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dried-mushroom · 2 years

Text

Why?

The Grabber x Reader

tw: belts, angst, kidnapping

You had finally gotten away. You had finally made it out of the torture which you've endured now for months, stuck in that basement, or so you had thought.

You knew the game he was playing, leaving the door unlocked, the handle practically beckoning you to turn it. You knew if you went up those stairs right away, he'd be sitting there with that fucking belt, waiting to use it on you. He'd beat you bloody, till you were unconscious or even worse; dead. Did he honestly think you were that stupid? you waited at least an hour before venturing up those stairs and into what that monster calls 'home'.

Your eyes searched the darkness of the living room, looking for anything of use, the only source of light was emitting from the kitchen. Where he was just sitting, seemingly deep asleep, his gangly legs spread wide, with his belt resting slack in his hand. The sight made you shudder, knowing what could have happened to you if you happened to be any earlier.

Your eyes found the front door and to your luck, it only had a basic lock, it didn't have a combination lock which would most likely have taken you eons to crack. Quickly you spared a glace at your captor, who hadn't stired, thankfully. You brought up your trembling fingers towards the lock, and a nervous jitter started in your abdomen. Any loud noise could alert the man or 'The Grabber' as others called him, and if he caught you trying to escape, he'd most likely butcher you.

A wave of relief washed over you as the door unlocked almost silently. You had finally gotten away. You had finally made it out of the torture which you've endured now for months, stuck in that basement, all you had to do was open the door and run. As soon as you turned the handle, a loud voice laced with pure anger pierced the chill air,

"GET FUCKING BACK HERE."

You knew exactly who that voice belonged to and it made your blood curdle. 'It's now or never' you thought to yourself before you pushed the door open wide and took off. The thudding of his boots on the floor, chasing after you made you run even harder.

"You bitch, no matter how fast you run, I'll catch you."

His threat meant nothing to you as you had made it down the street. Even without running for months, you were truthfully surprised at how fast you were, high on adrenaline. You couldn't hear him chasing after you. So you had a chance to slow down and catch your breath. You let out a laugh as you now were free, free from your concrete prison, your fucked up captor, it was all gone. Now all you had to do was go to the authorities and tell them everything.

Oh how you were so wrong.

As you were now briskly walking up the narrow street, the familiar rumble of a particular car sent you running faster than before. You knew it was him, he had found you, and he was going to take you back to that fucking basement and do God knows what to you. Yet, you kept persisting, running further on the pavement, just trying to escape your doom.

Suddenly you roughly hit the ground, a pair of hands grabbed your hips harshly pulling you closer to the warm bare chest of someone. Him. You both were obscured from sight in some shrubs. You could feel the bottom of his mask press into your shoulder, and you saw a porch light turn on at the house only a few feet away. Tears started to form in your eyes, as you realised that you were going to put through hell when he took you back. You felt the cool touch of a blade pressed against your through, he whispered,

"If you say one fucking word, and I will gut you like a pig right here in the street and strangle you with your own intestine."

His threat made your building tears fall down your cheeks, but you stayed silent. When the porch light flickered off, he moved the blade and straddled you, the last thing you remember is the last words he spoke before knocking you out with his fist, adorning rings.

"Nighty night naughty girl."

smol time skip

You think it's morning when you stir, a throbbing pain sets behind your right eye and you feel the familiar uncomfortable mattress beneath and you suddenly remember the events of last night making you gulp. Fearing the worst, you didn't move a muscle. An amused chuckle broke the air,

"You naughty fucking girl. LOOK AT ME"

You slowly sat up, inching closer towards the wall, inching further away from him. You took notice of how he didn't change from last night's attire. Did he watch you all night? the thought sent a shiver down your spine as you met his eyes, through the mask of course.

"You really tried to leave me? why? Was I not good enough for you?"

His words oozed hurt and condescension as he looked down at you, from the opposite wall, you froze when you saw the belt taut around his hand, he noticed your eyes lingering down at his hand.

"Oh this little thing? well, you need a punishment for what you did and my belt seems pretty fitting, no?"

Your face drained as he walked closer to you, almost imitating a predator stalking its prey. He got close to the edge of the mattress, the tension thickening with every second. Before you had a chance to defend yourself, he lashed out and hit you, right on the jaw with his free hand, making you double over in pain. He bent down to your height and pushed your hand away from where he hit, practically admiring his handiwork. He quickly dropped his hand before ordering you,

"On your stomach. now. also, top off"

You did as he said, slowly undressing your top half, him staring awfully long at your bare breasts, before lying uncomfortably face down on the mattress. He placed a boot roughly on your lower back, making you bite your lip in pain, you assume he did this for dominance and to make sure you don't squirm. He didn't waste a precious second before whacking your back with the rough leather of the belt. The impact of the belt broke your skin and made tears bubble up, a scream getting caught in your throat. He hit you, again, and again, and again, and you almost lost count of how many times that leather made contact with your bare skin, now sticky and cold with blood.

Your face is stained wet with tears, your throat scratched red raw from relentless screaming from the pain he inflicted on you. While hitting you, he'd barely say anything, seemingly too enraged to even degrade you. You couldn't bear the torture any longer, you hoarsely begged him.

"please. enough. I'm sorry. I won't try to leave. ever again. just please stop hitting me. please."

Most of your words came out in choked sobs, you were barely coherent. He laughed before hitting you once more as if you needed a reminder. Yet he decided to be 'merciful', he slid his boot from your lower back and bent down to your level. Not without fisting a hand in your hair, craning your neck to look into his eyes, which you noticed were unnervingly glossy.

"You better hope those pretty wounds don't get infected."

Without another word he left you alone in the room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Even with him gone, you still were crying, crying wasn't the right word. It was borderline hysterical sobbing, here you were after you tried to finally be free, stuck in the same basement knowing you'd never be free until the day you die or alternatively, killed him. You pulled your knees to your chest and faced the wall, begging yourself to just stop breathing, then it'd be all over.

The next morning

He almost felt bad for what he did to you. Seeing you so vulnerable, under him made him feel euphoric but as soon as he saw your face, he felt a trickle of guilt seep into him, he saw the look of pure fear and pain in your eyes. (which would irl prob make him hard but oh well).

You didn't sleep at all that night, too paranoid of him coming back to shut an eye. It was morning, as you could see the light come through the vent close to the roof from the corner of your eye. You didn't bother to move, your back felt worse than it did yesterday, the welts had an everlasting burning to them. When you heard the door click open you just wished the ground beneath you would just open up and swallow you whole. You didn't budge when he walked closer to you and placed the tray of 'food' down on the floor near you. You felt the mattress dip and he sat next to your smaller frame. He placed a hand on your thigh and felt how you tensed up.

"I'm really sorry for what I did to you yesterday...I shouldn't have hurt you so bad."

Hearing his apology made you sit up, and you noticed he wasn't wearing his mask, it was odd to see since he was always wearing that creepy fucking mask. He was staring at his lap, his auburn hair covering part of his face. You moved closer to him and whispered,

"Thanks...for apologizing"

The tension in the room was honestly awkward until he offered to fetch some disinfectant and another clean shirt, you nodded at his offer. When he came back with his supplies he looked down at you softly. He sat behind you as you flipped your hair to the side, as he started to dab a cloth soaked in disinfectant on your wounds, making you let out a hiss of pain. He put a reassuring hand on your bare shoulder while cleaning you.

After he was finished, he gave you one of his black silk shirts, it honestly felt so soothing to your skin. Once you were fully dressed, he beckoned you to sit in between his legs, you don't know what compelled you to do it. Your back was pressed against the soft material of his open cardigan and some of his bare chest. While his chin rested gently on your shoulder. He mumbled in your ear,

"This is...nice...We shoulc be like this more often."

You mumbled an agreement, as you started to feel drowsy in the man's arms, slowly you drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Little did you realise that this was exactly what he had planned from the start.

#ethan hawke #the black phone #the grabber #the grabber x reader #i want this man so bad #i need to touch grass #i really need help

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