Drapetomania | Creepypasta

14.

I gazed up at Masky, my emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. His words had taken me by surprise, and I was momentarily lost in a mix of gratitude and disbelief.

"Well, you just going to sit and stare? The bag's for you," he urged me with an air of impatience, gesturing to the bag I had dragged over.

With cautious anticipation, I slowly opened the bag. My fingers brushed against something soft, and as I pulled it out, my eyes widened in disbelief. It was a pillow-a simple, ordinary pillow.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I clutched the pillow to my chest. It was a small, seemingly insignificant gesture, but in the context of my captivity, it felt like an oasis of comfort and humanity.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. The pillow was a tangible reminder that amidst the darkness of my confinement, there was still a glimmer of compassion, a connection to someone who saw me as more than just a captive.

Masky's masked visage betrayed no emotion, but there was a subtle softening in his posture, as though he understood the significance of this simple gift. The pillow might not change my circumstances, but it was a symbol of hope-a reminder that even in the bleakest of situations, small acts of kindness could make a world of difference.

Masky's frustration was evident as he rummaged through the bag, searching for the missing item. His grumbling and exasperation added a layer of authenticity to the situation, as though he, too, was navigating the challenges of my captivity.

"There should be a blanket in there too, did that fucker not pack it," he muttered to himself, finally retrieving a small blanket from the bag. It was true that the blanket appeared rather modest and wouldn't provide much coverage, but in the dimly lit cellar, it held the promise of warmth and comfort.

I extended my hand to accept the blanket, grateful for yet another gesture of kindness in this strange and unsettling environment. "Thank you," I said softly, draping the blanket over my lap. The simple act of unfolding the fabric and wrapping it around myself brought a sense of security and a fleeting moment of respite from the harsh reality of my captivity.

Masky's suggestion of hoodies intrigued me. It was a practical idea to help improve my comfort in this confined space. "Hoodies? That sounds like a good idea," I replied, the thought of having something warm and familiar to wear in this dimly lit cellar offering a small sense of reassurance.

he chuckled, a genuine laugh "no stupid, hoodie. my accomplice"
i was embarrassed, my face went red as i just muttered to myself some random nonsense.

As he reached into his bag once more and retrieved another tub of pasta, my stomach grumbled in response. The prospect of another meal was welcome, given the limited sustenance available to me in this captivity.

"i'll see about you getting uh...cleaned..." he said quietly as he assesses my state.
His mention of getting cleaned was a reminder of the grueling conditions I had endured. I nodded in agreement, acknowledging the necessity of such a task. My clothes were indeed in a sorry state, clinging uncomfortably to my body, and the lack of proper hygiene had taken its toll.

"I appreciate it," I murmured, unable to hide the gratitude in my voice. In this peculiar situation, Masky had become an enigmatic figure, providing for my basic needs in a manner that was both unsettling and oddly caring.

Masky watched as I set up my makeshift bed in the corner of the dimly lit room, using the materials he had provided. The small comforts-a pillow and a blanket-made a significant difference in the otherwise bleak environment.

"Masky," I spoke softly, shifting my gaze to the enigmatic man in the mask. "If obtaining these supplies was possible, why do you think Ben didn't do it?"

At my question, he paused for a moment, his masked visage betraying no emotion. "Ben had his reasons," he finally replied cryptically. "Perhaps he didn't have the same resources I do, or maybe he chose not to for a specific purpose. It's hard to say."

His response left me with more questions than answers, a recurring theme in this cryptic, unsettling world I had been thrust into. The mystery surrounding Ben's actions and his sudden disappearance weighed heavily on my mind, and Masky's vague explanation only added to my growing sense of unease.

"Is it true that they're after me?" I asked in a hushed tone as I took a seat on the blanket.

Masky hesitated for a moment, his mask lifted just below his nose as he began to eat from his tub of food. "It's... it's a complicated situation, Y/n," he replied evasively, leaving me with more questions than answers.

I studied the obscured face of the man who sat before me, his mask concealing his identity. The question that had been gnawing at my mind for so long finally escaped my lips. "Do you think I'll ever get out of here...?"

Masky's eyes met mine from behind that eerie white mask, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something I couldn't quite place-perhaps a hint of empathy or understanding. "I can't promise anything, Y/n," he replied with a sigh, his voice laden with the weight of uncertainty. "you're not mine to command...i can't call any shots here"

Masky returned to his meal, the room enveloped in a heavy silence. It was in these moments of solitude and sporadic interaction that I found myself reflecting on the twisted turn my life had taken. Trapped in a dimly lit room, my only companions were the masked man before me and the ever-present shadow of uncertainty.

As I settled onto my makeshift bed, I couldn't help but wonder about the strange connection that had formed between us. Masky had provided me with some comfort, and I couldn't deny that I felt a strange sense of gratitude toward him, even as I remained wary of his intentions.

"what if i don't want ben to come back...is that bad to say"

A palpable silence settled between us, a weighty reminder of the unspoken truths that lingered in the air. Masky's avoidance of my question left me with a sense of unease, and I shifted on my makeshift bed, turning away from him to face the cold, stone wall.

His voice, when it finally broke the silence, was soft, carrying a somber tone that resonated with the complexities of our situation. "Just remember to keep your guard up, Y/n," he cautioned, his words hanging in the air like an ominous warning. I could hear the faint but deliberate sound of his boots against the floor, indicating that he had risen from his spot. "At the end of the day, he's the reason you're here. But that's not my place to tell you."