He felt the hand on shoulder that was cold, boney, and familiar. However, he didn't feel the pressure that claimed him with it. He didn't feel the torment and fear that packed its punch with one single touch.
Toby was numb to its presence. Toby stared at (Y/n) who obviously seen it and made a dash, she kept calling out to him. He stared as she called out to him to run. Run with her. She had yet to understand.
Understand that running makes it worse. Understand that resistance would make it worse.
He should run with her.
He wanted to, but he was gone. He couldn't run.
It was like a dream, an disturbing, unbearable dream. Yet, what was he to choose? He chose enough. He chose someone to be his companion, despite her reluctance. He chose who she would of killed, even if his companion wasn't under his control, but its. At least, she listened under her closed-minded state of who to get rid of. That friend of her was getting in the way.
Thud!
Toby's foot slipped and he fell to his side at the loss of balance. He made rough contact to the solid cement that was littered with cracks here and there. Grunting, he pulled his weight into a sitting position. It hadn't effect at all, the fall, it just added something else to do, which obviously was to get up.
He gradually got to his feet, adjusting his belt that held both hatchets. He hadn't bother to look at his surroundings. It wasn't familiar to him and nothing made him want to familiarize it.
Leaning against a brick wall that felt as if it would collapse any second, he closed his eyes. Why was he here?
The question he asked for about the millionth time now. It'd take him, drop him off somewhere and he would be clueless as to what his purpose was.
Opening his eyes, he finally decided to have a glance about the place. He was in a old, dusty room with windows bordered up and the sunlight peering through a hole in the roof that presented a painting of dark grey clouds. He sighed. He wished he had ran with her. But it would be worse for them both.
Grimacing, he thought of what he must've done with (Y/n). Surely nothing good. Who knows? Maybe she was in a paradise with no worries, or maybe she was at a home. Maybe she was to be found dead somewhere. With a sharp breath, he tried to execute the thoughts; however, they resisted and got more and more atrocious.
He had already caused her enough pain. He just hoped that it didn't cause her any. The little hope sustaining that thought decayed and he knew it was hopeless.
Twitching his neck, along with his shoulder, he quickly took the hatchet and slammed it against the bordered windows, causing one wooden plank to snap. It was just an act out of anger. Anger of it.
He was tired of being controlled. His thoughts so vivid, so hopeless. Why had it chose him? Why had it chose him at his terrible state? In a jerk, he flung the hatchet across the room which hit the brick wall and came down in a clank. He slid down against the wall, scrunching his face in anger as he tried to clear his mind; clearly, it failed miserably. All the familiar faces came back. The images of his mom mourning. The images when he had first saw it outside his bedroom window.
"Hey!" It was such a familiar voice. He was bringing something to the car in the morning, flimsily holding onto several bags. Earlier his mother had suggested to take a few at a time, but he wanted to do only one trip instead of several to the car. As he turned away from the vehicle to go back inside, he heard that voice, "Hey!" Toby looked to see a young girl she was jogging on the sidewalk to someone he hadn't notice to be walking by. This someone was another girl, more girly and upright than the young one with blonde hair and an innocent smile. "Hey, Dad asked if you'd want to go with us? To bowling, remember?" He remembered her saying that as clear as day. She had a loud voice full of confidence.
And that was (Y/n), however she looked like any other person walking to school. She was nothing special. But she had life, she gleamed with happiness and bliss.
He had taken away the happiness and bliss. It had taken it away. This was why he hated all these memories- there was no escape from them. He would remember and they would bite.
As he began to bite his hand out of habit, he heard distant sirens. Then screeching of rubber. He stopped. There was a pause, as if the action of these sounds were incomplete.
Clicking his tongue, then there was gunfire. Then silence as a rumble went throughout the skies.
(Beep! Gonna publish next one quickly, feeling really inspired right now~)
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Under Control (Ticci Toby X Reader)
Fanfiction(May contain sensitive topics) Things never went as plan as (Y/n) hoped. Her family had dissipated, leaving her with her solemn aunt. There, she was alone and liked it that way. When she had developed bad habits of drinking, she was falling into her...
