Finding a Yandere in Reverse World

Chapter 83: The Wheels

The motel room door swings open with a creak, revealing a dimly lit interior that smells faintly of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Tessa guides me inside with a gentle but firm hand on my lower back, the gun concealed beneath a folded blanket she carries draped over her arm. My legs feel like lead as I stumble across the threshold, exhaustion weighing heavily on every limb.

The room swims before my bleary eyes, generic floral wallpaper, a sagging queen-sized bed with a faded comforter, and chipped laminate furniture that’s seen better days. Weak sunlight filters through dingy curtains, casting mottled shadows across the worn carpet. I blink, trying to focus, but my vision keeps blurring at the edges.

“Sit down before you fall,” Tessa murmurs, steering me towards a threadbare armchair in the corner. I collapse into it, my body sinking into the lumpy cushions.

The lock clicks behind us as Tessa secures the door. She moves to the window, peeking through the curtains before drawing them fully closed. The room plunges into a murky twilight, lit only by the sickly glow of a bedside lamp.

I rub my eyes, struggling to keep them open. My head throbs dully, a reminder of last night’s drinking and the stress of our journey. How long have we been driving? Hours blend together in my memory, an endless stream of asphalt and nondescript landscapes rushing past the car windows.

Tessa pulls out her phone. Her fingers fly over the screen as she types rapidly. The blue light illuminates her face in the dim room, casting harsh shadows that make her look almost ghostly.

“What time is it?” I mumble, my voice rough from disuse.

Tessa doesn’t answer my question about the time. Her eyes remain fixed on her phone, thumb tapping away at the screen with intense focus. The blue glow casts eerie shadows across her face, accentuating the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the determined set of her jaw.

I lean back in the armchair, my head lolling against the threadbare fabric. The room seems to spin slightly, exhaustion and lingering alcohol making everything feel slightly surreal. The faded floral wallpaper seems to pulse and waver in my peripheral vision, patterns shifting and morphing in the dim light.

Finally, Tessa looks up from her phone. She crosses the room in a few quick strides, her movements fluid and purposeful despite the long hours of driving. Without a word, she holds the phone out to me, the screen’s harsh light making me squint.

I blink a few times, trying to focus on the image before me. It’s a screenshot of some kind of scheduling app, with a single ominous entry: “Upload video - 10 hours from now.”

My stomach drops, a cold wave of dread washing over me. “What... what is this?” I manage to croak out, though I already know the answer.

Tessa’s grey eyes bore into mine, her gaze unflinching. “I’ve scheduled the video to upload automatically in ten hours,” she says, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. “If you try anything while we sleep, if you even think about running...” She lets the threat hang in the air, unfinished but crystal clear.

I swallowed hard, and my throat suddenly dried. “Does this... does this mean you won’t tie me up?” The question comes out small and uncertain, a flicker of hope in the darkness of our situation.

A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of Tessa’s lips. She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. “I want to make out before I tie you up,” she whispers, her voice low and husky.

“But,” she says, her tone stern and unyielding, “I’m going to hold onto the gun, just in case you try anything.”

Tessa’s hand on my arm guides me to the sagging motel bed. The cheap mattress creaks as I lay back, springs groaning in protest. Tessa settles beside me, her body a warm presence against my side. The gun rests loosely in her hand, more of a reminder than an active threat.

“You know,” Tessa murmurs, her voice husky with exhaustion, “I’ve figured out the fastest way to your heart.” Her free hand traces lazy patterns on my chest. “It’s through your cock.”

I let out a soft snort, too tired for a more eloquent response. Tessa’s lips quirk into a small smile.

“I need to get you addicted to my body,” she continues, her grey eyes heavy-lidded but intense. “But right now...” She yawns, the action at odds with her seductive words. “Right now, I’m too tired to fuck. And you look about ready to pass out, too.”

I manage a weak nod, fatigue weighing down my limbs. The faded floral comforter beneath me feels impossibly soft after hours in the car.

Tessa’s hand moves to cup my face, her touch surprisingly gentle. “But we can still kiss,” she whispers, leaning in close.

Her lips meet mine, soft and warm. The kiss is lazy, lacking the frantic energy of our earlier encounters.

We trade slow, languid kisses, our movements growing more sluggish with each passing moment. Tessa’s fingers tangle in my hair, tugging gently.

My eyes drift closed as Tessa deepens the kiss, her tongue exploring my mouth with unhurried thoroughness. The taste of her mingles with the lingering traces of fast food and cheap coffee from our journey.

Time seems to stretch and blur, marked only by the soft sounds of our kissing and the distant hum of the ancient air conditioner. Eventually, Tessa pulls back, her breath warm against my cheek.

“Sleep,” she mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of my neck. “We’ll continue this later. And don’t worry i set an alarm.”

*****

“Wake up, Jason!”

Lindsey’s shrill voice cuts through the haze of sleep, jolting me awake. My eyes snap open to a scene of utter chaos. The Boston skyline is ablaze, flames licking at the night sky, painting it an angry, roiling orange. The air is thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning plastic and metal.

‘Where did Tessa go?’

I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Lindsey looms over me, her neon blue hair a stark contrast against the fiery backdrop. Her brown eyes are wide with a manic intensity that sends a chill down my spine. But wait... Lindsey? My mind reels as I struggle to reconcile her presence with my memories.

“You’re... you’re dead,” I stammer. “I killed you. This can’t be real.”

A hysterical laugh bubbles up from my throat as realization dawns. “Oh, this is a dream. Of course, it’s a dream.”

Lindsey’s lips curl into a sneer, her delicate features twisting into something almost inhuman. She’s wearing a sharp, well-tailored black suit with a bright red tie that seems to writhe and undulate in the flickering firelight.

“That suit really doesn’t look good on you,” I find myself saying, the absurdity of the situation making me oddly bold.

To my surprise, Lindsey throws her head back and laughs, the sound echoing unnaturally over the roar of the flames. “Oh, Jason,” she says, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “I didn’t wear it to look good for you.”

I frown, a strange sense of indignation rising in my chest. “But it’s my dream,” I protest, gesturing vaguely at the burning city around us. “Shouldn’t you be dressed how I want you to be?”

Lindsey’s laughter cuts off abruptly, her expression morphing into something cold and cruel. She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. “Oh, you poor, naive little boy,” she whispers, her voice sending shivers down my spine. “What makes you think this is your dream?”

Lindsey snaps her fingers, the sound echoing impossibly loud in the chaos around us. In an instant, the burning cityscape vanishes, replaced by an endless expanse of white. The abrupt shift is disorienting, leaving me reeling as I try to make sense of our new surroundings, or lack thereof. There are no walls, no ceiling, no floor that I can discern. Just an infinite, featureless white void stretching in all directions.

I blink rapidly, my eyes struggling to focus on the stark emptiness. “What... what is this place?” I ask, my voice sounding small and muffled in the vast nothingness. “If this isn’t my dream, then what is it?” I ask, my voice sounding strangely muffled in the featureless space.

Lindsey’s lips curl into an enigmatic smile, her eyes glinting with secret knowledge. “It’s something else,” she purrs but offers no further explanation.

Frustrated and confused, I close my eyes and concentrate, willing something, anything, to appear in my hand. I picture a bright red apple, focusing on every detail: the smoothness. I open my eyes expectantly, but my hand remains empty.

“What a shitty lucid dream?” I mutter, staring at my palm in disbelief.

Suddenly, without any visible movement or transition, Lindsey is sitting in an enormous, plush armchair. The chair seems to have materialized out of nowhere, its deep purple velvet a stark contrast to the endless white. It’s ornately carved, with gilded accents that catch non-existent light, creating shimmering patterns that hurt my eyes if I look at them too long.

Lindsey gestures languidly behind me, her movement graceful and fluid. “Why don’t you have a seat, Jason?” she says.

I turn around, half-expecting to see nothing but more endless white. Instead, I find myself face-to-face with an impossibly ornate chair that seems to have materialized out of thin air. The chair looms over me, its high back stretching upwards until it disappears into the infinite whiteness above.

As I stare, the chair seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy. The velvet ripples like water, and the gold accents shimmer and dance, creating mesmerizing patterns that draw my gaze. Before I can react, tendrils of velvet shoot out from the chair, wrapping around my wrists and ankles. They pull me forward with surprising strength, and I find myself falling backward into the plush embrace of the seat.

The velvet tendrils recede, leaving me firmly ensconced in the chair. It’s impossibly comfortable, molding to my body in a way that defies physics. I sink deeper into the cushions, feeling as though I’m being swallowed whole by this bizarre piece of furniture.

I let out a long-suffering sigh. “Great. Looks like Lindsey’s controlling me from beyond the grave. How delightful.”

Lindsey rolls her eyes, looking almost offended by my sarcasm. “Oh, please,” she scoffs. “I’m obviously not the real Lindsey.”

I raise an eyebrow, my patience wearing thin. “Then who are you?” I ask, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

A Cheshire cat grin spreads across Lindsey’s face, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Who do you think I am?” she purrs, clearly relishing this little guessing game.

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “If I had to guess, you’re probably the... thing... that brought me to the reverse world?”

Lindsey frowns, her brow furrowing in disappointment. “Well, that was far too easy,” she says dismissively, waving a hand through the air. “I should have made it more challenging for you.”

The white void around us seems to pulse and shimmer, responding to her irritation. Ripples of iridescent color dance across the blank canvas of our surroundings, like oil on water, before fading back to pristine white.

I shrug, sinking deeper into the chair. “Alright, what do you want?” I ask, my voice tinged with resignation.

Lindsey’s frown deepens, her previously threatening demeanor suddenly crumbling. She looks almost lost, confusion evident in her brown eyes. “Don’t you... don’t you have questions for me?” she asks, her voice small and uncertain.

The change in her demeanor is jarring. The being before me now seems nothing like the confident, omniscient entity that had been toying with me moments ago. The stark white void around us seems to dim slightly as if reflecting her sudden vulnerability.

I sigh. “Not really,” I admit, feeling a twinge of guilt at her crestfallen expression.

Lindsey’s face contorts in frustration, her neon blue hair seeming to bristle with static electricity. “Are you being lazy on purpose?” she demands, a hint of her earlier sharpness returning to her voice.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. When I open them again, I meet Lindsey’s gaze squarely. “It’s hard to focus when, in the real world, I’m being held hostage by Tessa,” I explain, my voice heavy with the weight of my current reality.

Lindsey frowns again, her brow furrowing in contemplation. “That’s fair,” she says, her voice softening with a hint of understanding.

I take a deep breath, trying to push aside thoughts of my current predicament. The endless white void around us seems to pulse gently as if encouraging me to engage. I decide to play ball with her if only to distract myself from the reality waiting for me when I wake up.

“Alright,” I say, leaning forward in the impossibly comfortable chair. “Let’s start with something big. Was Jesus real?”

Lindsey scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. The gesture is so human, so at odds with the otherworldly being she claims to be, that it’s almost comical. “How should I know?” she says, annoyance clear in her voice. “I wasn’t exactly keeping tabs on you all back then.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. “Oh? So when did you start watching us?”

Lindsey shifts in her chair, suddenly looking uncomfortable. The white void around us flickers, brief flashes of color dancing across the emptiness before fading away. “That’s not... I meant if you had any questions about your new life in your new world,” she says, her words coming out in a rush.

I sigh, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. The chair beneath me seems to respond, the velvet rippling soothingly against my skin. “Fine,” I say, my voice tight with barely contained irritation. “Why did you switch me with the other Jason?”

Lindsey’s form seems to shimmer and shift, her features becoming momentarily fluid before settling back into their familiar configuration. An enigmatic smile plays across her lips as she leans forward, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light.

“Oh, Jason,” she purrs, her voice taking on an ethereal quality that seems to resonate through the endless white void surrounding us. “I had my reasons.”

I fix Lindsey with an annoyed glare, unimpressed by her cryptic words.

She sees my expression and sighs dramatically, the sound echoing strangely in the featureless space. “Okay, okay,” she concedes, rolling her eyes. “If you must know, I switched you because the other Jason looked so sad, and you... well, you looked well-equipped for this world.”

I raise an eyebrow, skepticism etched across my features. “Well-equipped?” I repeat, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that what you call it? Because from where I’m sitting, it feels a lot like I’ve just been thrown to the wolves when I’m not with Erica.”

A flicker of something passes across Lindsey’s face before it’s quickly masked by her usual smirk. “Don’t be so dramatic,” she chides, but there’s a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

I lean forward in my chair, my eyes narrowing. “Tell me something,” I say, my voice low and intense. “The other Jason... was he raped as much as I was?”

Lindsey’s smirk falters, her eyes widening slightly. For a moment, she looks genuinely taken aback. “No,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “No, the other Jason was never raped.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air between us. I feel a surge of emotions, anger, betrayal, a bitter sort of vindication, coursing through me. “So, you were watching him and not me?”

Lindsey’s expression shifts, her eyes taking on a faraway look. The white void around us seems to ripple and shimmer, responding to her change in mood. Suddenly, the space is filled with countless shimmering threads of light, each one pulsing with a different rhythm and hue. It’s as if we’re suspended in the heart of a vast, living tapestry.

“I watch a lot of people, Jason,” Lindsey says, her voice echoing strangely in the transformed space. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against one of the glowing threads. As she touches it, an image flickers to life. A giant truck flies over ten stories in the air and crashes into an apartment building. “It’s something to kill the time, you know? Eternity can get... tedious.”

‘What the fuck was that!?’

The threads of light dance and swirl around us, each one containing glimpses of different lives and different worlds. I see flashes of joy, sorrow, triumph, and despair from countless individuals across what I assume are multiple realities.

“I liked watching the other Jason,” Lindsey continues, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. She gestures, and one particular thread grows brighter than the rest. In it, I see a face that’s eerily similar to my own, but the eyes are dull, lifeless. “But he was just so sad living in that world. It was... painful to watch.”

The image shifts, and suddenly, I’m looking at myself – or rather, the version of me from before the switch. I’m laughing with Justin, my eyes bright with life and mischief. “So I checked in on you,” Lindsey says, a small smile playing on her lips. “And I decided you’d probably be a good fit for the other world.”

I watch as the two threads, mine and the other Jason’s, begin to intertwine, pulsing with an intense, almost blinding light. “I thought you’d do the typical reverse world thing,” Lindsey explains, her eyes fixed on the merging threads. “You know, go for a harem, live out some power fantasy.”

“Like Louis,” I say.

Lindsey snaps her fingers, pointing at me with a grin that’s equal parts delighted and mischievous. “Exactly like Louis!” she exclaims. The void around us pulses with her enthusiasm.

Lindsey snaps her fingers, and in an instant, the shimmering threads of light vanish. The void around us contracts, colors and images swirling together like water down a drain until we’re once again surrounded by endless, pristine white. The abrupt transition leaves me feeling slightly dizzy as if the floor beneath my feet has suddenly shifted.

“But you were hell-bent on being with one girl,” Lindsey says, her voice echoing in the featureless expanse.

At the mention of Erica, I feel a warmth bloom in my chest. Despite everything, despite the chaos and danger of this new world, thoughts of her still bring a smile to my face. “I really love her,” I say softly, the words hanging in the air between us.

Lindsey’s expression softens, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I know,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “You and Erica... you’ve become my two favorites to watch, you know.”

Her admission catches me off guard, and I find myself leaning forward in my chair, curiosity piqued. “Really?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

Lindsey nods, her eyes taking on a distant, almost wistful look. “There’s something... captivating about your relationship,” she muses. “The intensity, the devotion... it’s unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

I absorb her words, a mix of emotions swirling within me. Pride, love, and a touch of unease at being observed so closely. But then a thought strikes me, and I can’t help but voice it.

“If you liked the old Jason so much,” I begin, my brow furrowing, “why did you take his girlfriend and bring her here?”

Lindsey’s face flushes a deep crimson, the color spreading from her cheeks down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her suit. She fidgets in her ornate chair, suddenly unable to meet my gaze. The endless white void around us begins to shift and ripple as if responding to her discomfort.

“I... I wanted to see what Erica would do,” Lindsey finally admits. The words seem to hang in the air, each syllable materializing as glowing, translucent bubbles that float lazily around her head before popping in tiny bursts of iridescent mist.

I lean back in my chair, feeling suddenly very small and very tired. “That means Riley’s death is on your hands,” I say softly, my words causing ripples in the cosmic void beneath us.

Lindsey nods slowly, her eyes downcast. “Yeah,” she murmurs, “that one was definitely on me.”

I sit surprised by her so willing to take the blame for that one.

“Do you control the women?” I ask, my words careful and measured. “Make them go after me?”

Lindsey looks up, her eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I see something ancient and unknowable in their depths, like staring into the heart of a dying star.

“I can only move people,” she explains, her voice taking on an otherworldly resonance that seems to vibrate through the very fabric of reality. “Not take away their agency.”

Suddenly, Lindsey’s expression shifts to annoyance. Her brow furrows, and she lets out an exasperated sigh that seems to reverberate through the entire cosmos.

“Shit, it’s time for you to wake up,” she grumbles, snapping her fingers shattering the space around us.

Lindsey sighs again, her shoulders slumping. “Maybe we can talk again some other time,” she says, her voice tinged with disappointment.

“But I barely learned anything,” I protest, feeling a surge of frustration as the universe around us continues to dissolve.

Lindsey laughs, the sound echoing through the rapidly darkening void. “Come back with better questions next time,” she says with a smirk.

And just like that, everything goes pitch black.

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