New Roommates (Isaac Night x Reader)(S) - Part 1
Hi guys!!! Sorry for being gone so long. I am utterly exhausted tbh but like I'm surviving and as long as I am surviving I will write. Haha. Much love to you guys and here is the first part of my new series. I hope I haven't fallen off fr LMAO.
THANK YOUU <3
WORD COUNT: 3.1K
CW: Violence, Slight Gore
You stare out of the frosty window and onto the street highlighted by ice. The sight was oddly beautiful to you, the way the glassy reflection projected the colors the world offered to it. You couldn’t help but get a little distracted from your task as you zone out— at least, you did until you heard your boss’s voice from behind the counter.
“Y/N! How are the windows looking?” She asks with a hint of playfulness in her tone. You blink and draw yourself back into the moment.
“Clear as a crystal,” you replied in a similar tone, “just admiring the view a bit.”
“That’s fine… but don’t admire too long. Just need you to finish up the windows and floors, and we’ll be outta here for the night.”
“Yes ma’am,” you nodded and picked the spray bottle back up.
The rest of the closing shift went smoothly. Nothing different, nothing hard, nothing new. You and your boss locked up the place and said goodnight to each other before heading to your respective homes.
For you, that was a humble apartment on the outskirts of Jericho that you shared with your roommate, William… nice enough guy.
Well... he used to be at least, until he went on a hunting trip with friends and his body was found a few days later in a cave with chains on the wall. Gory stuff, not fun— and he didn’t really deserve it at all. Police chalked it up to a bear attack, poor bastard. God rest his soul, hopefully.
Nonetheless, the tragic passing of your roommate had sadly left you alone to pay the rent for the apartment. While you could do it, it wasn’t without a bit of struggle, and you never truly felt financially secure until the roommate position was filled. You had the ads up; now you just had to wait.
You pushed the door open to the apartment and flicked the light switch. The lights illuminated the living room, kitchen, and hallway of the apartment. You sighed and locked the door before plopping your bag and keys down onto the table. You removed your shoes and put them into the shoe cubby you had before sliding on your house slippers and strolling straight into the bathroom— a hot bath sounding appealing during a colder winter night.
Now dressed in pajama pants and a soft t-shirt, you stare at the screen of the TV as the first season of True Detective enthralled you. With a bowl of ice cream in your lap, you lift the cold spoon to your lips and take another bite before you hear a round of small beats hitting your kitchen window.
You reach forward and pause the show before sitting in silence and staring at the window, waiting for any more sound to emanate from it. You wait a minute… then two… nothing occurs. But it was no house settling, no tree tapping. Something hit your window, and you were well aware of it. Outside in the pitch black, someone knocked.
You sat and contemplated what your next move would be, but it wasn’t long before you heard it again. Knocking on a different window. On the window right next to the door. Unmistakable. Louder. Angrier.
You push the bowl of ice cream off of your lap and onto the table as you rapidly travel to the kitchen to grab a steak knife from the knife block. Sadly, neither you nor your late roommate possessed a gun or a license to even wield said gun. You travel back to the couch to grab your phone before backing up, wielding a sharp object and ready to bolt to the bathroom at any sign of movement.
It was then you started to overthink, your imagination running wild at who could possibly be trying to lure you outside at this time of night. You thought of your late roommate. Where he was found, how much of him was left… You always thought it was scary that a random cave in the woods had chains installed into the wall.
It had crossed your mind that it was no animal that killed him, but another twisted human. A serial killer who was hunting him until he managed to isolate himself. There was at least enough evidence to support the possibility of it.
But that meant the killer had already accomplished their goal the first time around. What’s stopping them from targeting you next? Are you the one currently being hunted?
The thoughts in your mind raced as you waited and waited for another sign of life. Then, the crash.
You scream out as a large body bearing a trench coat crashes through the window next to the door, sending glass flying as you turn on your heel and sprint toward the bathroom.
Much to your terror, you find that you only make it a few steps before being grabbed and pinned against a wall from behind. The force of it knocks your phone clean from your hands and causes you to cry out in fear before flipping the knife and stabbing the person behind you multiple times in the side.
A deep growl behind you causes you to shiver in fear. It was not human; it was not made by a man. This was something else. It releases your hands and stumbles back, giving you the opportunity to cross the remaining distance to the bathroom and slam the door shut. Locking it, you climb over the tub walls and shakily hold your bloodied knife close to you. You had to find an alternative route, as the creature would likely ambush you the moment you left the bathroom.
You glance up at the window near the top of the bathroom. It was high, but you might be able to reach it; it was your only shot anyway. You tuck the steak knife under the waistband of your underwear and hope it stays put without injuring you before turning and hoisting yourself onto the small rounded edge of the bathtub.
You had to be extra careful to ensure you wouldn’t slip and fall as you carefully maneuvered around and managed to reach the latch. It was then you started hearing thunderous rapping on the door— the loud knocks causing you to yelp, hands shaking as it maneuvered the locks.
The knocks paused momentarily, and you pondered if the creature had figured out your plans to escape. Your stomach dropped in fear at the thought. And the fear had only intensified when you realized the creature had found the spare bathroom key sitting atop the door frame of the bathroom— one that had been there in case of emergency. You heard the fiddling of the lock, and your hands sped up to an almost inhuman pace as you flung the window open and jumped without hesitation.
Only your arms and chest made the jump to the window, the rest of your body hanging below, trying to find any hold it could to help boost you through the window, but alas, there were none. You use all of the strength you have in your body to push your upper body through the window— finally, you were actually almost out. You felt determination filling in your body as the blood rushed to your ears; your will to survive was loud.
Loud enough to distract you from the sound of the bathroom door swinging open or the quiet footsteps padding up behind you.
“NO!” You sob out as you feel yourself get harshly ripped away from the window and held against the tall body of the creature behind you as it travels from the bathroom to your adjacent bedroom and kicks the door shut, you flailing and hitting indignantly as hard as you can.
You begin to cry as you are slammed against the bed, kicking and flailing as the creature pins your wrist next to your head and uses its other hands to get your legs under control. Remembering you were armed, your other hand quickly fishes the knife from your waistband and unsheathes it. Drawing back your arm, you prepare to stab the creature right in the head before it raises its hand and the knife instead plunges straight into its palm.
The creature again groans in pain before the stabbed hand engulfs your own and pins your hand down again next to your head. You were now completely defenseless, gazing up at the monster in sheer terror. It was then you could fully take in the appearance.
It’s a man— or, better put, WAS a man. The grotesque mug of the creature stares you down, breathing heavily but staying silent as you start to run out of energy to struggle. Its face was a disgusting, zombified mess of a white man who once had dark, curly hair. One eye was missing, as well as the tip of its nose and half of its lip. His skin was pale and fucked up: bruises, cuts, and distortion littered it.
Its stare was cold and unyielding, watching as warm tears fell to the sides of your cheeks. Your eyes were red and swollen, lips puffy, nose red— you were wailing and certain you were going to die.
“Why? Why? What did I do? Why are you doing this?” You beg the creature as your muscles finally began to fail you. This was it; you were going to be tortured and killed just like your roommate was.
You continue crying and staring at the creature, breathing rapidly as a panic attack begins to set in. And still, it stares. Just stares and stares, and doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. After some time, you could feel your breathing start to steady— your body was becoming too exhausted to even keep crying. Whatever it was, you just wanted it to be over with.
The creature opened its mouth, and you recoiled, scared of the possibility that its next move was to latch onto your neck and tear an artery out.
“You… help…” It managed to rasp out, voice gritty as though the vocal cords had been ripped to shreds. You stared at it for a moment, utterly dumbfounded and without the wisdom of how to respond to his statement.
After a moment of staring, the creature speaks again, “You… help.”
“… I help?”
The creature nods, still unblinking.
“Who do I help?”
“Help… Slurp…”
Your eyebrows furrow together, any fear you once had replaced by outright confusion. Why in the world was this monster telling you to slurp something?
“… What am I supposed to slurp?”
The monster growls again and shakes its head in frustration, causing you to cringe away from it. He then releases your wrist to point at his face, “Slurp. Me.”
If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought this monster was telling you to slurp him. A concerning notion considering that could mean a plethora of things. Upon further consideration, you threw out a possibility.
“Your name is Slurp?”
“Mm,” the creature nodded affirmatively.
“You want me to help you?”
“Mm,” same reaction.
You looked away and took a moment to think before looking back up at the monster pinning you.
“I can’t help you unless you let me go,” you say as you stare into the creature’s soulless orb. His brows furrow as he leans closer to you.
“No run. I catch.”
You nodded rapidly before the creature put his hand on your bare stomach and pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling the knife embedded into his palm out of your grasp and raising his hand into the air in front of him. You did nothing but watch as his other hand reached around to slide the blade out from his palm.
And so here you were, trapped under a creature without weapons or a phone. And yet, you felt significantly less scared than you did a few minutes ago.
The creature grasps the knife firmly before snapping it in half and throwing it into the corner of the room. Looking back at you, it maneuvers backward to free your legs and allow you to get up.
You do so carefully, remembering his warning and ensuring that you won’t make any sudden moves. The snapped knife and the broken window are annoying, but perhaps you could still make it through the night unharmed if you did what the creature requested.
As you slowly padded toward the kitchen, you heard his nearly silent footsteps haunt behind you— proximity close and ready to grab you if you even decided to breathe the wrong way.
You looked around at the mess of glass and mud tainting your otherwise cozy and clean abode. Blinking, you remember that your first aid kit was actually in the bathroom at the end of the hallway. You swallow and turn around to find the creature merely inches away from you, watching you with a predatory intensity.
“I-It’s in the bathroom,” you begin, “the first aid kit…”
The creature finally blinks and steps to the side, allowing you a clear path to the bathroom. You begin to walk steadily, staying clear of glass and dirt. Finally making it to the bathroom, you open the mirror to access the first aid kit at the top of the medicine cabinet.
And so presented your first obstacle— you weren’t able to reach it. Your roommate was the last to use it and was quite a tall man. When he put it back, it was a solid two feet away from your reach. You would have to climb up on the counter.
Sighing, you hoisted a knee onto the counter and prepared to push the rest of your body up onto it. It’s not like you were super slow, but you weren’t as young as you used to be— and you had used up all of your energy trying not to be murdered.
You nearly reached the kit before wobbling and nearly falling off of the bathroom counter. The creature grumbled and reached up to easily pluck the kit out of the cabinet. He used one arm to wrap around your waist and lift you off of the counter before plopping you onto the floor as well. He had moved so fast you didn’t realize what was happening before your feet hit the floor.
A bit stunned, you turned to find him holding the kit and staring at you expectantly.
“Uh… right… Just follow me…” You snap out of it and carefully brush past the creature to make your way to your living room. It follows.
You turn and gesture to the couch before sitting down and opening the kit. The creature shrugs its trenchcoat off and haphazardly removes the shirt underneath before dropping it. It then falls next to you onto the couch, exhaustion beginning to finally show as its muscles relax. You watch with your peripheral vision as you remove the necessary items; you didn’t come anywhere near trusting the zombie not to bite you yet.
When prepared, you turn to find the creature’s eye already on you… watching you. You stared for a moment before breaking eye contact to scan the creature's injuries— the ones you caused, anyway. Four stab wounds to the skin under his ribcage on the right side of his body.
You swallow and slowly reach over to clean the wounds of dirt, blood, and whatever else this thing had picked up on the way here. It hisses but stays still, its eye instead focused on the ceiling above as you continue to clean the wounds.
Finally, you finish bandaging the last of the wounds up. You sit back and watch as the creature turns and looks back at you.
“This too,” it holds up its left hand— hole in the palm bleeding profusely. You nod your head and repeat the process, staying quiet and ignoring when the creature would study you.
“These ones,” it next points to some rotting points on its face and on its shoulder— the best you could do was probably ointment.
“And this,” it leans forward, and you flinch back, staring with wide eyes as it points at its one missing eyeball. You swallow and grab some tissue to pack on over the eyeball and bandage the tissue to the creature's head; it seemed satisfied after that.
It stands, and you watch as it hobbles its way to the kitchen. It rips your fridge door open before aggressively eating the cold rotisserie chicken and the sausage links you had stored inside. It grunts and shakes its head before its vision falls back onto you. Your breath catches as you wait.
It sneers before breaking eye contact and reaching its right hand out; in an instant, the creature’s coat crosses through the air and lands in his uninjured palm. He shrugs it over his shoulder and limps his way out through the front door, which is promptly shut by a force after he disappears into the darkness.
As if in slow motion, the pieces of stray glass littering the floor began to rise into the air. They travel back toward the frame of the window and begin sticking themselves back together. Not before long, your window was made whole again— like brand new. Finally, the lock on the door turned once more, ensuring that the outside world was no longer able to access your abode.
You stand there utterly dumbfounded as the questions in your mind doubled by the second. Almost to the point of a headache.
But after the initial shock had worn off, you realized that you were far too tired to continue having any more thoughts for today. You were done… it was time for bed. Whatever had just occurred was an issue for tomorrow’s you.
You didn’t even bother fully shutting the bedroom door before collapsing face-first into your sheets.
The following morning came blurry, and you had felt the consequences of the previous night’s events seep into your bones. Part of you wondered if it was a bad dream or some sort of delusion, but your wonder was quickly put to rest when you spotted the broken steak knife in the corner of your bedroom. Better throw that out...
Broken knife in hand, you wobble your way out of your bedroom and toward your kitchen-- eyes catching the melted ice cream you had abandoned in last night's frenzy; better take care of that too later.
You scanned the room, looking for any more signs of life until your gaze landed on the muddy footprints. You scowled a bit at it and decided you would clean it up later. You began to shamble back to the kitchen until you noticed something that wasn't there last night. You do a double take as your brain registered what it was: a shiny, sharp new steak knife-- still in the packaging-- sitting right on your countertop. One that was identical to the one that sat broken in your hand. Your eyebrows raised.
What an interesting little situation we have here.
Hahaha, it's fun writing again. And brainstorming... and planning stuff out... and editing. Ah, I missed it! It's nice to start doing it again. And I hope you guys also enjoy it. Can't wait to cook some stuff up.
