Five Ticks 'Til I'm Yours (Dark Ticci Toby x Reader)

18

Why did he hate you so much?

Your hands tightened around the table, your knuckles whitening in anxiety. This was probably going to be the worst way to die. You tried to come up with a plan, watching dreadfully as Tim glanced left then right, as if assessing the room, as if making sure this was where he wanted to kill you. Finally, he turned back to you, the only light in the house was that of the living rooms, and the way it fed into the kitchen and illuminated the killers figure only made him more intimidating. He took a slow step forward and you froze, your instincts on their edge. Should you fight? Should you give up and pray for a quick death? Should you try to talk? Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

"I don't und-

"Must've been good," he cut you off quickly, his tall, rather threatening frame trapped you against the table. His eyes however were raking down your body in an uncomforting manner, the dress you wore suddenly felt too tight. The knife was suddenly at your thigh, and you mumbled a helpless "don't" as it trailed up your leg, stopping at your most private part. All sense of fight and scheming died the moment you felt the coldness of the blade so close to such a sensitive area. The image of him tearing right into you right there was traumatizing and what made it worse was that he would actually do it. "The sex I mean," he continued, and you remained deadly still as he pushed the blade up a bit further, the fabric of the dress too sheer to protect you. You could now feel the blade against your underwear. "Why else would he keep you?"

"We never..." you spoke slowly, whispering, as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, however you were unable to finish the sentence, your mind trailing off. Luckily you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when he moved the knife away, trailing it up your hip before his free hand dug into the flesh there, turning you around forcefully before his knife hand returned to your hair, pushing your head down into the table. You suddenly lost it, beginning to thrash again, screaming terrible things at him, insisting he let you go at once.

It didn't matter though, he didn't care. His hips kept you trapped against the table, pressing into you rather uncomfortably, but this was different, you had a feeling his intentions were not sexual. No, he hated you far too much for that. Instead you felt him grab your wrists, stretching your arms out on the table in front of your head. He forced one hand over the other, growling another obscene insult before you felt the blade of the knife tear through both your hands, going through the table in one swift movement.

You screamed a horrible, agonizing scream, the tears flowing down your eyes as you didn't dare move, too afraid you'd make it worse. It hurt, it hurt so much and you didn't understand why. You didn't understand anything. Why was he doing this? Why did he have to torment you like this? Why couldn't he just get it over with? You were trying to be good, you were trying so hard to be obedient, to survive. Why was this happening?

You sobbed heavily, crying out in pain, making the mistake of squirming too much only to realize your hands were stuck, and the more you moved, the more the blade dug into the sides of your flesh. So, you stayed still, crying, trying to wrap your head around it, trying to keep the pain at bay.

Was he chuckling? Oh God how you hated him. His body suddenly disappeared from behind you, and you heard movement, a drawer opened, utensils shifted, he returned a moment later. He was now behind you again, you could feel the malice in his eyes as he gazed down at you, his finger running along your back.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, aggressive as always, but there was a hint of relief in his tone, a hint of enjoyment.

You didn't respond, trying to muffle your sobs against the table.

"Answer me," he ordered, his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pushing them back and forth in a massage like rhythm. However, with each movement your hands were forced to move, the blade tearing an even larger hole.