POSSESSION || MATURE CONENT 🔞 || FINNEY BLAKE X THE GRABBER

Joke

After what the boy assumed was almost two whole hours of eerie, uninterrupted silence, at last he heard a sign of life from upstairs. He'd had enough of staring at blank concrete walls, floor, and ceiling, and had undoubtedly had enough of the quietness. It was the bang of a heavy door shutting that brought life back to the area. Though the slam of the door was muffled by the fact Finney was downstairs and enclosed by another door, it was obnoxious enough to sound clear in his ears.

Sharp footsteps followed the bang, next coming the unfamiliar, suppressed voice of someone squeezing its way through the gaps around the door up the stairs. Presumably, it was another man, his voice deep and exhausted as he spoke, "Sorry, I was held up at work. I'll order us some food for tonight, I'm too tired to cook."

"Alright," the kidnapper's recognisable voice replied. "Are you too tired for a surprise, though? I have one for you in the cellar." He sounded cheerful.

"Oh, never too tired for your surprises," the second stranger appeared just as jovial.

Two pairs of feet shuffled along the floorboards, nearing the small confinement Finney had been forced into, causing the boy's heartbeat to run wildly as it had when he'd first woken up. His back straightened again, still pressed against the sleek, chilly wall as he awaited the arrival of his captor and the man he was bringing down. The teen did assume he was the surprise.

The door at the top of the stairs clicked open, giving way for the two visitors. A pair of black boots came into the sights of the bound boy, moving warily down the steep steps. A man, not much older then he was, exhibited himself as he closed in on the landing, concentrated more on not toppling down the staircase than he was on what was inside of it. As the male finalised his journey to the cellar, Finney couldn't help but worry about what was going to happen when the man saw him.

The kidnapper followed behind him, hanging back a little so he wouldn't bump into his familiar on the way down. The man finally looked up, readying himself for a nice surprise, but only being met with the sight of a teenager curled into himself and tied up in the furthest corner of the room. His face turned into one of shock and utter bewilderment as he watched Finney stare back, small, and frightened.

"Dude, is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Nope," the stranger denied, a sickening smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He was positioned behind the older, raising a hand up above his head to reveal something long, pointy, barely gleaming in the dimness of the enclosed space, aimed directly at the male's back. "Not everything's a joke, Max."

Finney immediately understood what was about to happen, letting out a muffled, but obnoxious noise of urgency, pointing his fingers in the direction of the knife in the air. God, he really hoped the other would turn around.

God, he wished the other had turned around.

It was too late for the man to save himself, to shield himself from the possibility of being stabbed in the back by his own son. Although there was hardly enough illumination in the room to make out miniscule, distinct facial features, the deep red that spread across the top of the man's white button-down was like a firework exploding in slow-motion. It was a painstakingly long moment between the stabbing and the actual, physical fall of the nameless man.

Finney screamed tumultuously through the material in his mouth, watching with widened eyes as the choking, gurgling, and bleeding man fell to the ground, crumbling like sand under a shoe. A frightful squelch sounded off the echoey walls, emitting from where the captor – and now murderer – had removed the sharp weapon from his "friends" back. He stared down at his dying body, not even an ounce of remorse glinting in his expression.

"Shush," the still unnamed student said to the wailing boy who sat mere metres away from the corpse. "Don't scream, it'll damage your sweet voice. Plus, it would be easier for me to clean this up in peace. But, not before..." he trailed off.

The stranger's free hand (the one not holding a murder weapon) scooped down to pick up some of the redness from the pool on the floor by his feet. His fingers seemed to tremor as they dipped into the crimson atrament spilling next to the dying – or dead – body. With the blood on his hands, the captor began to paint with it on the wall directly across from Finney, spelling something out: ALBERT.

"Now, you'll never forget my name."

...

There is no s/a in this chapter or any others so if thats what you were looking for gtfo