Finding a Yandere in Reverse World

[Brooke’s POV]

I jolt awake, my heart racing as Erica’s anguished scream pierces the air. The world comes into focus slowly, details emerging from the haze of sleep like a photograph developing. I’m sprawled awkwardly on the loveseat, my neck stiff from the uncomfortable position. The first rays of dawn filter through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room.

Erica stands in the center of the room, her body rigid with tension. Her blonde hair is a wild tangle around her face, and her blue eyes blaze with a fury I’ve never seen before. In her trembling hands, she clutches a piece of paper, crumpled and creased from her tight grip.

“What?” I mumble, my voice thick with sleep. “What’s going on? Why are you screaming?”

Erica’s head snapped towards me, her gaze so intense that it felt like a physical blow. Her face is flushed an angry red, a stark contrast to her usual pale complexion. Veins stand out on her neck as she struggles to control her breathing.

“Tessa fucking kidnapped Jason,” she snarls, each word dripping with venom.

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. My blood runs cold, and I feel the color drain from my face. “What?” I whisper, unable to comprehend what I’m hearing.

Without a word, Erica thrusts the crumpled paper at me. I take it with shaking hands, smoothing out the creases to read its contents. The note is addressed to Erica, and as I read, I feel my stomach twist into knots. It claims to be from Jason, saying he’s breaking up with Erica and running away with Tessa.

“This... this can’t be real,” I stammer, looking up at Erica. Her face is a mask of rage and pain, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Of course, it’s not fucking real!” Erica explodes, her voice cracking. “Jason would never... he couldn’t...”

“We need to call the cops,” I say firmly, pushing aside my uncertainty.

Erica’s hand flies to her pocket, pulling out her phone. She taps the screen frantically, her eyes scanning whatever information appears. Suddenly, her entire demeanor changes. The wild panic in her eyes fades, replaced by a cold, calculating look. Her posture straightens, and her breathing evens out. It’s like watching a switch being flipped, transforming her from a frantic girlfriend to a composed assassin.

Her ice-blue eyes lock onto mine, sending a chill down my spine. “Brooke,” she says, her voice unnervingly calm, “call the cops and then call your mom. Your mom has the app to track Jason’s location.”

Before I can respond, Erica snatches my car keys off the table. The metal jingles ominously in her grip.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Erica’s lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m going to get my Jason back.”

As Erica’s words hang in the air, a groan from across the room catches my attention. Tara stirs on the couch, her long limbs tangled in a throw blanket. She blinks slowly, her green eyes clouded with confusion as she takes in the scene before her.

“Hey... hey... hey,” Tara mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. She pushes herself up on her elbows, swaying slightly as she does so. “Maybe... maybe they really are in love, you know?”

The room goes deathly silent at Tara’s words. I can practically feel the temperature drop as Erica’s icy glare fixes on our friend. For a moment, I worry Erica might actually lunge at Tara, but instead, she takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring.

“Obviously,” Erica says, her voice dripping with barely contained rage, “we were roofied last night.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. My blood runs even colder, if that’s possible, as the implications sink in. Suddenly, the fuzzy edges of my memory and the gaps in my recollection of the previous night all make a horrifying kind of sense.

“That... that explains why I hardly remember anything,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. The room seems to spin around me as I try to piece together the fragments of last night’s events.

A rustling from the far corner of the room draws my attention. Nikki and Justine are finally stirring, their movements slow and uncoordinated. Nikki’s hair is a tangled mess, while Justine squints against the morning light.

As they begin to wake, I turn back to Erica, and a horrible thought occurs to me. “Do you... do you think Tessa kidnapped my brother while he was roofied?” I ask, my voice trembling.

Erica’s expression softens slightly as she looks at me. She sighs, running a hand through her disheveled blonde hair. “Roofies wouldn’t work on Jason,” she says, her tone a mixture of frustration and something that sounds almost like pride.

Erica’s words hang in the air, heavy and perplexing. My mind reels, struggling to comprehend the implications. ‘How could roofies not work on Jason? Is he some kind of superhuman?’ I open my mouth to ask, but Erica cuts me off before I can form the words.

“Brooke, shut the fuck up and do what I told you to do,” Erica snaps, her voice razor-sharp. Her blue eyes blaze with a mixture of desperation and determination that makes my breath catch in my throat. “Call the cops and call your mom. Tell your mom I’ll meet up with Jason and the cops in Niagara. Tell the cops Tessa is heading for the Canadian border.”

The urgency in her tone snaps me out of my confused daze. I fumble for my phone, my fingers trembling as I unlock the screen. “Okay,” I manage to stammer out, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please... please save my brother.”

Erica’s demeanor shifts once more, the frantic energy draining from her body again. She stands tall, her posture relaxed yet poised, like a predator ready to strike.

“I will,” she says, her voice steady and confident. Without another word, she turns on her heel and strides towards the door, my car keys jingling ominously in her hand.

As the door slams shut behind her, I’m left staring at the space she once occupied, my mind whirling with questions and fears. The weight of responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders as I dial 911, praying that we’re not too late to save Jason from whatever twisted plan Tessa has in store for him.

‘This is my fault.’

As the guilt settles in, my chest tightens painfully. The room seems to shrink around me, the walls closing in as my breath comes in short, ragged gasps. My vision blurs, dark spots dancing at the edges as panic claws its way up my throat. The phone in my hand feels impossibly heavy, the screen swimming before my eyes as I struggle to focus.

Just as I feel I’m about to be swallowed whole by the rising tide of anxiety, a crisp, professional voice cuts through the fog. “911, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher’s calm tone acts like an anchor, giving me something to cling to in the storm of my emotions.

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can form the words, Justine’s voice rings out, sharp and confused.

“Where’s Jason?” she asks, her red hair a tangled mess as she looks around the room with bleary eyes. The question hangs in the air, heavy and ominous, a stark reminder of the situation at hand.

Nikki, sprawled on the floor with her arm thrown over her eyes, groans in response. “Shut the fuck up,” she mutters, her voice rough with sleep and irritation. The harshness of her words seems to vibrate through the tense atmosphere of the room.

The contrast between Justine’s innocent query and Nikki’s sharp retort jolts me back to reality. I take a deep breath, forcing the air into my lungs as I fight to regain control. The dispatcher’s voice comes again, patient but insistent, “Hello? Is everything alright?”

“No!”

*****

[Tessa’s POV]

I stare at Jason sleeping in the motel bed, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. The cheap polyester sheets are tangled around his legs. His hands are bound above his head with silky black rope, a stark contrast against his pale skin. In sleep, his face is relaxed, free from the worry and guilt that clouded his features earlier. He looks so beautiful, so peaceful, it makes my heart ache.

I can’t help but wonder how lucky I was to pick Jason over Erica. My fingers itch to reach out and trace the line of his jaw, to run through his tousled hair. But I resist, not wanting to wake him just yet. Let him have these last few moments of untroubled sleep before reality comes crashing back.

The sudden blaring of my ringtone shatters the quiet. I fumble for my phone, silencing it quickly. I glance at the screen and sigh heavily. It’s my cousin Nicole. She’s a cop from Rhode Island, and I thought I’d have more time before she caught wind of what was happening.

With a resigned shake of my head, I answer the call. “Hello?”

Nicole’s voice comes through in a frantic rush, high-pitched with panic. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Tessa? Have you completely lost your mind?”

I move to the bathroom, keeping the door open a smidge. The fluorescent light flickers overhead, casting harsh shadows across my face in the grimy mirror. “Nice to hear from you too, Nicky,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.

“Don’t you ‘Nicky’ me!” she hisses. “Do you have any idea what kind of shitstorm you’ve started? There’s an APB out for you. Kidnapping, sexual assault, crossing state lines. What were you thinking?”

I lean against the cracked tile wall, closing my eyes. “I was thinking that I’m in love,” I say softly. “And that sometimes you have to take drastic measures for love.”

“Love?” Nicole scoffs. “This isn’t love, Tessa. This is an obsession. You need help.”

I run my hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up inside me. “You don’t get it, Nicole,” I say, my voice low and intense. “This isn’t just some fleeting crush or obsession. What Jason and I have... it’s real. It’s deep. It’s the kind of connection most people only dream about.”

I pace the small bathroom, my reflection flickering in and out of view as I pass the mirror. The fluorescent light buzzes incessantly, a grating counterpoint to the turmoil in my mind.

Nicole’s voice crackles through the phone, sharp and urgent. “Tessa, listen to me. You need to end this now. Jason is chipped.”

I freeze, my hand halfway to my face. “He’s what?” I ask, disbelief coloring my tone.

“Chipped,” Nicole repeats. “Like a dog.”

I whirl around, my eyes darting to the partially open bathroom door. Through the crack, I can see Jason still sleeping peacefully on the bed, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

“Who the fuck would do that to a person?” I whisper, horror and fascination warring in my voice.

Nicole’s sigh crackles through the phone. “Apparently, his very possessive girlfriend.”

I lean against the sink, my legs suddenly weak. The porcelain is cool against my palms, grounding me as my mind reels with this new information. I stare at Jason’s sleeping form, trying to reconcile how I can work through this.

“Where...” I start, then pause, swallowing hard. “Where is the chip?”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. When Nicole speaks again, her voice is filled with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Why the fuck would you even ask that?”

I grip the edge of the sink, my knuckles turning white as I stare at my reflection in the grimy mirror. My eyes are wild and desperate, a stranger’s eyes looking back at me.

“I need to know,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I need to get it out. I can’t let them track us. We need to be free, Nicole. Free to love each other without interference.”

I can practically hear Nicole recoiling on the other end of the line. “Jesus Christ, Tessa. I have no fucking idea where it is.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I stumble back, colliding with the bathroom wall. The peeling wallpaper scratches against my bare skin as I slide down to the floor.

“No,” I moan, tears welling up in my eyes. “No, there has to be a way. We were meant to be together. I can feel it in my bones, Nicole. He’s my soulmate.”

“Tessa, listen to me,” Nicole’s voice is urgent, pleading. “I can slow the police down here by maybe a half hour tops. They’re monitoring the border. Leave the boy and get the fuck out of there, or you’re going to spend a long time in prison.”

The word ‘prison’ echoes in my mind, conjuring images of cold steel bars and endless grey days. Panic claws at my throat, threatening to choke me.

“Fuck,” I gasp, my breath coming in short, sharp pants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I crawl to the bathroom door, pushing it open wider. Jason is still asleep, his face peaceful, unaware of the storm raging around him. I drink in the sight of him, committing every detail to memory. The way his lashes fan across his cheeks, the slight part of his lips, the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

Seconds stretch into minutes as I stare, unable to tear my eyes away. It feels like I’m trying to memorize a masterpiece before it’s locked away forever.

“Fine!” I finally choke out, the word tearing itself from my throat. “Fine, I’ll go.”

Nicole’s voice softens slightly, a hint of sympathy creeping in. “Head west, Tessa. Take back roads and avoid major highways. And for the love of God, don’t call me again. I can’t be involved in this any further.”

I sigh heavily, my shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, wiping away a stray tear with the back of my hand. “Thanks for the heads up, Nicole. I mean it.”

The line goes dead, leaving me alone with the incessant buzz of the fluorescent light and the weight of my shattered dreams. I step out of the bathroom. The motel room seems smaller now, claustrophobic, and the walls are closing around me.

I grab a pen from the nightstand, the cheap plastic creaking under my grip. The notepad beside it is yellowed with age, the top sheet bearing the faint impressions of countless messages past. I tear off a fresh page, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet room.

As I write, I steal glances at Jason’s sleeping form. The soft light filtering through the grimy curtains paints his skin in a golden glow, making him look almost ethereal. A lock of hair has fallen across his forehead, and I ache to brush it away, to feel the warmth of his skin under my fingertips one last time.

But I resist. I’ve taken so much from him already. This is one small mercy I can give.

The note is complete. I place it carefully on the pillow beside him. My hand hovers over his cheek for a moment, trembling with the effort of holding back. Then, with a strangled sob, I turn away.

As promised in the note I begrudgingly delete the videos I have of him and Erica. But if i can’t have him at least I know Erica will take care of him. A bitter end to my extremely short romance story.

I sneakily unbind his wrists while he sleeps, and then I gather my meager belongings, each item a reminder of the future we’ll never have. As I reach for the doorknob, I pause, taking one final look at the man I love. The man I’m leaving behind.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to keep you after all.’