October 10th, 2005
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It's a rather rainy day, and Bob is hanging out with you at home.
"Yes Kira, I'm fine." You say, phone up to your ear. "Everything has been fine since you left. Bob has been taking care of me."
Bob watches as you put the last piece of the puzzle together.
"Yes, yeah. Okay." You glance at him, and point to the puzzle silently with a smile on your face. He grins, watching your excitement. He wants you off the phone now so he can kiss you.
You look away from him, shifting the phone to your other ear. "Okay well, I'm gonna let you go. Let me know what happens with Matt's parents. Love you." And at that, you click the phone shut, sighing. You look over to Bob. "I'm glad Kira called. She's been keeping me up to date on the Matt situation." You sigh. "I feel bad for Matt's parents. They were always so nice to me."
Unlike their son.
Not wanting to hear about that jerk anymore, Bob snakes his arm around your waist. You get the hint, and move over, sitting on his lap, straddling him. You lean into his touch, sighing in content.
Bob turns his head to yours and nibbles your ear gently, his stubble tickling your neck. You giggle, running your free hand through his hair.
"You taste so good, sunshine." Bob says quietly.
That makes you blush pretty heavily, so you simply bury your head in his shirt. Bob laughs, grabbing your ass with his hands.
He goes to kiss you again, but is interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. Groaning, he reaches over, flipping it open. "Hello?"
You watch as his face falls. You scrunch your eyebrows in concern, watching as Bob quickly closes his phone.
"What? You ask, looking at him.
He looks at you, slightly upset. "The police put a search warrant on my restaurant."
"Huh? Why?"
"I don't know. They're out to get me, (Y/N)." Bob says, gently lifting you off his lap. He stands, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on.
You sit on the couch, dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"
He groans, frustrated. "They think I'm that fuckin' murderer."
You stand up as well. "Wait? What??? Since when??" You ask, slipping your jacket on as well. Bob doesn't answer you, simply opening the door and walking out. You follow him. "Bob! Why would they think that?" You call after him, running to catch up.
It's rainy, and you almost slip on the wet concrete. Bob is still walking, a scowl on his face.
You grab at his sleeve. "Can you answer me please?"
He turns to you, gesturing angrily. You've never seen him mad before. "I don't have an answer for you, (Y/N)! I don't know!!!"
You slink back a little bit, surprised by his outburst. He's probably just frustrated. "Okay? Well, they won't find anything." You say, placing your arm on his bicep. "They won't. Because you're not guilty."
Jesus fucking Christ.
He's fucked. Bob turns away from you, continuing the walk over to Boys and Grills. You stand there, surprised. Soon enough, you decide to keep following him. Maybe you can be his ally.
Bob enters the restaurant, the bell on the door jingling aggressively. You eye the cop car parked outside, and follow him in soon after. It's empty, and some of the lights are flicked off, giving the place a creepy vibe. He heads straight over to his office, his eyes darkening.
Good. They're not in here yet. He closes his office door, locking it, not realizing that you're on the other side.
"Wh— hey! Bob?!" You say, the door slamming in your face.
Bob says nothing, opening the drawer to his desk.
...
It's empty.
Matt's phone... is gone.
FUCK!
Panicking, Bob slams the drawer shut. Where the fuck are those shitty officers? He's going to fucking kill them. He goes back over to the door, wrenching it open. At this point, you get a good look at him.
Bob looks like he's going insane. His eyes are wide, and he's shaking. "What the fuck is wrong??!" You ask, moving out of the way as Bob shoves past you.
He doesn't answer, immediately turning and walking into the kitchen. And there they are - the officers. The mustached one is holding a piece of burger in a plastic bag. The two men look up, shocked to see Bob.
John closes the bag shut. "You can't be here, son."
Bob steps forward, fists clenched. "This is my restaurant." he growls. You stand behind him, a few feet away. "I'm always allowed to be here."
Bob turns his gaze to Jack. He's holding Matt's phone - it's stuck in a little plastic baggie. Bob scowls, all his attention on Jack now. "That's mine." He says, pointing to the phone.
Jack backs up, hiding the phone behind his back. "Oh! Uh, we need to borrow it. Just for a little bit." He says nervously, watching Bob's every movement in fear. You stay silent, watching this whole ordeal. This is so fucking weird. Why is Bob acting this way?
John sets the bag containing the hamburger on the counter. "Look Bob, you're not in trouble. We just need to take the necessary precautions to keep our citizens safe." He says, putting his hands up in defense.
Oh he is totally in trouble. Not knowing what else to do, Bob launches himself at Jack, pushing John out of the way. Jack is completely stunned as the phone is ripped out of his hand.
"Put your fucking hands up. Now."
Bob slowly turns, looking at the barrel of a gun. It's John, and he's pointing it directly at Bob. You stand there silently, absolutely stunned at this turn of events.
However, the fastest you've ever seen someone humanly move, Bob shoves the phone in his jacket pocket. He then grabs a knife off the counter and promptly stabs John in the stomach.
You cover your mouth with your hands, gasping in horror. "Oh my god!"
John slumps to the floor. Bob walks over him, glancing at you. You're completely petrified. Shaking, you watch as Bob runs out of the restaurant, bloody knife in hand.
"Wh- John!" Jack yelps, kneeling down to his injured partner.
This can't be real...What just happened?
It's chaos as Jack grabs several napkins, holding them over John's wound. He groans in pain, and suddenly you're brought back to reality.
You get on your knees, assisting Jack with the napkins. "Please call the ambulance now." You say, still in shock. If you're right, the wound shouldn't be lethal.
If he gets treatment on time.
Jack's words are muffled as he calls the ambulance. You sit there, hands pressed against John's wound. He's breathing heavily, looking over at you with lidded eyes. At least he's still alive.
The minutes feel like hours, but eventually the paramedics show up. You stand up, watching as they lift John onto the stretcher. Jack watches as well, a somber look on his face.
The ambulance starts up, blaring it's sirens and speeding away. You're still in the kitchen of the restaurant, processing what just happened. Jack is right next to you, equally shocked.
Finally, Jack speaks up. "He was right."
"...huh?"
"John. He was right about Bob. This whole time."
You look down at your bloody hands. There's no way. This must be a mistake.
You stand up, shoving your hands in your jacket pocket. Jacks stands up as well, watching you.
"(Y/N)... where are you going?" Jack asks.
You don't look at him. "Home."
And you walk out of the restaurant, leaving Jack to his own devices. You want to cry, or scream - but you just can't. You can't feel anything besides disbelief as you slowly make your way home. Approaching your house, you go to unlock the door but... it's already unlocked. You slowly push the door open, peaking your head in the house. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, so you walk in, shutting the door behind you. You slide down the door, sitting with your head in your hands. This is fucking insane.
"Sunshine..."
Huh? You lift up your head, eyes wide.
Oh. It's Bob.
He's sitting on the couch, shrouded in darkness. You look at the bloody knife in his hand, further cementing the fact that this guy is really a cannibalistic murderer. Absolutely terrified for your life, you shoot up, gripping the door handle.
Bob is already behind you however, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you away from the door.
You struggle. "Let me go! Let go!" You kick and squirm, but Bob just grips onto you harder. Suddenly this is bringing back memories from a few months ago. "Don't fucking touch me!" You yell, clawing at his arms. Grunting, Bob picks you up, throwing you down on the couch. You try to get up, but he pushes you back down, effectively trapping you. You start to cry, eyes wide.
Bob watches you, a blank look on his face. You're taking this harder than he thought. He goes to wipe your tears, but you flinch away from him. Great. Now you're afraid of him.
You continue to sob. "Did you... are you actually... The Red Devil?"
It's silent for a moment. There's no use to lie to you now. "Yes."
You stand up, and Bob doesn't push you down this time. "You lied?" You ask, eyes wide. He says nothing, staring back at you. You begin to cry harder, maybe out of anger - or fear. Either way, this situation is horrible.
You push him. "What the FUCK is wrong with you?! You're a fucking liar!!" You yell, tears streaming down your face. "Liar! Liar! Liar!" You scream, hitting your fists against his chest. You continue to sob loudly, each pound of the fist getting weaker and weaker. Eventually you give up, slinking down to the ground.
He can't bare to see you this way. It's absolutely heartbreaking. However, he's not letting you go. Ever. You're his now.
You sniff, wiping your nose. "Why the fuck... is every guy I get involved with... fucking insane?" You laugh dryly. Bob crouches down, getting level with you. You don't look at him. You can't look at him. This is no longer the same man.
The rain pelts harder on the window as you wait for bob to say something. He just looks at you - tilting his head a little bit. "(Y/N)... please... just listen to me."
You shake your head. "No. Absolutely not. You are not Bob Velseb." You pause, and look into his eyes. "You're a monster."
ouch.
Bob leans over you, his arms on either side of your body.
"You're coming to my house, and staying with me." Bob says lowly.
You start crying again. "NO. I am not doing that??? I'm going to the fucking police."
"I can't let you do that."
"I'm not coming with you."
Even if you don't want to, he's going to make you anyway. He spent all this time getting to know you, falling in love with you - he's not going to let you slip away from his life so easily. Bob stands, grabbing your wrist and lifting you up to stand as well. You protest however, by going limp.
"(Y/N), don't make me drag you there." Bob says, a bit frustrated. He needs to get home before the other police officer comes to check on you.
You continue to sob. "Fuck off! Get away from me!"
This is... way harder than he thought it would be. Frustrated, Bob picks you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. The large man struggles to keep you still as you kick and punch. "Murderer! Cannibal! Monster!" You scream as Bob walks over to the door. He grabs your car keys off the counter, sticking them in his pocket.
"It's time to go home, (Y/N)." He'll apologize to you when you calm down. For now, his main goal was to take you to his house.
You continue to sob as Bob unlocks your car, opening the trunk.
Is he... going to do what I think he is?
You struggle against him. "No! Don't put me in there!"
Bob sighs. You should be fine - it's a short drive. You're small anyways. You'd fit perfectly. Struggling against you, Bob eventually manages to set you down in the trunk. You go to sit up, but he shuts it before you can get out. You scream, banging your hands against the car.
Bob runs his hand through his hair, absolutely exhausted. Maybe he should grab a couple of your things before you leave. Locking the car and ignoring your screams, he quickly makes his way back to your house. He walks into your room, grabbing a backpack. He shoves some clothes in it, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a stuffed cat. He zips the backpack closed, and decides to grab a blanket off your bed too. There. That should be good enough temporarily. Just until he can get a new place for the both of you.
...Definitely not in Iowa.
Bob locks the door, making his way to your car. He shoves your backpack and blanket in the passenger seat and makes his way over to the drivers side. He starts up the engine, the sound drowning out your cries.
Time to go home.