~^ Crimson Heart ^~ Bob Velseb X Reader

~^ Psychological Torment ^~

{+Chapter 4, Psychological Torment (TW FOR GORE AND STOCKHOLM)+}

10:00 P.M.

Stockholm Syndrome

Noun

A psychological bond hostages develop with their captors.

You lay down on the mattress. There was a thin blanket, hanging over on the bed frame. You grab it, and bring the blanket upwards, and cover your legs up. Well why the hell not, this may be the last time you'll ever see a blanket again. You stare at the ceiling. You felt like you were being stared at, but once you looked in that direction, there was no one there. You hear the door lock click, and you see Bob walk in. He had blood all over him. His white shirt was splattered with crimson, along with his pale white face. His expression never changed. He always smiled. If not, he would smile more. He sat on the edge of the bed. Something horrifying was that you could see him twitch, and when he did, his pupils dilated with a cyan color. His hair was messy, hung over in his face. He had a cleaver in one hand. He saw you eyeing it. "Want to feel?" He said, holding the clever over to your hand. You shook your head. His voice sounded strangely genuine. He didn't sound threatening for a second. "Wait.." you say, as you squint your eyes looking at Bob. He looked confused. "Didn't you work at that Boys and Grills place?" You ask curiously. His posture straightened. He hummed, agreeing to what you were saying. "Why?" He asked, tilting his head. "Just curious. You looked familiar." You say, putting your hand on your head as you glance at Bob's features. Bob's eyebrows raised. His eyelids lowered. The corners of his mouth raised into a bigger smile. "Still work there. It's just ma' part time job now." He said, looking in a different direction. Part time job, as in cooking, and killing. It was him. It was Bobby. "What days do you work?" You ask. You were picking him apart. "Week days. I'm off Monday, considering it's Halloween that day." He says, rubbing the back of his neck. "So that's why you kill on Halloween, is it not?" You ask, sitting up. "That, and it's so easy to find victims. They are everywhere, and not many people suspect me on Halloween because you wear costumes on Halloween. It's not unusual to see a red devil roaming around the streets on that day." He replies. He leaned back onto the wall. He wiped a bit of blood off of his face. "Is this what you do to all of your victims?" You say after a few moments. "Not exactly. I just thought I'd try something a bit different with you. Other ones I just get it over with since considering I'm always in a rush." He says, making a slicing motion with his hands. You stared off into the blocked off window. He looked over at you. You suddenly feel a weight come closer to you. You quickly turn your head, and see him sitting right next to you. "What the hell your sitting with a cannibal right now." You thought to yourself. You leaned your head against the wall, and felt tears form. You start crying with a blank look on your face. Your unblinking eyes look at the door in front of you. "Why are you here." You ask him in a shaky voice, choking up on your own tears. "Figuring out what I'm gonna do with you." He says, leaning forwards over the bed, slumping over so he looked at the cold hard ground. He looks at you. He reached over in his belt. You look over at him. He pulled out a knife. You felt glad it was a knife, because in your panicky mind, you thought he was unbuckling his pants. You sigh with relief, but come back to realize that he has a knife. You knew that already, you were just thinking about your weird ass thoughts. You back up. Your breath quickens. "I'm not doin' nothin' just yet." He says, laughing. He was testing you, getting to see you scared. You felt your blood turn cold. He rubbed your cheek with his hand (FACE CHEEK YOU DISGUSTING ASSHOLES). You just sat there, staring at him. You didn't want to move. You were afraid of what he might do if you moved his hand away. He felt exactly like Bobby. The way he stroked your cheek with his thumb. This might be the last interaction you could ever have with a human being. You suddenly fall into his chest, crying. He didn't do anything. He put his hand on your back. The darkness swallowed the both of you, as his hand dragged along your back. Your body fell limp as you fell deeper into him. Your eyes were shut. You needed someone there for you at that moment. That didn't mean you liked him, you just needed your last human interaction before you died. His twisted chuckle shook you. The smell of blood from his shirt filled your nose. He suddenly got up. He left the room, and closed the door behind him. You wiped your face. You were so tired, because of what you had been through today, and not only that, it was late. You didn't know exactly what time, but judging by outside, it was pretty late. You yawned. You could suddenly hear footsteps walk towards the door. He had a different shirt on , and there was no longer blood on his face. He walked over and sat on the bed. You observed his shirt. You chuckled to yourself. He was wearing a Nirvana shirt. He smelled like cheap cologne. He pulled you closer to him, slightly startling you. Your face buried in his chest. You shut your eyes tightly. Your arms suddenly wrapped around him. His hand held you as you sobbed. This twisted comfort you felt. It made you feel good, only because it was Bobby. His hugs felt exactly like his ones back in the day. He still felt like a father figure to you. This was some psychological torment. Was he just trying to lure you into some sort of security, just to tear it down later on? Potentially. Were you going to fall for it? Probably. You layed on him for the rest of the night, falling asleep in a short matter of time. He stayed there the entire night, just sitting on the bed with you laying on him.