Finding a Yandere in Reverse World

[Brooke’s POV]

The road stretches out before me, an endless ribbon of asphalt winding its way towards the coast. I grip the steering wheel of my new SUV tightly, my knuckles turning white as I navigate the curves. Beside me, Tessa lounges in the passenger seat, her long legs propped up on the dashboard. The late afternoon sun glints off her dark sunglasses, casting dancing shadows across the interior of the car.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Tessa says, a hint of excitement creeping into her usually calm voice. “A week at your new beach house? It’s going to be epic.”

I nod, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “Yeah, it should be... fun.”

Tessa turns to look at me, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. Her grey eyes narrow slightly as she studies my face. “You okay, Brooklyn? You seem tense.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my hands flexing on the steering wheel. “I’m just... I don’t know. We need to stay focused on our goals, you know?” I glance at her briefly before returning my eyes to the road. “Separating Erica and Jason. It’s important.”

Tessa lets out a low chuckle, reaching over to pat my thigh reassuringly. “Relax, dude. I’ve got it on lock. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Her touch sends an uncomfortable shiver through me, and I squirm slightly in my seat. “I’m not so sure,” I admit. “What if something goes wrong? What if we can’t...”

I trail off, unable to finish the thought. The idea of failing, of not being able to save Jason from Erica’s clutches, is almost too much to bear. My chest tightens with anxiety, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

Tessa’s hand squeezes my thigh gently. “Hey, look at me,” she says, her voice soft but commanding.

I risk another glance at her, my eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before I have to look back at the road.

“We’ve got this,” Tessa says firmly. “Trust me, okay? I’ve known Erica for years. I know how she thinks and how she operates. We’re going to get Jason away from her, no matter what. I have a secret plan.”

“What do you mean, secret plan?” I ask, my curiosity piqued despite my anxiety.

Tessa’s smile widens, stretching from ear to ear in a way that makes her look almost predatory. The fading sunlight catches on her teeth, giving them an eerie gleam. “Let’s just say I have some leverage on them,” she purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

My heart rate spikes and I feel a cold sweat break out across my forehead. Memories of the last time someone tried to use ‘leverage’ against Jason come flooding back, as well as the chaos, the violence, and the aftermath. “Leverage?” I choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tessa, the last time someone confronted Jason with leverage, he... he tried to kill a pregnant girl.”

Tessa waves her hand dismissively, her long black nails catching the light. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’ve told me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I know all about Jason’s little... incident.”

Her casualness about the whole thing is upsetting. But before I can say anything else, Tessa’s smirk widens, her grey eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s why I’m gonna leverage Erica and not Jason,” she says, her voice filled with smug confidence. “She’s the more sane of the two.”

Panic surges through me, making my hands shake on the steering wheel. “Leverage Erica?” I repeat, my voice rising in pitch. “Tessa, are you insane? She’s just as dangerous as Jason.”

Tessa smiles, her eyes glinting with a dangerous light. “Brooke, just trust me, okay? Come Saturday morning, they’ll be properly broken up. You can console your sad, devastated little brother and groom him all you like while I get Erica all to myself.” Her grin turns wicked, an almost evil look spreading across her face.

My blood runs cold at her words. “I would never groom Jason!” I yell, my voice echoing in the confined space of the car. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white, and I have to force myself to loosen my grip before I accidentally veer off the road.

Tessa backpedals quickly, though her tone remains casual. “Sorry, sorry, of course,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “Poor choice of words on my part. I just meant you’ll be there to support him, as any good sister would.”

But the damage is done. My mind races, replaying her words over and over. The implication behind them, the casual way she tossed out such a horrific accusation, it makes my stomach churn.

I steal another glance at Tessa, taking in her relaxed posture, the way she lounges in the passenger seat as if she hasn’t a care in the world. Her long, black-painted nails tap an idle rhythm on the armrest, and her grey eyes are hidden once again behind her dark sunglasses. She looks completely at ease, as if she hasn’t just dropped a bombshell that’s left me reeling.

The sun dips lower on the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and pinks. The beauty of the sunset feels at odds with the turmoil roiling inside me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

“Tessa,” I begin, my voice shaky despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “What exactly is this leverage you have? And how can you be so sure it won’t backfire?”

She turns to me, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. Her grey eyes meet mine, and I’m struck by the intensity in them. “It’s a secret.”

“Okay, Tessa.” I weigh my options and don’t see any other way forward anyway. I’ll have to take this leap of faith. “I trust you.”

*****

[Jason’s POV]

The limo finally pulls up to Brooke’s beach house, the tires crunching on the gravel driveway. As we pile out, I take in the sight before me. It’s not a mansion like Erica’s place, but it’s got a charm all its own. The weathered gray shingles and white trim give it a classic vibe, and the location is absolutely prime, perched right on a bluff overlooking the ocean.

“Damn, this is nice,” I whistle, breathing in the salty air. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over everything, making the whole scene look like something out of a postcard.

Erica comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Not too shabby.” she murmurs, resting her chin on my shoulder.

I start to reach for our bags, but Erica stops me. “Leave it,” she says. “Amelia will take care of all that when she gets here.”

I nod, still not entirely used to having a maid at our beck and call. As we approach the house, the front door swings open, revealing Brooke and Tessa.

“Hey guys!” Brooke calls out, waving enthusiastically. Beside her, Tessa cuts an imposing figure in her usual gothic attire, looking somewhat out of place in the beachy setting.

“Glad you made it,” Tessa says, her voice cool and measured as always. “How was the drive?”

I feel my face heat up, remembering our makeout session in the limo. “Uh, it was fine,” I stammer. “Uneventful.”

Erica snorts beside me, clearly amused by my discomfort.

As we file into the house, I’m struck by the interior. It’s all light woods and whites, with pops of blue that echo the ocean outside. Large windows let in plenty of natural light, and I can hear the distant crash of waves.

“So, sleeping arrangements,” Brooke starts, and I can already sense trouble brewing. “There are only two bedrooms. Obviously, one is mine, and since Jason’s the only guy...”

Erica’s eyes narrow dangerously, her grip on my waist tightening. “Just point to our bedroom, Brooke,” she says, her voice low and commanding.

Brooke’s shoulders slump in defeat as she gestures towards a door down the hall. “That one,” she mutters, avoiding eye contact.

Erica smirks triumphantly, practically dragging me towards the room. As we pass Brooke, Erica can’t resist twisting the knife. “Hope the walls are thick,” she says with a wink.

Brooke’s face contorts in horror, her eyes widening as the implication sinks in. I feel a pang of sympathy for her, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by the heat of Erica’s body pressed against mine.

As we step back out of the bedroom, Tara, Justine, and Nikki finally make their way inside, their eyes widening as they take in the beach house’s interior.

“Wow,” they breathe in unison, clearly impressed by the place.

Tara’s electric blue hair streak bounces as she bounds over to the living room. “Dibs on the couch!” she shouts, flopping dramatically onto the plush sectional.

Justine rolls her eyes, hefting her oversized duffel bag. “No worries, I brought a blow-up bed anyway.”

Nikki nods in agreement. “Same here. We came prepared.”

Tara bounds over to her massive duffle bag, unzipping it with a flourish. “Ladies and gents, let the party begin!” she announces, her eyes glinting with mischief.

She starts unloading an impressive array of bottles onto the coffee table. Vodka, tequila, rum, it’s like a liquor store exploded in technicolor glass. The clinking of bottles fills the air as Tara arranges them with the precision of a boozy artist.

“Damn, Tara,” Nikki says, eyeing the growing collection. “Did you rob a distillery on the way here?”

Tara just grins, reaching back into her bag. “We are so fucking back!”

Next comes a sizeable bag of weed, the pungent aroma filling the room as soon as she sets it down. But it’s the final item that really catches my attention, a small baggie filled with white powder.

I furrow my brow, confusion etched across my face. “Cocaine?” I ask hesitantly.

Erica’s eyes narrow, her lips pursing in annoyance as she glares at Tara. “Ketamine,” she corrects me, her tone clipped.

Brooke’s eyes widen in horror, her face paling as she takes in the pharmacopeia spread across her coffee table. “Oh my god,” she breathes, her voice rising with each word. “The weed is fine. It’s legal here. But ketamine? Absolutely not! I don’t want that anywhere near Jason!”

Erica’s eyes flash with anger, her whole body tensing as she rounds on Tara. “What the fuck were you thinking?” she barks, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “I also don’t want that shit anywhere near Jason! Are you out of your fucking mind?”

I sit there, confusion swirling in my head like a tornado. Part of me wants to speak up, to say it’s fine, that I don’t even want any. But before I can open my mouth, Tessa steps forward, her imposing presence filling the room.

“What is this, two years ago?” Tessa’s cool voice cuts through the tension like a knife through butter. Her grey eyes, usually calm and composed, now burn with quiet intensity beneath the shadow of her hood. “We’re better than this, Tara. I thought we’d moved past this kind of reckless behavior.”

Tara’s electric blue hair seems to wilt as she shrinks under the combined glares of Erica and Tessa. Her eyes dart around the room, wide with panic, like a cornered animal searching for an escape route. “I... I thought everyone would be happy,” she stammers, her voice small and uncertain. “I just wanted us to have a good time, like we used to. Erica even said last time how it was the best…”

‘Oh yeah, Erica did say she did ketamine once, didn’t she.’

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the distant crash of waves outside. The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for someone to make a move.

Nikki is the first to break the standoff. She steps forward, placing a comforting hand on Tara’s shoulder. Her touch seems to ground Tara, who looks up at her with grateful eyes. “Hey, it’s okay,” Nikki says softly, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s the thought that counts, right? You were just trying to make sure everyone had a good time.”

Justine nods, her fiery red hair catching the light as she moves to stand beside Nikki. “Agreed,” she says, her green eyes filled with determination. “Let’s just get rid of it. No harm, no foul.”

I watch as the dynamic in the room shifts, the anger and tension slowly dissipating like mist in the morning sun. Erica’s posture relaxes slightly, though her eyes remain fixed on the offending baggie. Tessa’s intimidating presence seems to soften, her hood casting less of a shadow over her features.

Brooke, who had been frozen in place since her initial outburst, finally moves. She walks over to the coffee table, her movements careful and deliberate. With a deep breath, she picks up the baggie of ketamine, holding it like it might bite her.

“I’ll... I’ll flush this,” she says, her voice still shaky but gaining strength. “The rest can stay, but this... this has to go.”

As Brooke disappears into the bathroom, the tension in the room begins to dissipate like morning fog. The sound of a toilet flushing echoes through the house, and Brooke emerges, looking both relieved and slightly queasy. “It’s done,” she announces, her voice a mix of triumph and lingering anxiety.

I notice Erica glancing at her watch, her brow furrowing slightly. “Hey,” she murmurs, leaning in close to me, “Let’s go check out our room again.”

I nod, grateful for the excuse to escape the lingering awkwardness in the living room. We make our way down the hallway, the hardwood floors creaking softly beneath our feet. The door to our room swings open with a gentle push, revealing a cozy space bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun.

The room is a perfect blend of rustic charm and modern comfort. Weathered wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, contrasting beautifully with the crisp white walls. A large picture window dominates one wall, offering a breathtaking view of the ocean beyond. The king-sized bed is a vision of comfort, piled high with fluffy pillows and a plush duvet in shades of sea foam green and sandy beige.

Erica moves to the window, her silhouette outlined by the golden light of the fading day. She turns to me, her brow creased in thought. “Shit,” she mutters, running a hand through her hair. “Jason, did you bring your sleepytime tea with you?”

I shift uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. “I... didn’t want to,” I admit.

Annoyance flashes across Erica’s face, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re supposed to drink it every night,” she says, her tone a mixture of concern and frustration.

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s not like I’m going to lose resistance for not drinking it for a week,” I argue, though my voice lacks conviction.

Erica pauses, considering my words. The setting sun casts long shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the curves of her lips. After a moment, her expression softens. “Yeah,” she concedes, nodding slowly. “True.”