The One You Trust (YB Peter x Reader)

Chapter 10

Three days and nights went by in a blur of sleep and pain. Three days were spent forced in his company, with restraints being used less and less. He never yelled, although you'd never given him the opportunity to. He never even touched you without your permission (or if it was to help you). Your bucket was cleaned every couple of hours. He figured you wouldn't want to smell all of that in your "cozy" bed. Plus, he had planned on getting you more books, and reading with that awful smell next to you would surely be a crime.

Peter had gone into town, which was about a half hour drive away, to get you them. He asked you what you liked to read, as you didn't have a lot of books he noticed when he snuck into your apartment, and he didn't want to have you be bored or upset with him. As much as he needed you to be compliant, he couldn't have you endure a psychotic break because you were sitting alone in a room with only your head as entertainment. He knew he couldn't be there with you 24/7. You needed your alone time to unwind, so books were the next best option.

He didn't have cell service, or television up there anyway.

He was almost in and out after deliberating over which books to get for a couple of minutes. He didn't have time to waste. You were alone, tied up in a basement, with no one who knew of your existence except for him. Something bad could've happened while he was gone. Maybe someone broke in. Maybe that person was downstairs doing horrific things to you and it would be his fault and his fault alone. The person could've killed you by now. Peter would never forgive himself for being the cause of that happening. You were only there because of him. Because of his selfishness.

He shook his head while in his van, pulling his attention back to the dirt road leading to you. Even if nothing nearly as violent like that had happened, maybe you'd hurt yourself trying to break free again. You could've broken your arm, and screamed in pain hoping someone would come and help you, only to have no one come to your rescue.

Truth was, he couldn't know until he was there.

And the truth you knew, was that you'd almost broken your arm like he thought you would. It came close, absolutely a sprain after tugging and twisting it so hard, and enough pain to have worried you that you had broken it, but all of it was in vain. Again.

Peter went down the stairs, smiling with his find, and excited to see the home perfectly intact. No break ins, no weird cars parked outside, and no one inside to steal anything or anyone away from him. Of course, the bag hit the floor once he saw you crying, and immediately ran to the front of you.

"What happened?" He asked softly, cupping your cheek with his hand. "Love, what did you do?"

He didn't miss the flinch away when he touched you, yet he didn't move his hand away. You'd learn to accept his love. This wasn't hurting you, this was safe. He was safe. You'll see.

"H-Hand..." you choked out.

He untied you as quickly as he could, about to take your wrist into his hand for inspection as you pulled it into your chest to protect it. You curled your body around it, sobbing with pain and fear. He could tell your cries of emotions or pain apart now.

"Darling, let me see." He commanded, softly yet with enough force to get you to actually do it.

You looked up, fear and distrust swirling in your eyes as you scanned his face. He was sincerely trying to help, you realized. And with hesitation, you showed him your wrist.

"Can you move it?" He asked, carefully inspecting it. You nodded, and he hummed in acknowledgment. "It looks like it's just a sprain then." He stood up. "Darling, you need to stop struggling against the rope like this. I only have so many materials to help you, you know. However, I do have a brace I can put on. Stay put, okay?"