Let me help you ( Sarah Paulson x fem reader )

Y/N POV:

It had been three days. Three days of feeling like I was constantly being watched. Three days of glancing over my shoulder, checking the locks twice, jumping at every unexpected sound. And three days of Sarah not believing me. I knew she didn't mean to dismiss me. She loved me, and I knew she cared. But every time I brought it up—the way I kept seeing the same man lingering outside, the way I felt eyes on me even inside our home—she just reassured me it was nothing. That I was overthinking. That maybe the stress of everything was getting to me.And now she was back at work, leaving me alone in the house.

I tried to stay busy. I cleaned up a little, played some music, scrolled mindlessly through my phone. But no matter what I did, I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of unease. Then the doorbell rang. My stomach dropped. I stared at the door, frozen in place. It couldn't be Sarah—she was at work. We weren't expecting anyone. Slowly, I stood up, my heart hammering in my chest as I approached the door. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was a package, or a neighbor. But deep down, I knew better. With trembling hands, I reached for the doorknob and cracked the door open just slightly. And then I saw him. The man who had been watching me for days.

Before I could react, he shoved the door open, knocking me backward. I stumbled, falling hard against the floor. A sharp pain shot up my wrist as I caught myself, but I didn't have time to think about it. He stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Panic surged through me. "Get out!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet. He didn't listen. Instead, he stalked forward, eyes dark and unreadable. My breath came in sharp, frantic bursts as I backed away, my mind racing for an escape. Then he spoke, his voice eerily calm. "You remember your ex?, don't you?"

My blood ran cold. I did. I remembered everything. The pain, the fear, the way I had barely escaped him. And now he was in prison, where he belonged. But this man—whoever he was—was here for him. "You ruined his life," he continued, stepping closer. "And now, I'm going to ruin yours." I barely had time to scream before he grabbed me. I fought. I kicked, I clawed, I did everything I could, but he was stronger. He threw me down, his weight crushing me against the floor. My screams were muffled by his hand. Then everything shattered. I don't know how long it lasted. Time blurred into something distant and unrecognizable. He was raping me. It hurted so much, he was going so deep and so hard. I cried and tried to scream bu my voice didnt let me. When it was over, he stood up, fixing his shirt and jeans like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just torn me apart.

I didn't move. I couldn't. He looked down at me, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Tell him I said hi." And then he was gone. The house was a disaster—furniture overturned, drawers ripped open, shattered glass on the floor. But none of it mattered. I forced myself to move, my body aching with every step as I dragged myself to the bedroom. My vision was blurry, my hands shaking as I collapsed onto the bed. Sarah's scent was still on the sheets. But i was SO mad at Sarah, So mad that she left me alone and didnt believe me. I curled up, gripping the sheets as sobs wracked through me. And I waited for her to come home.

A FEW HOURS LATER:

It was almost evening when I heard the door. My heart skipped a beat, but I couldn't bring myself to get up. Every part of me was exhausted, every muscle in my body tense from the chaos that had unfolded. My hands were trembling when I heard the key turning in the lock and the door opening. It was Sarah. She stepped inside, but froze when she saw the wreckage of the house. Furniture overturned, glass scattered across the floor—everything a physical reminder of the nightmare I had just lived through. Her eyes darted across the room, panic rising in her voice as she asked, "What happened? What's going on here?" I heard her hurried footsteps toward the bedroom. They stopped abruptly when she saw me. I lay in bed, half-naked, pale as a ghost, and my body stiff from the lingering shock. The bed was in disarray, my limbs sprawled, as if I couldn't escape the suffocating weight of everything that had happened. "Baby..." she started, her voice trembling. But I didn't want to hear her. Not now. Not after everything. Not after she had left me alone to face this. I saw her trying to move closer, but the sight of her made my blood boil. The anger surged in me like a tidal wave. I couldn't control it anymore. I shot up, my voice harsh and full of fury. "You left me alone!" I shouted, each word dripping with rage. "You left me alone... you left me alone!" My fists clenched, my chest rising and falling with every breath as I glared at her, my body trembling—not from fear anymore, but from the sheer, uncontainable anger I felt toward her. She didn't move, frozen by the outburst, but I couldn't stop myself. I was furious. Furious at her, at everything that had happened. I pushed myself back further into the bed, desperate to get away from her touch, from her pity. I didn't want comfort, I didn't want anything from her. Not anymore.