Finney x reader

Chapter 2- Rules and Restrictions

In the dimness of the basement, your weary eyes fixated on the closed door, yearning for the moment it would swing open. Time had blurred into a relentless stream, marked by the tally marks etched onto the cold walls—the silent witnesses to a month and two long years of captivity. Now aged ten, your birthday had passed just a week ago, a day that had held no celebration. The cupcake that your dad, now known as the grabber, would usually make had been forgotten. Yet, amidst the torment of abuse and violation, the absence of a birthday treat seemed insignificant.

Suddenly, a familiar creak sliced through the stagnant air—a door opening. Instinct propelled you forward, sprinting toward your captor, slipping through his grasp like a wisp of smoke. With newfound determination, you raced up the stairs, desperation pulsating through your veins. The pounding of your small fists against the door echoed with hope and risk, for this was your final gamble, a daring attempt at escape after exhausting every other possibility.

"HELP!" your desperate cry pierced the air, but before any salvation could arrive, his vice-like arms coiled around your neck, dragging you backwards towards the kitchen table. Panic surged through your veins as he seized a canister, its contents sprayed mercilessly into your eyes and mouth, inducing a disorienting haze that gradually engulfed your senses, causing your body to crumble helplessly to the floor once more.

As consciousness slowly reclaimed its hold, you awoke in the familiar confines of the basement, the lingering effects of the drug leaving you groggy and dizzy. Reality swirled back into focus, only for you to realize the horrifying truth—you attempted to move your arms, only to find them painfully restrained, shackled behind your back. And then, a chilling sensation brushed against your face—a cold, ominous weight that sent shivers down your spine—a muzzle, a cruel reminder of your captor's complete dominance over your every move and a symbol of the torment that awaited you.

A whimper escaped your trembling lips as you gasped for air, the oppressive presence of the muzzle failing to silence your cries. Throughout the night, your anguished shouts and piercing screams echoed through the desolate space, a haunting symphony of despair and longing.

With each passing week, your once hopeful gaze at the door grew darker, the markings on the wall serving as a grim reminder of the passing time. But now, as you fell to the floor, the weight of uncertainty crushed your spirit. The muzzle pressed against your flesh, its unforgiving grip leaving a trace of blood trickling down your chin. Desperation consumed you, prompting you to repeatedly bang your head against the unyielding floor, seeking a momentary escape from the monotony of your existence. However, the pain and disorientation that ensued forced you to cease, causing you to flop sideways from the impact, left to dream a dream as colorless and lifeless as the reality that confined you.

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The next morning, as the screechy metal door swung open, he entered the dimly lit basement and froze at the sight before him—your feeble form barely stirring, blood staining your shirt. Setting the food down on the floor, he lowered himself to your level, concern etched across his face. "Y/n... are you... y/n?" His gaze fixated on your partially opened eyes.

In a barely audible whisper, you pleaded, "Let me out," prompting a sigh of relief to escape his lips. He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, offering a sliver of solace amidst the bleakness. But his response, when it came, caught you off guard. "If you shut the hell up, which I can't trust you to do anymore," he retorted, his words laced with an unexpected edge.

You closed your eyes once more, frustration and despair seeping through your veins. "So what's your plan then? Just leave me in here forever, rotting in this hellhole?" His grip tightened around the muzzle, lifting you off the ground, eliciting a whimper of pain. "Shut the fuck up kid," he spat, his anger mounting. However, before he could release his grip, a defiant act of defiance seized you, and you spat in his face, a small act of rebellion against the chains that bound you.

Enraged, he rose to his feet, wiping the spit off his face with a menacing glare before flicking it disdainfully in your direction. The atmosphere grew thick with tension as he let out a deep breath, his hands curling into tight fists.

"If you're going to disobey me..." His voice thundered, reverberating through the room as he abruptly slammed the door shut, leaving you trapped in silence, trembling with anticipation.

As soon as the echo of his fading footsteps dissolved into the void, you mustered the last shreds of strength and crawled on your knees towards the meager plate of food discarded on the floor. Desperation consumed you, and without a second thought, you used the bottom of your dog muzzle to pick it up, flipping your face upwards in a futile attempt to catch the morsels in your mouth. Hunger gnawed at your insides, overpowering any aversion to the dirt-ridden, flavorless sustenance that lay before you, with even the unwelcome crunch of eggshells failing to deter your desperate appetite.

Your eyes shifted to the soda nearby, a straw placed thoughtfully in it, mocking your dire circumstances. Bitter anger clenched your teeth as you realized just how far you had fallen, how rock bottom was no longer a distant concept but a cruel reality that swallowed your very existence. In this desolate abyss, even the notion of living seemed impossible, pushing you to the brink of despair. And yet, a chilling thought tugged at the fringes of your consciousness: perhaps, in this realm of darkness, where life had been stripped away, there was no lower point to descend to. Maybe, just maybe, for the dead, there could be a twisted solace in the absence of death itself.

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(985 Words)

I'm writing the longer chapter and it should be released by today, k? Keep reading bc Finney comes in next chapter...!

love y'all bye. <3

-L