The most vile thoughts weasel themselves into Toby's skull. His head feels like a crowded room, filled to the brim with meaningless clutter. In Toby's room of the mind, the wall paper is torn to shreds, peeling away from the foundation to reveal gruesome commands underneath on the dry wall.
Y/N.
Whispers and static whirle around in his ears for 3 hours straight as he lays in the darkness, praying for some peace for just a moment.
He drifted off about an hour ago but his relaxation was brief. He was having nightmares of a man brutally beating him. He looked like Toby, just older. It's always the same; so much blood and the screams of two women in the background. He never sees their faces.
Toby hates this reoccurring dream more than anything. His hatred for this man comes naturally to him, whoever he is. It's automatic.
The clock on the wall ahead of him reads about 1AM, or so he thinks as he strains his eyes through the darkness. He wonders about Y/N as he gets up from bed, sliding some slippers on and heading down the stairs.
He hasn't paid her a visit in over 3 days, too disgusted to even lay his eyes on her. He can't explain the sensation he felt when he saw her in that house with the tall man in a white hoodie. He never saw his face but his distaste for this guy is passionate and kindles like a wildfire. From his 'research', he's concluded that Y/N is a recovered addict. Apparently he was wrong.
He enters the kitchen and flicks on the light, stumbling over to the fridge. Nothing. Dumb, dumber and dumbest haven't bought any groceries in the last little while. Toby hates buying food, he never does it. Toby doesn't contribute to the shopping but he does a hell of a lot of other duties between the three. On the fridge shelves are a jar of pickles, a bottle of Soy Sauce and some rotting lettuce. I can't make anything with this shit, Toby muses. He'll just stay hungry. His eyes catch a glimpse of glistening glass and looks beside the refrigerator, a sealed bottle of bourbon.
Why is that even here, he wonders as he picks it up and retrieves a glass, dropping in some ice cubes before pouring himself some. He flicks on the miniature TV that's stationed on the kitchen counter before sitting down with his glass half empty already. The TV is background noise compared to the voices in his head.
A door slams in the foyer of the cabin and Tim and Brian waltz in. They were uncovering more information about their up and coming murder. None of them say anything and the two oldest head upstairs to bed.
An hour later, Tim creeps down the rickety wooden steps and enters the kitchen, wanting a drink. He spots Toby cradling a bottle of booze, his neglected glass resting on the corner of the table. His eyes are partly open, humming to himself with a drunken smile.
Tim pulls out their package of bottled water, taking one out for himself and setting one down next to Toby's arm. He does little acts of service like this to show he cares, often as a way to settle things between them after arguments.
"You were right, Tim." Toby mutters, glancing up at his elder. "She's worthless."
"Y/N?" He asks, approaching the tipsy fool. Toby hums.
"She's just some drug addict with a bad taste in men." Toby hiccups, offering his bottle to the other man, only to pull it away with a laugh. It's empty.
After Jeff left that night, Y/N started cooking a late night meal. She left the cocaine in the little bag in her pocket. She told herself she'd throw it away later. Later never came. She got herself ready to finally sleep, only to toss and turn restlessly for hours. Toby could see the gears turning in her mind; she's pondering the possible outcomes if she were to do a line. Just one. She's survived 2 overdoses, she knew she'd be fine. She wasn't worried about accidentally dying but relapsing long term. She caved and Toby watched her succumb to the pathetic addict that has been suppressed within her.
"What can I say, Toby? When I'm right, I'm right." Tim looks smug as if he cracked the code on something impossible. Toby already saw this little experiment going down hill before all this but shit hit the fan quicker than he expected. He just wanted to know who she was, not become emotionally invested. And he hasn't. He kept his distance and he's okay?
"I didn't see the guy who she was with but he seemed tall and skinny. Probably some junkie just like her. He gave her the drugs."
"Lowlifes. . . Don't get too bent out of shape over this broad, she was distracting you from your real purpose."
Toby agrees, sentence slurring slightly, "Maybe I need to redeem myself a little. . . and prove nothing will take my attention away from our master's demands ever again."
He smirks as he broods silently to himself. Y/N has brought him more trouble than she's worth, he realizes. She stole his time, his sense of priority, his clarity and all for what? She needs to pay. She needs to be finally taken out of commission so Y/N will stop being the only thing that occupies his mind.
The voices finally cease before the host speaks to him, "KILL HER."
Tim pats his shoulder in full support. Toby becomes robotic, like he's on auto pilot as he rises from his seat and goes to get himself ready for murder.
A/N: this story is a mess Idek where I'm going with this, don't expect anything good :/
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𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭
Horror"I told you the night you tried to kill me; he's not your God." Sequel to An Eye For An Eye. Years after The Subordinate is closed, Y/N attempts to rebuild her life and recover from her short-lived romance with Toby. He's a changed man since becom...
