiled and put the menu down. "Is Paul Owen still handling the Fisher account?"

Craig chewed on a toothpick in his teeth, glanced up at you for a moment before looking back at the menu. He put it down and chuckled. "God, it's always the Fisher account with you, Bateman." He shook his head. "And of course the Jew still has it. Hell, I think he had to suck off some higher-ups to get it." He rolled his eyes. "I heard it's worth 800 million already."

"You're so full of shit, McDermott." Price said, shaking his cigar between his fingers. "It's only worth 400." He huffed and leaned back in his seat, spreading his legs. His eyes were on you for a moment before he looked at Daisy. "Take whatever you want, doll. Just make sure it's not too fattening." He grinned before he looked back at you. "So... where did you go to school? ACLU? Camden?" He took a drag from the cigar and blew a puff of smoke in your direction.

Timothy's question didn't really affect your mood, as you were already too fed up, but the way his girlfriend was staring at you was nothing but annoying. 'I wish I could throw that glass of water right in her smug face!'

Despite the evil thoughts in your head, you managed to keep up your fake facade of amity and politeness because you didn't want to have another scene with Bateman. "I'm a student at New York Medical College," you declared openly and without shame. "And I'm about to finish my internship as a scrub nurse." With that, you smiled at Price, realizing that your answer was not what he was expecting. Probably. As you were about to add another comment, Bateman's palm slid up your hip, almost touching you between your legs, but you stopped him just an inch away. Turning to look at him, you whispered barely audibly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"A nurse? Oh my God, that's so boring," Daisy complained, rolling her eyes. "Do you have a lighter, darling?" The blonde woman smiled at Tim and pulled out a cigarette, then wrapped her plump lips around it in a suggestive gesture. After Tim lit hers and his, Daisy noticed her nose wrinkle at the pungent scent of snuff, which only encouraged the blonde to blow more and more smoke. "I can't believe he's really going to marry that hick." Daisy whispered in Tim's ear before planting a small kiss on his neck.

Frowning, Price leaned back in his seat. "Huh... Well, I went to Stanford." He clicked his tongue. "I have a co-op here and a place in the Hamptons. And a Porsche." He bragged, running a hand through his slicked back hair. His attention was drawn back to his girlfriend, who chuckled softly. He pulled a book of matches from his pocket and struck a match, lighting her cigarette before relighting his cigar. He chuckled and tilted his head back from the kiss. "Well, it's an arranged marriage, darling. The poor bastard has no choice."

Disgusted, Daisy scoffed and took a long drag on her cigarette. "I can't believe such marriages still exist in the 20th century." The blonde continued to look at you and Patrick, and just as she was about to take another swipe, the waiter came to their table, ready to take their orders. "I think I'll have... a plate of Greek salad and fresh orange juice."

Patrick's attention was on McDermott. "Oh, Jesus McDermott—what does his being Jewish have to do with anything?" The man muttered, furrowing his brow. He moved his hand further up your thigh, his hand slipping under your dress. He touched the hem of your panties at your hips, keeping his eyes on McDermott. "A dreidel, not a menorah—you spin a dreidel." He rolled his eyes and looked back at you. He smiled, feigning ignorance. "I'm not doing anything, sweetheart."

Your fists clenched and unclenched under the table because the whole situation was so damn embarrassing and irritating. "Don't call me 'sweetheart,'" you hissed gritted clenched teeth before finally pulling Bateman's palm away from your leg. The waiter waited patiently for your order, but unfortunately you were about to disappoint him as you were not hungry at all. "Just... just a cup of coffee, please." You mumbled, dropping your eyes to the table and examining the beautiful napkin on it.

Patrick frowned at you for the tenth time during dinner, frustrated by your reluctance. The man sighed and looked back at the menu. "I'll have the peanut butter soup and an Evian." Then he pointed at you. "Along with the coffee, she'll have the pine nut salad with goat cheese." He said with a smile. Patrick didn't care if you ate it or not—he thought you could stand to lose a few pounds anyway, but it looked bad to go to a restaurant like this and not order any food.

"Well, that's what rich families do." Price shrugged and scanned the menu again. "I'll have the... tuna tartare with balsamic dressing. And a glass of red wine." He looked at Bateman with a smug smile. "No alcohol today, Bateman? Don't be such a lightweight." He chuckled. Patrick didn't react.

"I'll have the red snapper pizza with a glass of champagne." McDermott smiled and then looked at Patrick. "I'm surprised you didn't order the fucking potato pancakes, Bateman." He chuckled. 

David scratched his head, breaking his silence for the evening to place his order. "I'll have the... oh God…I think I'll have the... ceviche sandwich with pea dressing. And a cappuccino." He looked up at the waiter and adjusted his horn rimmed glasses. 

The waiter wrote down the orders and left. Soon the table was full of different dishes, and they all looked absolutely delicious, but it didn't help with the nausea at all. The men were still talking business when you noticed a tiny drop of blood on the napkin you held up to your nose, thinking you were about to sneeze. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." With that, you quickly got up from your seat and rushed to the nearest waiter to ask where you could find a bathroom.

Daisy didn't miss the sight of you walking away looking unhealthy, but the blonde just giggled. "She probably can't stand high cuisine, can she?" She chirped and looked at Tim for approval, hoping he would find her comment funny. "Patrick, do you remember my friend Claire? She has very rich parents, maybe you should meet her sometime?"

Patrick stared at his plate without touching it. The way his meal was organized was... just beautiful, he thought. He couldn't bring himself to ruin it, no matter how hungry he was. He looked up and saw you making your way to the bathroom. "Excuse me." He stood up, his eyes fixed on you. He would follow a few feet away so as not to be noticed. He slipped into the women's restroom, staying close to the wall.

Timothy watched Patrick leave, shaking his head. He started to eat, looking silently at Daisy until he swallowed. "I guess he's not interested. Don't blame him. Claire's a total bitch." He sneered.

As soon as you scooted into the ladies' room, you rushed to the sink and opened the cold water, noticing that your nosebleed was increasing. 'Damn, I haven't had a nosebleed in centuries. Maybe the pill Patrick gave me caused all this?' In panic, you hovered over the sink, almost choking, feeling the sharp headache and nausea, along with the metallic taste of blood running down your throat. You thanked God that the bathroom was empty and you wouldn't scare anyone with such a scene, but at the same time you suddenly thought that if you died here and now, no one would notice. With these cloudy thoughts, you slipped to the floor and lost consciousness.

Patrick came in just as you fainted. Annoyed, he looked down at your body with a puzzled expression on his face. Did he accidentally cause an overdose? Was the coffee poisoned? Did you have a heart attack? Were you murdered? Despite all these possibilities, he knew he had to act quickly if he didn't want you to possibly die. He took his monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and fixed your head in one place, pinching your nose to stop the flow of blood. He held your mouth open with his hand so you could breathe. Then, with ease, Bateman picked you up in his arms and slipped out the back of the restaurant. He didn't really care about abandoning his friends. They owed him a lot of paid meals anyway. 

Soon you were in his apartment again, lying on the couch with your head against the armrest.

Why is it so cold in here? Have I died? You felt nothing but a cold darkness surrounding you, as if you were falling into the black void but never reaching its bottom. Maybe you really died?  Everything was screaming about it when suddenly in your foggy head there was a loud children's noise, a group of boys chasing you, throwing stones at you and calling you an ugly face until they trapped you in the next alley.

"Look at her, boys, she's going to drown in her own tears!" One of the children laughed and pointed at you with a large wooden stick.

"Please... don't do this... I just want to go home... I didn't do anything wrong!" You begged, cowering in the dirty corner of the nearby building.

The group of bullies just giggled at your weakness when one of them suddenly screamed in pain. All eyes were on the tall, brown-haired boy, his eyebrows furrowed and his palms clenched into fists as he punched one of the boys right in his disgusting face. "Get away from her or I'll kick your asses! All of you!" Patrick barked, pulling up the sleeves of his fancy shirt.

Only now did you realize that you were dreaming, because you could see Patrick's childish face so clearly, as if you were back in time. To the moment when he had been the one to protect you from getting hurt. You wanted to stay in this dream forever, you wanted to touch Patty's soft hair and hug him tightly, but soon the image from your past began to fade and your eyes were wide open as you looked at the perfectly white ceiling above you. "Patty?" You whimpered and looked around, your eyes starting to water as you realized you were alone. "I'm so scared...I need you..." You covered your face and sobbed like a little baby.

Meanwhile, Patrick was in the kitchen, cutting up various fruits on a plate. He knew that you hadn't eaten anything today, which was probably the reason why you fainted. Patrick didn't really know how to cook, so he just cut up some fruit that you could easily eat. He perked up a bit when he heard a familiar nickname, but he couldn't remember the last time he had heard it. The man walked into the living room with the plate and set it down on the table. He stared at you with a blank face as you sobbed, unsure of what to do. "Uh-hey... stop it." Bateman nudged your shoulder with his hand, his eyebrows furrowed.

Bateman's stern voice helped you come to your senses, and now you felt so embarrassed, so humiliated. Visibly shaking, you hugged yourself, your hands rubbing nervously over your shoulders. "What was that medicine you gave me before dinner?" You asked quietly—a sheer testament to your exhaustion and weakness. "I felt bad from the moment we stepped outside," you added, closing your eyes. "I still feel like shit... Did you plan to kill me, Patrick? If you want to get rid of me so badly, you can just talk to your mother and this marriage won't happen." Despite your attempts to stop yourself from crying, several tears streamed down your tired face. You hated yourself for being so vulnerable and weak, so without caring about your poor statement, you tried to stand up.

'Christ,' Patrick thought, biting the inside of his cheek. The man couldn't stand that kind of crying. He really only liked crying when he physically caused it. "I didn't give you any medicine." He said through clenched teeth. "I gave you a Xanax and some Evian water. Evian water. Do you hear me? Xanax and an Evian. I didn't drug you." He ignored all of your words and pushed you back down from your standing position. Irritated, he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look up at him, anger behind his eyes. "Look, I want you to pull yourself together. Stop making a fucking scene." He said slowly. "How many times do I have to tell you the facts? This... marriage is going to happen whether we like it or not? Capiche? Comprende?" Then he whispered. "This, uh, situation is the only thing keeping you alive. If you weren't with me, Manhattan would eat you alive. Especially with the way you act. You really have a rotten attitude. Now stop fucking crying!"

'A rotten attitude, really?' Bateman's statement echoed in your head like a broken record. You brushed his hand away quickly. "Maybe it's you who's been spoiled by wealth and money?" You replied in a hysterical tone. "You gave me such a powerful sedative without telling me? You... you're a fucking monster, you..." your eyes suddenly rolled back into your head and you leaned on Patrick's shoulders for support. "I hate you... for killing the person... who was the light in the darkness for me... my whole life." And with that, you fainted again, going limp in his embrace.

Patrick scowled and clenched his hands at his sides. He thought about grabbing an ax and throwing it right in your face to shut you up. The man stood still. "Uh, are you... you know, mentally disabled?" He asked, almost exploding with anger. "I SPECIFICALLY told you it was a Xanax." Did he? He couldn't remember. "YOU took it. I didn't make you take it. God, I can't deal with this, you STUPID BITCH!" Bateman snapped before you passed out.

A phone call was so out of place, but the female voice on the answering machine immediately caught Patrick's attention. "Hey Patrick, it's Courtney," she paused for a second, choosing her words very carefully. "I heard you were at Barcadia today... Patrick... I really miss you and," another pause hung in the air, but this time it was obvious that Courtney was trying to suppress her sobs. "Luis is away this weekend, I thought... I thought you could come and see me... if you want."

Patrick was shaking with rage now. He stood up and pushed you away from him. Huffing, he stared down at you before he focused on the beeping phone. He walked over and brought it to his ear. "Yes... Courtney... I'll be there. Just, just don't cry when I get there. I've already had to deal with that today." Bateman said and then hung up. He looked back at you with a disdainful expression before he left the apartment and grabbed his briefcase. No sex could really calm him down from the anger he felt. He'd find a bum or a prostitute afterwards. Annoyed as hell, the man locked the apartment door and started walking to Courtney's brownstone, passing beggars and men who looked just like him and women who looked just like Evelyn.

The long day finally came to an end. 

The next time you opened your eyes, you were blinded by the light coming through the large window in Bateman's living room; you even had to cover your face from the brightness. Slowly, you got up from the couch, and after using the bathroom, you cautiously crept into the kitchen, where you found some sliced fruit that was starting to get musty, making you think that Bateman had probably forgotten about it. 'Wait, where is he?' Only now did you realize that you were alone, and that feeling lifted your spirits as you finally had the chance to call your ex-boyfriend Vincent. Although you didn't have a clear answer why the idea of calling him was so inspiring, since you had broken up a long time ago, but maybe... maybe Vincent would inform your family about Bateman's tantrums and you could escape this golden cage. With the grace of a cat, you slipped into Patrick's bedroom and picked up the phone to dial a familiar number of your college crush.

When another beep came from the receiver, you bit your lower lip. "Come on, pick up the phone, Vincent."

Just like in the movies, you heard a male voice right after you said those words. "Hello?"

"Vincent! Vincent, hi, it's Rebecca!" You brought the phone closer to you, holding it as if it were your lifeline. "I'm sorry to call you so early in the morning..."

"That's okay, I was getting ready for my daily shift anyway," the man paused and you could hear his thoughtful humming. "Did something happen?"

Closing your eyes for a second, you wanted to say yes, but then you pushed that thought away, not wanting to cause trouble for a person you once had a relationship with. "No, I just... thought maybe you could pick me up since today is my shift too."

"Sure," Vincent replied and you knew he was smiling. "Tell me the number you're calling from so I can call you back a little later."

After you gave the number, not really caring what Patrick might think about it, you and Vincent said goodbye to each other and hung up the phone. 'I hope that idiot doesn't come back before I leave'. The thought of Vincent accidentally walking into Patrick made your stomach churn. 'Dear God, please don't let this happen,' you prayed and went to the bathroom, still feeling dizzy but desperate to freshen up. At first you thought about taking a shower, but then you changed your mind and decided to take a warm, relaxing bath. It took you several minutes to get the bath ready and get out of your clothes. As you sat in the refreshing water, you let out a sigh of relief. Grinning like the most bratty child, you grabbed the bottle of soap sitting next to you and poured a handful of it. 'Ohhh, I wish Patty could see me now.' That was the first time you really had fun in this apartment. The steam soon filled the bathroom, making you too relaxed and you didn't even notice that you were falling asleep as you leaned against the edge of the tub and closed your eyes for just a second. 'Just a second.' You whispered to yourself before you drifted off.

Patrick entered the apartment at 8 in the morning. He was still wearing his Armani suit from last night, an overcoat, and black leather gloves. In his hand was a blood knife he had just used to stab a homeless woman to death. Blood and body parts were splattered on his gloves, coat, and even his face. He longed for a shower. Or better yet, a bath. A quick one. He had to go to the office today... and he had a lunch reservation with McDermott at Pastel's. And Price was going to take him to the Tunnel again. Patrick first washed the knife in the kitchen sink, watching the blood run down the drain. Frowning, he dried it and set it aside, his nose wrinkling as he noticed a strange odor in the air. He looked over and sighed, grabbed the fruit and threw it in the garbage. Then Bateman walked to the bathroom and took off his gloves and coat, leaving them on the floor. He then removed his Armani jacket, silk tie and cotton shirt. He admired his rock-hard body for a moment in the mirror before looking at the tub. He jumped and took a step back, his eyes wide with fear. He took a step closer and sighed. "Oh, Christ." He moved to the tub and tapped you on the hip with his bloodied shoe. "Get up!" Then he kicked you. "Do you know how pathetic you look?"

Suddenly you woke up with a squeal, startled by the sudden sharp pain in your leg. "Ouch!" You groaned before raising your eyes to see Patrick's tall figure standing next to the tub. "Patrick?" Shocked by the pain, you even forgot to cover yourself, as if Bateman hadn't already seen you naked. When you noticed the blood on your fiancé's face, you swallowed nervously and blinked several times as if to shake off the fear. "Is that blood? What happened? Are you hurt?" your questions were so fast and erratic that you even choked on your breath. "Do you need help?" You could not ask his question because you were a nurse.

Patrick touched the blood on his face and looked down at the red that stained his fingers. "Uh, no." The man said slowly. "It's... cranberry juice, cranapple." Then he stopped, seeing that the blood was too dark and thick. "I mean, chocolate. From a.. Dove bar. Hershey's syrup." He clicked his tongue, then looked back at you. "Now get out of my tub. What are you doing in there anyway?" He asked, then held up his hand. "You know what, I don't even care. Just... just go. Go... study or something. And stop sounding so damn sad."

Frowning, you wanted to say something in protest, but then you decided to just do what he asked, because you didn't want to have another fight. Slowly you got out of the tub and took the towel to wrap around your wet body. The fact that Bateman didn't even care about your nakedness was a bit disappointing, but now you should have concentrated on other things—exams and your work, because yesterday you had missed your preparation and hadn't even told your boss that you wouldn't come. With an annoyed face, you walked to the door, grumbling: "Have a good time, narcissistic king.

Excited, Patrick suddenly stopped you by putting a hand on your shoulder. He had a tight grip on you, the veins in his hands were visible. "A word of advice—if you're going to walk around my house like a slut..." He motioned to your body. "Then don't be a prude when I want to fuck you. Okay?" Before you could respond, he landed a hard slap on your ass before pushing you out, closing and locking the door. He sighed and finished undressing, putting an ice pack on his face as he filled the tub with water. He soaked his body and let his violent impulses slowly drift away for the day.

Even after some time, your ass still burned from the hard spanking Bateman had given you, but you tried to concentrate on your studies. Again and again you read the same sentence because you couldn't concentrate on anything, all you could think about was what had happened to Patrick and was that really a chocolate? As a nurse, you could tell blood from everything else, but why did he lie to you? Maybe he didn't want to make you nervous...although that wasn't really his type of attitude. Another thing that was bothering you was who did he spend the night with? Probably Courtney, since she called him last night, or maybe he called some prostitutes and they had an orgy. 'Fuck, why do I care?' You scoffed when suddenly the phone rang. Seizing the moment while Bateman was still in the bathroom, you dashed across the living room and grabbed the hung up phone. "Vincent? Vincent, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," the guy replied, bringing the phone closer. "Do you still want me to pick you up? I'll be leaving in a few minutes." Vincent looked out the window and saw that it was starting to pour outside. Your sudden call an hour ago was like a thunderstorm in the clear sky. It made him so nervous and stirred up some old feelings he thought had gone away long ago, but they hadn't and now he wanted to help you with anything you needed.

At the same moment, Patrick stepped out of the bathtub, grabbed his towel and ran it through his hair. He used his fingers to style it slightly, letting his bangs fall into his face. He wrapped the towel around his hips, leaving most of his body exposed. Enjoying the refreshment, he walked out and was about to go into the bedroom when he heard your voice. Bateman stopped and looked into the room to see you on the phone. 'Vincent? The name wasn't familiar. His brother had a friend named Vincent, but he doubted it was the same person. He strode into the room and took the phone from your hand, gently but forcefully. His unhappy expression suddenly changed to a smile as he put the phone to his ear. "Hi. Pat Bateman. Who do I, uh, have the pleasure of speaking to?"

Vincent almost bit his tongue when he heard Bateman's baritone on the other side of the phone. After a short cough, the man put the phone back to his ear. "I'm Rebecca's lecturer and I'm very concerned about her absence from yesterday's lectures," he lied, trying to keep his composure so that Patrick wouldn't notice. "And she also mentioned that you can be aggressive at times. Is that true?"

"Give it to me!" Suddenly you grabbed the phone and pulled it away from Bateman with all your might. "Give it to me or I'll start screaming and your neighbors will call the police!" You were absolutely cold-blooded and desperate in your attempts to snatch the phone from him. When Patrick tried to push you away as an annoying pest, you were ready to bite him without fear.

Scowling, Patrick let go of the phone when you reached for it and stared at you. He calmly walked to the phone dock and pressed a button, the phone shutting off and going to dial tone. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair before turning back to you. The man grabbed your hand to steady you, his face looking more exhausted than angry. "Listen to me." He said softly, staring at you intensely. "If you continue this behavior, you will ruin my life. If you keep acting like a...victim...like you're trapped here...calling for help and making up rumors about me to your ex-boyfriends, and yes, I know that's not your teacher—I've met her. Hear me out. You…You're going to bring down everything I've spent my life building." He inhaled slowly. "I'm just as trapped as you are... and I know my behavior can be... erratic at times, but I really am trying my best. Do you understand that? Do you hear the words I say to you?"

Breathing heavily, you fixed your still wet hair. "When you say I'm not a victim," you paused and swallowed. "Why can't I have a fucking phone call?" you asked, crossing your arms defensively. "He's not my ex-boyfriend! He's just a guy from my college and we work together..." Bateman's hot breath on your cheek made you stop talking and jerk away. "And I'm not spreading rumors, I just needed to explain why I wasn't there yesterday." The dangerous glow in the man's eyes was so damn scary that even though you had so much more to say, you decided to save it for another time. "I... I should get ready for work." Sitting on his big bed, so small and weak, wearing only a long shirt and nothing underneath, you felt like a caged bird whose owner was teasing it with an open window, proving to the statement that freedom was only an illusion.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[bdbdhdjdhdh]

Crimeblind Episode 2

"Crimewatch, but we're blind...Episode 2,"

She was just stopping to buy some fish soup at the local hawker centre, before returning to the hospital for work issues again.

While waiting for the food to be ready, she stared at her book, analysing every word of every paragraph on every page. The average passers-by might think she was just pretending to look smart, but that was certainly not the case.

Just as everyone was minding their own business, going about their day, in a twist of fate, a loud scream of terror and fear came from the fish soup stall, and everyone instinctively or out of curiosity turned their heads to the direction the sound was coming from.

Now, by now most people would have panicked or went forward to see what was going on, but no, not her. There she sat calmly reading her intriguing story, as intriguing as it was to continually absorb her till she couldn't even be bothered that something serious had happened.

Everybody else had circled around, muttering around themselves and causing a commition while she placidly perused through the book.

"Aren't you gonna go? You're the most qualified here..." That familiar voice rang in her head again.

"I'm not spending that much time at the hospital, am I? Why is her voice..."

"Come on, you're better than this, go now, save him!" She could clearly see her 'friend' in full view, cunning as ever.

Was she hallucinating from working a bit too much lately?

She sat in silence for a while.

Her friend's hallucination stared at her for a while.

"Fine, fine, I'll go," She tossed her book back into her bag and brushed past the hallucination.

She strolled over, not batting an eyelid as to the many flustered faces in the crowd, whether they be worried for whatever had happened or simply pretentious parents worrying that their kids be traumatised by such an event and not caring about whatever happened itself.

The crowd quickly dispersed to reveal the man lying on the ground there in pain, and his hand drenched in blood so bad it looked like he had soaked it in deliberately, and hadn't left it to dry yet, what with all the blood still dripping and all.

There were practically zero other visible wounds, so it had been most likely that he was lying down not due to pain, but fear.

The stall had was a one-way-out room, so the only way to access him and properly treat his wounds was being blocked by public threats to him currently-but now that the crowd had been dispersed, she could start.

Once the threat of danger had been neutralised, she turned back to take a quick glance at her patient, who kept his eyes closed on the verge of tears from the pain.

She said nothing, observing intently the severity of the wound.

After an incredibly short while, she singled out someone in the crowd (who was still around but not so close to the man now), "You there, in the green shirt, call 995!!". She even threw in the actual number to ensure that anyone who didn't know or forgot the number could still help.

A few people immediately whipped out their phones and got to dialling the numbers.

She now started to crouch down to get to the level of the man who kept his eyes squeezed shut out of the pain, and spoke the golden statement,

"Sir, my name is Rai, I'm a first aider and I'm here to help you, stay calm, mister, please please please please please don't scream in my face again, I'm tired of that, please don't make my life so difficult, also, what happened?,"

The man opened his eyes a little in order to (very blurred) make out the silhouette of a young lady kneeling near him.

"Uh...I was cutting vegetables and then I wasn't really paying attention and then I..." He immediately squeezed his eyes tight upon seeing the silhouette, and answered her question with a clear voice.

Rai nodded her head in agreement, continuing to avoid eye contact with the wounded man (not that he could see anyway, what with his eyes sealed shut).

She reached for a first-aid kit in her bag, and pulled out a pair of gloves and an absorptive cloth.

"Sir, can you tell me your name? About what time it is and where are you?" She asked as she donned the gloves, being careful not to touch the sterile parts of her hand with her already-donned-gloves.

'Uh...my name is Ka Nee Na, it's about afternoon, and I am at my fish soup stall," He thought for a moment, then replied Rai.

"Good, not disoriented..." She muttered to herself, turning for the cloth she had taken out before and positioning herself to stop the bleeding...before quickly stopping herself at the last minute.

"Sir...this is gonna hurt, you might want something to bite down on," She warned him first, directly in his face this time so he couldn't refuse to hear.

"Ugh..." Mr. Ka was clearly in the denial stage of the five stages of grief, closing his eyes and figuratively shutting his ears to refuse to hear or see anyone or anything.

Rai took out another gauze bandage and stuffed it in his mouth, much to his...well, actually he didn't really struggle since he probably wants it too.

"3,2,1..." She counted down to his moment of suffering before forcing the cloth onto his wound and applying as much pressure as she could in order to stop the bleeding.

"Cfjkdksksjsj!!!" Ka Nee Na screamed in pain but couldn't make out any audible word as the bandage in his mouth was preventing clear articulation.

Rai paid no heed to his cries, instead solely focusing on applying the pressure, giving it all she had.

Even after a few minutes, the bleeding showed no signs of stopping at all, no matter how much pressure Rai applied.

Soon realising that normal pressure would be futile in helping her stop the bleeding, she decided to go with another option, grabbing the nearby pen Ka Nee Na would have normally used to calculate accounts.

Next ingredient on her list was a piece of long cloth. For that she had shouted to the watching crowd, "Does anyone have a piece of extra cloth or shirt I could borrow?" to which one schoolboy affirmed and handed her the cloth.

Getting hold of the pen with a (possibly, just give the benefit of the doubt) sterilised cloth, she meticulously twisted the cloth around the pen while being careful not to aggravate the wound any further.

Once she was done, by the grace of the heavens above, the ambulance had finally arrived just as she plucked out the pen from the improvised tourniquet. Thankfully she would no longer have to pretend to do something while waiting for the ambulance to arrive even though she can't risk aggravating his wound anymore, just for the sake of the crowd watching.

The paramedics quickly arrived with a stretcher and stretched him onto the ambulance, on board to the nearest hospital...which just so coincidentally happened to be the hospital Rai worked at.

So she didn't manage to get her fish soup, and had to help someone out even on her break time, but she managed to gain a free ride back to the hospital! Which is a pretty sweet deal.

On the way back, however, she would soon discover she had even more work to complete now, as her patient had asked her for another favour while on his (well, figuratively) deathbed.

"Hey, um, uh...Rai, was it? Sorry to be asking some random nurse who saved my life for more help, but uh...I needed to be somewhere right about now..."

"Great, more work...whaddya want me to do?"

"Well...I was meant to be a substitute for my son who had fallen ill the day before. He had to invigilate for a class of notorious cheaters an important exam, and had to scrutinise every single one of them and catch them in the act if he could...but then..."

"Sure, send me the coordinates and I'll be on my way...should be fun..."

"Oh yeah, and one more thing...the students are rich as hell, so like...don't trust anyone,"

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

She stepped into the examination hall, much to the surprise of the many students upon seeing her face, probably because they were expecting an easier invigilator to cheat under.

She, on the other hand, paid no heed to their flusters, calmly making her way over to the invigilator's seat, having briefed her fellow invigilator for her temporary takeover of Mr Ka Ni Na's duties.

"Hi, I'm Denise, you're taking over Mr Ka Ni Na, right?" Her invigilating partner introduced herself.

"Mm. Rai." She did the same.

She checked her watch. Precisely 15.00.

"*yawn* You may start now, class," She choked out before heading back to her seat to sleep.

The class appeared a bit confused regarding this sudden, mystery factor's actions, and rightfully so-after all, was she simply faking sleepiness to get them to lower their guard?

The students examined the rare specimen before them cautiously as Rai's partner passed down the examination scripts.

She stood up carefully a while after the students had started penning down their answers, yawning softly after her quick but refreshing nap.

She stared off into blank space tiredly, blinking fast a few times.

The students continued to observe her while getting on with busily writing down the examination answers as well.

She then got up, out of her comfortable seat, stretching a nice, long, satisfying stretch. The students persisted their observations.

Rai stepped off the invigilator's seat podium (yes, podium, the hall WAS oddly shaped like a square-like amphitheatre, stage in front and stage seats at the back, allowing students to easily be able to cheat with no way the invigilator could keep eyes on such a widespread audience), and made her way up the seats carrying that poker-face-well, it was rather more of a I-don't-want-to-be-here face.

Much to Denise's unasked questions written all over her face, Rai continued to go up to the very top, the very back of the seats, observing each and every student's behaviour just as keenly as they had observed her. Only she was being much more detailed this time.

She noticed every little action they took, from the way they gripped their pen to their alleged cheating habits...nothing escaped her sight.

She reached the exit door, then turned back and walked back down to the invigilator's seat again.

She took a step. The student under her hawk-like gaze winced, pierced by an invisible glare.

She reached for his pencil, still lying in the tight clutch of his warm embrace.

"May I have a closer look at this pencil?" She smiled a sincere yet obsolete smile, gesturing for the pencil.

And at that instant all the students within hearing distance put down their pens, shot up their heads, eyes wide.

They knew she was getting onto something.

They just had to pray hard that she didn't realise what actually was going on.

The student was no exception, trembling with trepidation and fear, anxious at the potential discovery of the truth behind the matter.

"Sure, cher," He shakingly replied, afraid of what would happen if he refused.

Rai took the pencil.

She examinded everything about it. From the lead to the wooden part. From the design to the barcode.

The barcode.

There was something off about it that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Rai set the pencil back down on the student's table, far away from his shivering body that dare not move an inch.

She smiled again, pat him lightly on the back, and continued walking back down.

She continued to keep a keen eye on every student in the examination hall, especially those who had already started to let their guard down, calmly strolling down the steps.

And stopped when she reached a certain young man.

He was untidy, his hair all over the place. He sat arrogantly. He wrote his answers with an air of superiority.

He appeared to be the head of something, something big, or at least something he considered to be big, which would explain how he acted like he was some big shot.

Like the popular guy in school, who smokes and vapes and drinks and runs gangs.

Nah, being so hyped up, he had to be some important figure.

Even the student seated next to him dared not put her stuff too close to his 'territorial seat'.

"May I have a look at your pencil, then?" She asked again, this time with less smile and more glare.

He stopped writing, dropped his pencil on the table, and looked back up at her.

"Of course," He nodded, gazing at her with a hint of suspicion.

There was more to this than simple pencil-checking.

Again as Rai picked the pencil up, she examined the same few details-the lead, the wood-

the barcode.

She stared at it for a while, subconsciously watching her every breath while keeping an eye on the gang leader.

He was watching her. But in a way that far extends beyond what was going on in the hall.

She took a deep breath and set the pencil back down on his table.

"What's your name?"

"Syed Ibrahim,"

"Syed...good luck," She gestured to the test paper, open to page number 9, and continued walking back down to the invigilator's seat.

This time she did not stop at anybody, heading straight for the seat.

And picking up the invigilator's copy of the test paper, flipping through it like how any normal person would do it.

Question number 4: The numbers in a number sequence are 1, 0.25, 0.370370 (to 6 s.f). Of the following numbers, which is the next number in the sequence?

a.) 0.0954286

b.) 0.08124218

c.) 0.00390625

d.) 0.00016352

A relative question, though it's quite taxing for the average 10-year old in this class to be taking on something like this, she thought. No wonder they're resorting to cheating.

She put the paper down, and made her first move against the blatant cheating of the entire class.

"Class, I hope you have been studying hard for this test and are thus well-prepared, which I know none of you are," She stood up, supporting herself with the table.

"I'll be collecting all your pencils for you and give you that of my own, class, so please cooperate with me," She held up a woven basket by the handle, flourishing it for all to see.

A thread of groans, gasps and pondering hmms could be heard echoing through the hall. Syed remained with an observing face, closely examining Rai's next move, just as she was doing.

"What...why?" Denise inquired, frustration and intrigue mixed at the mysterious actions Rai took.

"And here I thought it was quite obvious, haven't you noticed the barcodes of their pencils?"

"And what about it?"

"Well, they're all matching, that's for one. Every single student's pencil's barcode in this examination hall matches each other exactly,"

"That...doesn't...tell us anything..."

"Well, if they're not guilty, what's wrong with me replacing their pencils? Unless they're using it to cheat or something?"

And that sentence shut Denise up.

Rai gave her a side eye smirk, then walked up the aisle to collect everyone's pencils.

Rapidly gathering all the pencils with swift actions and replacing them all with pencils of her own, she made her way up the steps, conquering student after student.

And alas, she reached the fated one.

Syed.

He was staring at his paper as she strolled over. Surprisingly and unsurprisingly calm, he was certainly unlike his fellow classmates-no, they were like fish out of water.

"I hope you've been doing well, Syed, and I'll take that off you," She spoke in a composed manner, reaching for the pencil to replace.

Syed did not look at her. His hands left where they were on his lap, his head tilted down, his breathing hardly out-of-the-ordinary.

Either he wasn't the mastermind of this, he didn't know about this at all, or he's certain he won't get persecuted.

She walked on her pencil replacement quest, well aware Syed went back to examining her.

Having made sure she had replaced every single pencil in use in the hall, she went back to the invigilator's seat to study the barcodes of the pencils carefully.

And sure enough, each barcode of each pencil matched each other perfectly...and also the answers.

If the thickest line matched d.) and the thinnest line matched a.), then sure, it did match.

This could only work for MCQ, though, did they seriously think only the MCQ could save them from failure?

She looked up again, to check on the students.

Some were grumbling about not having the answers anymore. Some were pulling their hair out, fumbling over how to still ensure a pass for this paper.

And Syed...he was scribbling something down hastily, yet his head was again tilted to cover his expression, just as he was at the start of the exam.

Denise was muttering something to a student seated near Syed, probably answering a question she had.

"Ugh, you satisfied now? You've confused a lot of the students, and now they say they can't focus on the paper because they never know if you'll suddenly go up to then and snatch it up!" Denise furiously whispered, striding back, much to Rai's amusement.

"Well, I foiled their cheating plans, didn't I? See for yourself, the barcodes do indeed correspond to the question answers," Rai showed off the basket to Denise, smiling her usual smile-not one of sincerity, but of plan and mask.

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Denise shrugged it off, deeming it something minor as a daily occurence.

"At least they won't act up again. *yawn* I'm just gonna...zone out now. Tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep...help me watch over them," Rai whispered, then really zoned out as if she had removed some virtual reality headset and her avatar was remaining stationary-staring off into blank space, blinking momentarily.

"Um...ok..." Denise agreed, though Rai still had a full view of the students, she was in her own world now.

The other students continued to struggle with the lack of their answers, some of them even crying and breaking down, and Denise rushing to comfort them.

Syed, on the other hand, was starting to take the major threat getting out of the way to his advantage now.

Making bold movements-such as blatantly, obviously ceasing to write any more-and showing his face to reveal a complexity of complacency.

Such a bold move, in fact-it was so bold that it attracted the attention of even the slumbering Rai, who immediately sat up to observe his actions-but still maintaining her sleepy appearance, in order to catch Syed off-guard and gain herself the upper hand.

Of course, as bold as Syed was, he wouldn’t dare to blatantly, irrefutably cheat, instead waiting for the opportune moment.

And wait for the oppurtune moment, he did-but come the oppurtune moment, never...

Yes, for Rai had once again stood up and walked down the aisle like she did before for the last time.

Walking straight up to where Denise and Syed was, placing her hand onto their shoulders ever-so placidly.

"Go on," She whispered with a controlling smirk on her face.

"Well...when did you find out?" Denise didn't even bother to keep up the pretense for an extra second, dropping the issue of the crying student.

"Trust no one..."

"What...uh...was that really all it took for you to figure it out?"

"Well, not really, but from the moment you showed that look on your face when I collected the pencils..."

"That was a pretty normal reaction, though,"

"Not to me,"

Syed listened in on the two ladies arguing, patiently waiting for his part of the play.

"The whole...pencil thing was just a front, right? Meant for distracting Mr Ka Ni Na from the real cheaters here..."

"But unfortunately, you didn't take...me into consideration,"

Syed waited some more, drawing his knife quietly.

Or, not so quietly, since Rai took every note of it.

"Alright, now what? What are you gonna do to me? Hand me.to the authorities? Tie me to a rock and sacrifice me to the sun god? Cook me into ragout-"

That was the code.

Syed striked.

But not at Rai.

Making swift work of the student beside him, Syed slit his throat-thankfully not cutting any vital veins, keeping it dead-clpse to his neck.

That student didn't even have the time to react-not even scream, before Rai lunged foward and elegantly snatching the knife off Syed's hands and knocking him away-as swiftly as he had slit the throat.

Both of them really like springing the element of surprise, huh?

Once more, taking advantage of the fact that Denise was stunned, Rai played the same trick Syed had-getting tight hold of her neck and placing the knife to it.

"It's not just...you, is it? It's not just him," *gestures to Syed kneeling in solemn reflection of his mistakes-which are probably how we messed up assassinating Rai rather than actually feeling remorseful for cheating*

"It's everyone in this room. Everyone," She flourished a dramatic act with her fingers to indicate wonder.

"..." Denise and Syed both stayed silent, one knife to her neck and the other crushed by the presence of an oppresor.

"I don't have anything I can keep them occupied with, though...AND I can't leave that guy's wound unattended for too long..." She cast another glance at the now-unconscious and bleeding student, probably from too much blood loss.

The multitude of students crowding around either Syed, her and Denise or the injured student really made her feel like she was back in the Ka Ni Na situation...

"I'll just have to prioritise saving the student AND keeping an eye on Denise and Syed...ugh, why can't Baizurah be here? She's the one who made me come here...wait, wait, wait, no, why am I even thinking about her? I can do this on my own!" She quickly pushed the idea of her previously hallucinated friend out of her mind, and got to saving the student.

Kneeling down just as she had when treating Mr Ka Ni Na, she tried the same treatment as well.

She hadn't a second to spare in stopping the blood flow, yet it was really too much through ordinary methods.

She knew she had to resort to the last and absolute worst method to her to use-her power.

Her Ikigai.

Hovering a hand above the student's neck, she closed her eyes and concentrated even harder than she had to set up the restraining spell. Her hand glowed a vibrant blue all this while, and so to the blue light of her eyes shining through her eyelids.

Then she opened her eyes. And the blue light flashed through. And after it cleared the wound was healed completely. Not a drop of blood. Not a single scar. Good as new.

She could spot Syed reaching again for the knife from the corner of her fading eye.

But she worried not.

Syed stealthily seized the weapon and attempted to strike Rai just as he had struck the student, pouncing on her while vulnerable.

In fact, he was a mere hair away from her neck-and this time, with the supportive demeanour of Denise and a few other cheating students, he wasn't planning on sparing the vital organs.

But she had her own backup plan. Or, backup person.

The knife swung down on her...and was stopped when it briefly met with a bullet that was shot vertically.

From the direction of the bullet stood a young lady in a seriously dramatic pose.

Appearing in the most timely moment possible, AND in an extremely hot black trenchcoat with a white coat underneath...wait, did she wear this in advance? Also, when did Rai call her anyway?

Once again, having not learnt to react faster when encountered with surprises, Syed stumbled back and stunned himself, giving the newcomer all the time in the world she needed to take back the knife straight out from Syed's hands.

Balancing the knife carefully in her hand like a basketball, she took out her final weapon-rope...wait, she brought....rope...

And then she tied each and every one of the students individually... and Denise up with it...with rope...she tied...

And how did she avoid resistance? Oh, she was quite eerily proficient in wielding her gun. Every single student willingly, shakingly, fearfully complied with her because of how good she was with that shotgun.

She could walk up to each individual student, and they would willingly give their hands to be tied up, because of how well she handled her weapon.

Even Syed surrendered his weapon unconditionally. With tremendous fear in etched across his face, just like Denise and all the other students in the room.

Strange.

Anyway. The job was done. Rai got back up, dusted herself off, and immediately snatched the gun out of the lady's hands.

"Please, stop, Baizurah, for the sake of my stupid mental health, messing in my affairs, also why do you even have this, anyway?" She dangled the gun like a lucky charm in front of the lady as if she was a hungry dog dangling a piece of meat.

"What? Getting bored of me already? Oh, right..." The lady paused mid-speech, as if recalling an important event.

"You know what? I don't care what you do with them anymore, I'm outta here," Said Rai WHILE STILL HOLDING THE GUN.

"Fine, fine, I'll leave them to your stupid authorities..." Said Baizurah, who also walked off following Rai.

While leaving the cheating students tied up.

Hold on, is no one thinking about them?

Did everyone just forget about them?

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

"Take me to this address," The man in the black coat and almost vantablack hoodie flashed a map with a labelled address kept dry from the heavy downpour by the umbrella which masked his face.

"Uh, no, I can't, that's an...uh...abandoned hotel, that's kinda...haunted, ya get what I mean?" The driver in the taxi bit his lip, kindly refusing and explaining why.

The black coated man said nothing, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out a large bundle of monetary notes, which the taxi driver immediately snatched.

"Uh...I can take you to road leading to the hotel, but I won't go anywhere near the hotel," The taxi driver negotiated, obviously demanding he get more of the dough where that came from.

And the man in the umbrella gave in. He pulled out yet another bundle, which the taxi driver yet again snatched immediately.

"Well, kind, and certainly wealthy, sir, I would love to send you to your destination, but you see, the rumours about that place...just aren't worth how much you're offering, hmm?" Attempting to extort more from what he thought was an easy money drain, huh.

To that the man in the downpour said nothing. Hiding his face behind the angle of the umbrella, and dressed in so many layers of clothing and coats, covered in elaborate gloves, such that practically no part of his skin was revealed-who even knew what was going on in that devious mind of his.

Then he reached into his suit pocket again. Not to take out another bundle of cash, no, he wasn't about to give in to the taxi driver's pleas anymore-

instead he took out a gun.

And he put it to the driver's forehead.

And then, that was when you could see his eyes widen even more than when he had seen the bundle of cash.

"S-s-so-so-sorry, big sir, I-I-I didn't know you were-"

"Drive." This tone was much more serious and solemn than when he had asked for the first time. "If you make any moves I'll shoot you,"

"Y-yes kind sir," He shakily uttered as the man put away his umbrella, opened the car door and got in the car.

"I knew it, wearing such a serial killer's outfit in a heavily rainy day, asking to be driven to some abandoned hotel, of course he's up to no good,"

It sure didn't help that even without the umbrella covering his face now that he was safely in the driving taxi, all the taxi driver could see from the rear mirror were two curved, devious eyes among darkness staring straight into his soul through it.

"Sir, p-pl-please have mercy on me, I have a wife...and kids...they're still small, they can't do without their father..." The taxi driver attempted to plead for mercy in the same way he pleaded for more money just now.

And again the man said nothing. No, in fact, he had exactly zero reaction to it.

Not really fond of talking, huh, this guy?

[mintsilhouette]

I am back from my vacation, which was wonderful but also WOW, literally no downtime of any kind, and I’m onto the next phase of my time off, which is watching my two nieces (three and five years old) solo for a couple of days! Me of a few days ago thought this would be easy!!!

Flashforward to today, at 12:32am - I only just got them to bed, one had a complete meltdown while in the shower, and there was 3 (!!!) SERIOUS bathroom accidents along the way home (including one ON THE PLANE) that led to several pieces of clothing being THROWN AWAY, only because I couldn’t burn them!!!!!

I would die to protect these tiny children but also oh my GOD, I would not survive having my own. Please think good thoughts if you can about me making it through this and not turning into a pile of dust. I WILL BE MORE ACTIVE AGAIN AS SOON AS I CAN

[psyched-for-you]

I’d prefer if someone who has experience with/knowledge on dissociation answer this.

So, I’ve always struggled with dissociation. Growing up I’d constantly disconnect from reality in the sense that I was always “zoning out” and going into “la la land”. And I would (rarely, AFAIK) have blackouts and forget what I’d said/done, usually something “strange”. I also struggled with psychosis growing up, though the dissociation started long before the psychosis did, and nowadays as an adult I experience dissociation (including episodes of amnesia, not blackouts tho) during months where I have literally no psychotic symptoms. I hear voices internally inside my head, that are not mine and don’t sound like me, which I can’t control, of different genders, and sometimes I can “reach” them by clearing my mind and calling out for who is there. I quite literally experience multiple “streams of thought”, from different people at the same time, fully coherent (as far as I’m aware, it’s hard to focus on just one) for perhaps 15 to 30+ minutes straight (I don’t time it tbh) and when I’m completely calm.

Now, this sounds a lot like DID to me, and I have more symptoms to list but since I am not looking for a diagnosis and you can’t provide one, I’m really asking for advice on what I should do. I have some PTSD symptoms, but aside from that I don’t really have any known disorder which could explain these experiences. I experience hallucinations and disorganised thinking here and there, but not consistent enough to qualify for a psychotic disorder. Literally just random. Maybe I am slowly developing one, but there’s not enough proof of that, and my experiences line up so closely with DID that I can’t get it off my mind. I don’t know whether I should drop the idea of “multiple parts” altogether, since I’m not sure speculating so hard is “good for me”, and I likely will never recover the memories from my childhood and teen dissociative episodes. The problem here, though, is I’m too deeply fixated on the idea of a “dissociated me” and want to continue interacting with the complex voices. At times, this year, it has felt as though someone is “with me”, and I feel “far away” and as if a particular “voice” was on the verge of “switching places” in my body but it wasn’t a belief, more like an interpretation of a sensation. But I could’ve been influenced by the internet, like my brain fabricating/mimicking this particular symptom in a semi-psychotic way. I guess what I really want to know is: could psychosis mimick symptoms of DID? Could a person have these random symptoms with seemingly no trigger and have no diagnosable condition at all? Could I have something unique altogether, between dissociation and psychosis? Would it be reasonable to suspect a dissociative condition at all, or am I pushing myself into a narrative that I don’t fit?

And worse: would it be wrong or offensive of me to view myself as having “multiple selves” or “parts of self”, or to name my voices (which I acknowledge must be SOME type of psychological construct) should they not name themselves? If I truly discover I definitely don’t have DID, is it weird or wrong to feel as though I… must do? It doesn’t feel right that I’ve had all these experiences and I can’t “belong” somewhere.

This was long. You don’t have to answer BTW, I’m just very tired and confused and a little embarrassed and weirdly resentful. I feel like a bit of a freak. I don’t feel comfortable telling professionals IRL about this.

Hi! Quinn here.

I decided to answer, since I do have experience with both dissociation, psychosis and some degree of experiencing myself as multiple people.

Like you said yourself, I can't diagnose you, and I'm not a 100% sure I can tell you what to do, either.

But I can spend a few words on my own experience, and my own personal and professional thoughts on the matter.

So first off, I think I'm going to say this a lot on this blog, and it's going to become really annoying, but I truly believe that the amount of focus we have on diagnoses and their differences, can be harmful. I don't think it's very helpful to anyone to get stuck on whether they have this or that diagnosis, if their experiences are "valid" as this or that, based on arbitrary categorizations.

The fact of the matter is that you experience these things, and they are there, regardless of whether they belong to a named disorder.

I'm going to get a bit personal, and talk about myself for a hot minute.

I grew up with psychosis, dissociation and trauma as pretty consistent factors in my life. At a point in my early twenties (and arguably prior to that), I further became aware that I wasn't "alone" in my head. At first I was scared, and I told my psychiatrist, who immediately freaked out and doubled my dose of antipsychotics. That didn't really help though, and for a long time I fought against "the others". Then one day I met a new partner, who has DID.

I was terrified that if they found out about my "others", they would think I was mocking or appropriating their experience.

Long story short, they helped all of me come to terms with who I (we) are, but for years I struggled with that same question: Is it psychosis? Is it dissociation? An overactive imagination? A coping mechanism?

.... All of the above?

In the end I discovered that I don't much care what causes these experiences. All I know is that it doesn't harm me or others, and that there's nothing "morally wrong" about experiencing this level of compartmentalization without knowing the direct cause.

As for naming what your experience as other parts of yourself - all I can say is that in my experience, the act of naming something has a lot of power to speak it into existence. That's not to say "don't", but rather to tell you to consider what it is that you hope to gain by naming these parts of yourself.

I do find that dissociation and psychosis are related concepts, albeit not always co-occurring. But many psychotic people experience a level of compartmentalization that lends itself to thinking in terms of dissociative disorders, and many people with dissociative disorders could also be diagnosed with a psychotic disorder.

I think we're doing ourselves and our communities a disservice, if we insist that there can be no relation.

Given the professional climate, where most people with DID get a diagnosis as something psychotic, I do understand why people with DID are arguing strongly that they aren't psychotic. There is an important distinction between "pure DID" and someone with schizophrenia. But that doesn't mean schizophrenics and other psychotic people's experiences of compartmentalization are wrong or bad.

Schizophrenics etc who experience compartmentalization are not the problem - professionals who invalidate and belittle their patients, are the problem.

Sorry..... That was a tangent.

Anyways, yeah just... I know this is not easy, but my best suggestion is to work against the urge to obsess over what's "really going on", and shift your focus towards what feels right and healthy for you.

All the best,

Quinn

[hollanderfangirl]

I Can Never Forget You |Tom Holland|

A/N: Prosopagnosia, also called face blindness, is a cognitive disorder of face perception in which the person is not able to recognise even familiar faces, including one's own. It's not 'blindness' exactly, they can very well see the face but are not able to tell them apart. They use other features such as hair to recognise people close to them.

Also I was actually writing smut but I'm missing someone terribly, so this....

Warnings: none

Word count- 1.2k

Life is hard when you can’t recognise the people around you. You never knew who was talking to you, or standing in front of you. You tried so hard to remember, but you just couldn’t. You couldn’t even remember the faces of the people closest to you or even your own.

You stand in front of the mirror, seeing the girl in front of you. She had a pretty face no doubt, but a little tired. She had these big beautiful eyes that you really adored, and her hair actually looked good today. Not bad, you think.

You hear the noise from the TV as you made your way downstairs. “Tom Holland has been spotted…”

That name made your heart skip a beat. It had been so long since you had seen him. Almost a decade. You tried to remember what he looked like but of course you couldn’t. But you remembered him. Your best friend. Your first love. The boy who showed you the world when you were just five years old. You remembered his silly jokes, how you both played on the swings in the park. How he once punched a boy because he was bothering you. Your first kiss, it wasn’t even that much of a kiss, but to you it was everything. Just a little peck on your lips, which barely lasted a second, behind a slide in a park on a Thursday afternoon. You remembered it all. You could not forget those precious memories, you could not forget him, even when you couldn't bring his face to your mind whenever you thought about it.

Your whole family knew him. Just like his family knew you. They always talked about how you both would get married one day when you were older. You found it gross back then, but now you would give anything to have that. Usually you would go on for days or months without thinking about him. But sometimes, just a mention of him or a small thing would remind you, you were sure it was him when you saw that boy with dark brown hair on the street two weeks ago. But you had been mistaken, just like always. You always mistook him for someone else, just hoping that one day, you were finally able to find him.

You remember the day you did find him again, just not how you thought you would. You kept staring at the screen which said he was casted as the new Spiderman. You wondered if it was really your Tom, so you rushed to your room, searching through old photos of you both. You always thought about what he had become. How he had changed. Did he still like Star Wars? Was he still into sci fi movies? Did he still sleep with his Spiderman blanket? Spiderman. He was casted as fucking Spiderman now. Did he even remember you? He still meant the world to you but you weren’t sure if you meant even a fraction of the same to him. You had always imagined finding him through social media, or him coming back on your doorstep, saying how much he missed you.

But now every possibility just seemed out of reach. It had been six months since you reached out to him, you had sent him numerous private messages on his Instagram, you could have commented on his posts, maybe he would actually see those, but you didn’t want to seem desperate. So you sent him letters to his house, you weren’t sure if he read any of them. You had lost all hope now.

You just sit by the TV looking at the unfamiliar but familiar face. It was hard to tell that it was him but his name was displayed in bold letters, so it ought to be him.

The doorbell rang and your mom signals you to open it. You reluctantly get up and open the door, almost absentmindedly. You see a boy, about the same age as you, he had dark brown hair and he was kinda cute. He looked familiar, you could tell that by his hair but you still didn’t have any hint of recognition. “umm yes?” you say.

“Y/n I- ”

“Wait you know my name?” he seemed a little too familiar. No…no it couldn’t be. It could not be him.

“Oh my god!” your mom exclaims from behind you. “So you’re Spiderman now huh? Come in, it’s been so long, love”

What? What the hell is happening? Your mom could recognise him but not you? Was this a dream? Or were you just hallucinating? Your legs were trembling and you were sweating, your hands were involuntarily shaking. You just kept staring at his face, trying to convince yourself that it really was him and this was really happening. You try to form words in your mouth but you freeze.

“So… how have you- how have you been, y/n?” he asks you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Uhh what do you mean?”

“It’s been ten years. Where were you? Why did you show up- like…outta nowhere? Why are you here?” the words come out too suddenly, you knew that was not how you should speak to someone whom you’ve met after so many years. But you couldn’t help yourself, the situation seemed too bizzare.

“I….I saw your letters. I just read them all”

“Just read them? I’ve been sending you letters for six months. Six months! What took you so long?!”

“Yeah well they must have gotten mixed up with fan mail you know”

“Do I look like your fan, Holland?!”

“My assistant must have thought so, jeez. Are you angry with me?”

“No.. I’m just confused. It’s been so long, I’ve been trying to find you for so long. Why did you leave like that? You never told me you were moving. You never told me you were leaving school”

“Y/n it happened so suddenly, I- I don’t even remember about it now”

“I even called your mom, but the number wasn’t valid anymore,” you were on the verge of crying now, you couldn’t hold back your emotions anymore. Talking to him now seemed exactly like when you were kids, it brought back memories you didn’t even know you had.

“Yeah mum changed her number, look I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am. I have absolutely no excuse for not staying in touch with you. And I’m so sorry it took so long”

You sniff and wipe the few tears forming in your eyes. “You’re exactly the same. You idiot!” you laugh and hit his head lightly.

He laughs along with you. “And you’re even more beautiful than I remember”

You feel your cheeks becoming a tint of pink, you look away and try to change the topic. “So….Spiderman, huh?”

“Yeah that” he rubs his hand at the back of his head.

“Hey, just so you know, I didn’t try to get to you because you’re…famous or whatever now okay? I’ve tried to search you for years, and- “

“I know…. I know, you don’t have to- explain it. It’s me who should give you an explanation” he says putting his hands on your shoulders. “And did you really not recognise me? Did you….forget me?”

“I can never forget you, Tom, it's just....um I’ll tell you some day,” you couldn’t tell him just now. He was back to you after nearly a decade, you didn’t want to tell him just yet.

“Okay so tell me all about it! How are your brothers? And your mum and dad? And do you really wear a thong underneath your suit?” Of course you had done your research.

Taglist-

@mischiefmanaged011 @notsosmexy @perspectiveparker @justanothermarvelmaniac @missguidedlani @purpleskiesstorm @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003 @peterspideysstuff @musicalkeys @theliterarymess @hollands-weasley @ilarbu

[spellthemoon]

THAT WINTER

Mark Tuan x Reader. Angst.

***

Winter, 2019

Today, there was a rude customer. She treated me like i'm her servant. I really wanted to scream but i bit my tongue to keep being professional. It wasn't a good day but i'm finally in my room wearing my pajama. I hope tomorrow will be a better day. How's your day, Mark?

-

Today i went to a cafe alone. It was so comfortable. But there's a couple sitting in front of me. They looked so cute. It made me miss you more. How are you, Mark?

Spring, 2019

I'm so sad now. I fight my with friend. I caught her boyfriend holding hands with another girl and i told her but she didn't trust me. She said i should mind my own business. Am i wrong?

Summer, 2019

I feel so lonely these days. I feel like everyone is leaving me one by one. You too.

Winter, 2020

After a long tiring day, the thought of writing an email for you is enough to give me strength through the day. I know you're not going to reply. Maybe you will not even read my emails. Well, do you even still use this email? Regardless, please allow me to use this email to talk to you. This is the only way to reach you and it's enough for me. Anyway, how's the weather in LA?

Summer, 2020

Why did you leave me without a word?

-

I miss you. Please come back to me. I miss you so much.

Winter, 2020

Mark, how's your day? I hope you're healthy and doing well. Mark, Mark Tuan. The name i really miss to call. The name that brings me smile and tears.

Mark, i'm sorry for everything. If you read all my emails, i must be look so pathetic to you. It's been two years but i keep doing this. I didn't understand why you left just like that. I didn't understand why you cut me off just like that. Even when i can finally meet you, i will not ask any question. From now on, i'll just accept it. Now i know what i need is not an answer. What i need the most is acceptance. I'll accept that we have to parted ways like this. I'll accept the fact that we already ended. I'm sorry it took me two years. I'll stop what i've been doing for the past two years. Goodbye, Mark. I'm sorry..

***

It's been two months since you stopped send any email to him again. It's still hard for you because you used to do that whenever you need someone to listen to you about what you feel. You can't tell anyone else but him. You used his inbox as your own diary and now you decided to close it forever. So much questions are still lingering on your mind. Why he left you without a word when the two of you didn't even fight? What kind of mistake you did to be left alone just like that? How could you heard it from anyone else? Leaving you like a fool. Why did he treat you like you didn't exist? Why did he has to hurt you like that?

Day by day, the questions are on your mind. You keep thinking about it every single night for the whole two years. Your heart is broken into pieces and you can't even cry anymore. But right now, you decided to close all the feelings and memories. It's time to accept the fact that someone whom you love has dumped you. He abandoned you. You have to accept it so you heart will be in peace.

You started with the emails and deleting all the pictures you have with him. You throw away his clothes from your closet. You still have a hard time to erase all the memories of him from your mind but you do it little by little. You tried to not have any grudge, you tried to only remember him as a good person, as someone you once loved. You do that for your own good. So, you won't be living your life in vain. So, you can fully accept it and start your day with the new you. You, who stop hoping for someone who doesn't want to be on your side.

***

You decided to have a night walk on your way home. It's the end of winter season so the wind still feels so cold but not freezing. You love it this way. Winter is your favorite season although it brings some an odd feelings to you. Winter is the season when you feel so lonely the most but it's also the season that makes you calm.

You enjoyed the night breeze and walked slowly. It's how you relieve the stress through the day. You feel refresh again. You looked up to the sky and really appreciated the moon that gives the light to your night.

You just looked around the streets and the branches that soon will have a beautiful flower. The night was so more beautiful than usual. It was when you see a really familiar figure about five meters from you, you stopped your step. Your whole body was malfunctioning in second. You were in the verge of crying when you thought that you're just hallucinating. You can't trust your own eyes. The person who also looked at you without a sound, took his step closer to you.

When you saw Mark moved forwards from his place, you took a step back. Three more steps back when he took another step to you. You wanted to scream at him, telling him to stop but you can't even open your mouth.

Mark hesitated to take another step when he saw you took a step back. His heart was pounding crazily. His hands were so cold. It's so hard for him catch a breath. Mark kept move forwards to get closer to you. He took other steps more confidently when you stayed at your place. He could see your expression and he felt like someone just throw a big punch to his chest.

"It's been a while." He said when he's already in less than one meter from you.

***

You couldn't avoid the situation even though you wanted to escape from this so badly. You were so confident that you already forgetting everything about him but it's all crushed when he's here, sitting next to you at the park in winter night. You couldn't even look at his face because you're afraid that you'll cry like a mess. You don't want that. He's no one, right now.

"How are you?" Mark started the conversation carefully. He looked at you who still avoiding to look at him.

"I'm good." You said. You tried to show him that you don't want a further conversation even though you still have all the questions of why he left on your mind. But you buried those deep inside your heart. It's over already.

"I'm here just to see you."

You really didn't know what to answer. You just wanted to run away from this situation so you just stayed quiet. You didn't care about his reason why he wanted to see you. At least you tried to convince yourself that you don't care anymore.

"I want to explain anything. For what i did two years ago." Mark said in a calm manner.

How could he? How could he's so calm like that when he knows he crushed your heart two years ago.

You hold back your tears. You have promised yourself you will not cry because of him again. You will not let yourself hear a word from him. Not after two years.

"You don't need to. It's already two years ago." You said, still didn't look at him.

"But i still​ think i have to explain everything to you. I want..."

"And i think i have a right to not want to hear it, don't you think so?" You cut him off and raised your voice intentionally.

"I always read your emails." Mark's words made you close your mouth. "I.. i always waited for your email. Everytime."

Now he made you more confused than before. You don't understand his mind at all. "What are you saying?"

Mark looked down because the guilt feelings attacked him strongly. He suddenly couldn't face you. He deserves tha hatred look from your eyes.

"I needed to go back to LA because of family matters. My parents needed me to be there."

"I said i don't want to hear it." You stood up and ready to walk away from him but Mark hold your hand.

He let go of your hand when he realized that it feels so strange to hold your hand after two years.

"Please. Please let me explain everything. I know it won't change anything but please give me time to tell you what happened." Mark pleaded.

"I didn't tell you anything and just left you without saying anything was because i was so scared that i wouldn't have a guts to leave. I was so scared that i would abandoned​ my family for you. I was scared if i came to you before i go back, i wouldn't be able to leave." Mark finished his words and gasping. He didn't​ let you cut his words. "Reading your email always saddened me but it kept me working hard to settle my family matters so i can come back to here. To you. You suddenly stop sending email for months and i was so worried."

Now you can look at Mark's eyes. He got teary eyes just like you. But you won't let a single tear falls.

"You did those things for yourself, right? But did you ever think about me? For how broken i was? We were just talking at night and suddenly you're gone in the morning and left me with nothing." You're out of breath. "I was worried like a mad woman, did you know that? When your friend told me that you're going back to LA, did you know how confused i was? And now what? You said you read my emails? You wait for it?" You let out a hurtful laugh. You're so sure people nearby can hear how thick the sadness you have in your voice.

"Mark, you didn't​ just broke my heart as a girl. You broke me as a person." You took a deep breath. You have to finish this fast because you feel like you'll throw up. Your head is so hurt. "For the past two years, i can't sleep peacefully. I feel so lost. I keep asking myself what did i do to you. When i decided to stop send you an email was because i wanted to forget everything about you. I'm almost there. It's no use to explain everything to me right now. It's too late, Mark."

You hope Mark will stop because you can't handle anything anymore. Him explaining everything to you is like reminding you to the wound that almost healed.

Mark couldn't say anything because he heard you. He heard how your voice was so hoarse and how your face was full of sorrow and frustration. Mark knew he's selfish. He hurts you twice. When he left you, he was only thinking about himself and now when he came to you after two years, he's only thinking about himself too. If Mark was someone else, he'd make sure to punch himself hard on the face.

Mark could not even call your name when you turned your back and walked away from him. He was looking at your back with regrets.