(5 years later.) *yall I changed the age, they're 14-15*
While some were greeted by the gentle embrace of sunlight and the promise of a new day, your reality remained imprisoned in the monotony of stale eggs and insipid soda, their blandness serving as the sole source of fleeting pleasure. The tasteless nourishment was the only fleeting respite you could cling to amidst the suffocating darkness.
Chains rattled with every movement, a constant reminder of your captivity, while the gnawing emptiness in your stomach offered no incentive to rise from your desolate slumber. Sleep became your only solace, the brief respite from the relentless torment. Yet, amidst the endless abyss of your thoughts, a familiar sound shattered the silence—the grating screech of the door opening, its unsatisfying resonance assaulting your ears.
Another victim had arrived.
With a disturbing calmness, the grabber entered the basement, gently laying another boy on the tattered mattress beside you. The repeated occurrence had etched their names into your memory—Griffin, Billy, Vance, Bruce, and Robin—each one a victim of this sinister man's twisted machinations.
It dawned on you that the newcomers, like you once were, were oblivious to the horrors that awaited them. Unaware of their surroundings, they would eventually muster the courage to escape, only to be lured into the upstairs room, never to return. It was a sickening cycle, a relentless dance of death orchestrated by the grabber. One after another, these boys would awaken in the basement, their hopes clinging to the prospect of rescue, only to unwittingly seal their own fate in their desperate attempts to break free.
He callously deposited the child on the worn mat, his eyes shooting daggers in your direction before retreating into the shadows. In his gaze, you saw fear and a deep-rooted apprehension—an acknowledgement of the truth you represented, the witness to his sins. Anger and disappointment surged within you, fueling your determination as you approached the sleeping boy. Something about his presence stirred a flicker of recognition within your mind, as if a faint memory was clawing its way to the surface.
His countenance, so innocent and unblemished, captivated you. Delicately, your fingers grazed a stray lock of hair, tracing its path down his neck, across his chest, until finally reaching his still hand. A tense anticipation filled the air as you gazed into his closed eyes, half-expecting them to flutter open at any moment. You hesitated, your own fingers poised to touch his, the desire to awaken him overpowering any reservations about invading his slumber. It felt strange to touch someone while they slept, yet the absence of contact with another person for so long had left you longing for the human connection that had been cruelly stripped away. In that moment, your intentions were solely driven by the need to rouse him from his peaceful repose, to bring forth a tangible presence that would breathe life into the desolation that enveloped you.
Gingerly, you began prying his fingers open, revealing a rocket ship toy that had been deceptively concealed in his hand. However, upon closer inspection, you realized that it was not a toy but a pen, a peculiar and unexpected discovery. Curiosity compelled you to gently nudge his face with the cold, metallic muzzle encircling your own, quietly mumbling, "Hello?" as you leaned in closer, your hair brushing against his nose.
To your surprise, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing his captivating, puppy-like brown eyes. Time seemed to momentarily freeze as you found yourself lost in their depths, an inexplicable connection forming between you. His warm breath grazed your face, intensifying your awareness of the proximity between you two. Suddenly self-conscious of your eerie presence, you swiftly retreated to your corner, maintaining a safe distance while continuing to observe his alluring features. In that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope ignited within you, its radiance shining briefly before being extinguished by the looming uncertainty that came with an unlocked door and the replacement of this boy.
Suddenly, he jolted upright, his eyes devoid of any emotion, scanning the bleak confines of the basement with a stoic expression etched upon his face. Despite his drugged state, his gaze locked onto you, causing a chill to ripple through your body, as if an icy gust of wind had swept over you. However, this unnerving moment proved fleeting, abruptly shattered by the piercing screech of the metal door, diverting both your attention elsewhere.
The grabber emerged, his imposing figure traversing the concrete floor with purpose, each step punctuated by the squeaking of his weight upon the mat. Intriguingly, he began tracing his finger down his arm, revealing a prominent scar that seemed to bear the remnants of a bloody past. A hushed utterance escaped his lips, "Jesus... it's covered in blood..." The air grew thick with anticipation as you and the boy awaited his next move. Would he erupt in fury, inflicting further harm? But to your surprise, silence prevailed, and no violence ensued, leaving you to ponder the unsettling enigma that was the grabber's intentions.
'its like I killed someone' he whispered psychotically.
His voice reverberated through the room, its haunting presence permeating the air. The boy, still under the influence of the drugs, gazed at the grabber with a dazed expression. The grabber waved his hand in front of the boy's unfocused eyes, a twisted smile forming beneath his menacing mask. "Can't see shit, can ya?" he taunted, relishing in the boy's disoriented state. "I know you're scared," he continued, his words laced with false reassurance, designed to deceive a stranger. "But I won't hurt you anymore," he declared, his promise dripping with insincerity.
He chuckled, a chilling sound that echoed off the walls. "You really did a number on my arm," he admitted, his voice strained. "But I won't hold it against you, hmm?" Leaning closer to the boy, he absentmindedly played with his hair, fixating his gaze on the boy's eyes while completely disregarding your presence. "Now we're even," he whispered, a sinister intensity radiating from his voice. "You don't have to be scared," he grumbled, his tone attempting to convey a sense of safety. "Because nothing bad is going to happen here." Raising two fingers, he solemnly declared, "And that, I give my word, Johnny."
Once again, an eerie silence descended upon the room, leaving an unsettling void that hinted at the secrets and dangers lurking in the shadows.
In an eerie display, the grabber poked the boy's chest, causing his limp body to sway ever so slightly. A peculiar question escaped his lips, "You like soda?" It felt incongruous amidst the gravity of the situation. Without waiting for a response, he continued, "I'll tell ya what... I'm gonna get ya a soda." His hand rested upon the boy's shoulder, exerting a gentle squeeze. "And then..." he trailed off, his words interrupted by an unexpected sound.
A faint ringing pierced the stagnant air, originating from beyond the steel door. The grabber's head snapped in the direction of the noise, a flicker of surprise illuminating his face. "Is that the phone?" he questioned, bewildered by the unexpected interruption. His gaze fixed upon you, as if searching for confirmation. "Do you hear a phone ringing?" he muttered softly, leaving you both pondering the enigmatic presence of an outside world intruding upon your confined reality.
"I'm gonna go see who it is," the man whispered, his voice unnaturally higher than usual, as he leaned in closer to Finn. "Then I'll get you a soda, and then I'll come back to you and Y/n." His words dripped with a strange mix of false reassurance and unsettling tenderness, his dusty fingers tracing delicate paths across Finn's face, contrasting the grime with the boy's smooth skin.
With a deep breath that quivered into a whimper, he finally mustered the courage to approach the cold, unforgiving steel door. Yet, before he could venture out, he paused, fixating his gaze upon both of you. The weight of his intense stare bore into your very being, an invasive sensation that made your skin crawl. The discomfort was palpable, as if his penetrating gaze had the power to unearth your deepest fears and secrets, leaving you unsettled and on edge in his presence.
A chilling shift in the grabber's tone resonated through the room, his voice laced with a newfound seriousness. "By the way, letting Y/n off the chains wouldn't be good for either you or me," he warned, his words carrying an ominous weight. "She'll kill you," he added with a disturbing giggle before abruptly slamming the door shut. Though his claim was unfounded, the truth seemed futile to you, and you had resigned yourself to the grim reality of your situation.
The boy, filled with a mix of determination and trepidation, gingerly rose from the floor, his breath quickening as he took hesitant steps towards the door, desperately attempting to open it. A groan escaped his lips when he realized it was locked tightly, the possibility of escape slipping further away. Slowly releasing his grip on the doorknob, he turned to face you, his fingers tightly clenched around the rocket-ship shaped pencil, his resolve growing stronger amidst the overwhelming darkness that enveloped your existence.
The boy ventured into the ominous darkness, his determined steps leading him further away. Curiosity gnawed at you, urging you to follow his path, but apprehension held you back. As you glanced at the chains restraining your wrists, a pang of empathy washed over you, understanding the fear that gripped both the boy and yourself. Resolute, you decided to join him, stepping cautiously through the obscure abyss.
Within the dimly lit space, you struggled to discern your surroundings until the boy emerged unexpectedly, his presence nearly colliding with yours. Time seemed to freeze as an unspoken connection formed between your gazes, a flicker of warmth contrasting the chilling atmosphere. But alas, the fleeting moment dissipated, leaving uncertainty in its wake. Breaking the lingering silence, the boy finally spoke, his voice a mere whisper, "Hi... I'm, uh, Finn."
You hesitated for a moment before sharing your name with him. "I... I didn't see you on any of the posters. Did you come here recently?" he asked, his sleepy eyes searching for answers. Your gaze met his, and after a pause, you finally spoke, the weight of the silence settling between you. "I came here a long time ago," you confessed, a hint of resignation in your voice. "Why are you chained?" he inquired, his curiosity mingled with fear.
With a sigh, you responded quietly, "I tried to escape. But, I mean, you can believe the man who kidnapped you, or me. I don't care anymore." You retreated to your corner, overcome with shyness, and whispered, "I'm sorry you're here with me."
Finn, the name you now knew him by, stared at you with a mix of confusion and apprehension before approaching the black phone on the wall. He attempted to dial a number, but your voice cut through the silence, "It doesn't work." He fumbled with the broken cord in his hand before dropping it and placing the useless phone back down. His breath shook as he slowly curled into a ball on the mattress, his eyes fixed on you from a distance, finding solace and calmness in your presence, even in the midst of this harrowing ordeal.
You cautiously peeked out from the corner, your face still partially concealed against the wall, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before retreating. As you hesitantly opened your mouth to speak, tears welled up in your eyes, realizing this was the fifth attempt to reach out, the fifth time you had tried to offer help. "Don't listen to him," your voice quivered, conveying a plea for understanding amidst the turmoil.
To your surprise, he crouched down to your eye level, his face drawing close to the muzzle. "I wont, I promise." The intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and then he awkwardly pulled back. "Sorry," he mumbled, his shock still evident. An awkward silence enveloped the room before he mustered the courage to ask, "Why would he keep you here?" Your mind raced, grappling with the weight of the question. "You ask a lot of questions," you whispered, observing his discomfort as he looked away. "No, it's fine," he reassured you, his smile offering a glimmer of solace. "I guess I would've been confused too." You lowered your gaze, contemplating your response. "I think I'm something that's interrupting his grand plan, something that could seriously jeopardize him," you confessed softly. "But I also think I'm something he doesn't want to lose."
Tears welled up in your eyes, the shimmering reflection of your vulnerability, as he inched closer, providing a fleeting sense of solace amidst the desolation. "These chains..." you struggled to find the right words, desperation lingering in your voice, "They keep me from leaving." Finney's gaze locked with yours, drawing nearer until his presence threatened to overpower you, a side effect of the heavy drugs administered by the grabber, you presumed.
In an attempt to maintain a semblance of personal space, you instinctively lifted your knees, forming a protective barrier, your smile masking a certain unease. "Oh... uh, sorry," he stammered, his words laced with genuine sincerity. "It's okay," you replied, offering reassurance in the face of his fading strength.
Sensing his impending collapse, he rose and gingerly settled onto the mattress, his eyelids drifting shut. Following suit, you reclined on the floor, finding solace in its familiarity, its unwavering support providing an odd sense of security. He turned towards you, curiosity sparking his inquiry, "Why don't you sit on the mattress?" Your response came without hesitation, colored by an unvarnished truth, "I like the floor better..." Something about its unyielding surface granted you a twisted comfort. In an unexpected display of solidarity, he abandoned the mattress and nestled beside you. "Okay, then me too," he whispered, a small glimmer of companionship amid the darkness that enveloped you both.
Leaning his head back against the unforgiving wall, he closed his eyes, seeking solace amidst the discomfort of the cold, hard concrete. Despite the inhospitable environment, he found refuge in the presence you offered, drawing strength from the mere existence of another soul in this bleak captivity.
In the midst of the darkness that surrounded you, you were aware of the hesitance and fear exhibited by the other victims, their apprehension stemming from your chained state and blood-stained attire—a testament to the self-inflicted torment you endured. The odds of survival seemed stacked against you, but somehow, you defied the grim fate that awaited others. Glancing over at the boy, you exchanged a smile, a flicker of connection and understanding that set him apart from the rest.
And in that fleeting moment, as you closed your eyes, a spark of hope ignited within you—a small ember amidst the abyss, whispering the possibility of a different outcome, a glimmer of a future beyond this wretched existence.
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(2462 Words)
I just thought it was a good point to end this chapter, tysm for all the love and support.
Bye<3
-L