introspective isolation! ;tanner fic;

five

You turned around as fast as you could, a glass shard in hand, pointing it at the mysterious figure in the middle of the attic.

The light bulb behind him prevented you from seeing his face, but his frozen stature made you wonder if he was just as surprised to see you as you were him.

He was huge, dressed in all black, and bald.

"...who are you?" You weren't scared of him; you were just frightened in general.

He took a step forward with one hand in front of him, making his way to where you were in the room.

"S-stay back!" You sounded pathetic; you cringed internally at how weak you sounded.

The man, although questioning why you were tied up and bleeding, treaded towards you with gentle steps like he was approaching a wounded deer in the forest.

Movement behind him averted your attention, and you swallowed at the sight of Tanner inching up the stairs silently. His expression wasn't short of utter malice, and his grip on his knife was so strong you could see the whites of his knuckles. He raised the knife, ready to stab the newcomer in the back.

"Behind you!"

The man turned just in time, catching Tanner by the wrist and forcing him against the railing of the stairs. He threw a punch and Tanner dodged, squeezing out from the space and slashing at the man, which the man narrowly avoided.

As the two fought, you shook yourself out of the daze of watching and started cutting through the ropes of your knees. The edges of the glass began to slice the joints of your fingers, but the pain was lost under the amount of adrenaline that was rushing through your veins.

With your legs free, you moved on to your wrists, but the thickness of the shard made it impossible to squeeze it between the ropes.

You gave up on the shard and turned your attention to the stairs instead. With your head low, you tried your best to stay unnoticed by the other two. The clattering of Tanner's knife caused you to freeze as it spun its way to your feet.

When you looked down, you could barely see your own reflection through the streaks of your own blood. A loud thud, grunts, hisses, the bald man was on top of Tanner and his gloved hands were wrapped around your acquaintance's throat, trying his best to squeeze the life out of him.

"(Y/n)..." you heard him say, "the knife."

You picked it up, your sight shifting between the object and his shiny, gritted, teeth.

Tanner had one hand gripped around the bald man's wrist and the other outstretched towards you, beckoning you to pass him the weapon. His eyes shifted to look at you.

You looked down, sticking the knife between the space between your wrists, and cut the inside of your arm in the process. You brought the sharpness against your restraints and quickly got them undone, taking a glance at Tanner's shocked expression and abandoning him there, knife in hand.

You almost tripped down the stairs to the second floor but caught steady when you grabbed onto the railing, dropping the knife in the process. Your head was spinning, but you knew you had to push yourself further if you were going to make it out of this situation alive.

Your bedroom door was open, but the light was off. You couldn't remember where you left your cell phone at all, and figured your luck lied with the home phone downstairs. From the steps, you could see that only the kitchen light was on, the lights oddly dim and weak.

The sounds of the two men upstairs never ceases, and just as you made it to the bottom of the stairs, you heard someone fall down the stairs to the attic.

You moved faster, limping your way to the cold pink phone next to your living room couch, and dialed 9-1-1 without hesitation.

They were fighting in the hallway now, and you started to silently cry at the ringing in your ear.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

"9-1-1 what's your emergency?"

"there's two men in my house. They're fighting... I'm, I've been drugged-I'm bleeding-I"

"Calm down, ma'am. Can you repeat what you said again clearly?" The operator was apathetic and cold.

"There's two guys in my house... I'm drugged-One of them-"

"What's your address," the operator interrupted. You shrieked in frustration.

"I- I live at 241 Newbury"

"Street? Avenue? Lane?-"

"STREET FOR GOD'S SAKE THERE'S ONLY ONE NEWBURY"

"there's no need to be rude ma'am."

Your hands shook in anger, and before you could properly react, the operator spoke again.

"A patrol car is already on their way and paramedics will be there shortly."

The sounds from upstairs stopped. You put the phone next to the receiver and looked in the direction of the staircase, questioning who would appear from them.

"Ma'am? Please stay on the line."

Your heart rate began to decline and your head started to feel clouded again. Was it from the bloodless? Or another wave of disabling side effects? With your luck, it was probably both.

There were steps, quiet steps, making their way down to the ground floor.

"Ma'am?"

You quickly hung up.

"I already called the police." You said aloud, waiting to see whose shoes would come into view.

The steps stopped.

"You're done."

You heard sirens in the distance drawing closer and closer to your childhood home.

The person wouldn't reveal themselves to you, and hid in the darkness.

Flashing lights shone through your curtains as the sound of car doors closed outside.

The figure in the staircase began to back up, ascending up instead of facing you for the last time.

The police only yelled one warning before they broke down your door, the sound causing you to flinch as you clutched the table to keep yourself upright.

"Hey-hey!" One officer rushed forward, catching you before you could fall over. "Check upstairs," the woman said to her partner, propping you up by her shoulder as she carried you outside to the ambulance.

You could see nosey neighbors peeking their heads out from their doors, some even becoming bold enough to approach the other police cars that pulled up. The officer that carried you was talking into your ear and then to the other officers when you were deemed unresponsive.

The rest was a blur.

You were put on to the stretcher while the EMT's spoke over your body, the medics lifting you into the ambulance and closing the double doors behind them as they got to work.

In the distance, a figure watched expressionless as the truck turned the corner, its sirens fading away with them into the haze of the night.

. . .
act one: end.