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

Naughty

Cw: torture, you probably knew it was coming anyways

It wasn't long before Ross's unconscious figure was placed inside the cellar and Finney was a shaking, violently sobbing mess stood in the kitchen with Albert glaring at him. With blurry vision and sore eyes, the younger watched the other retrieve a familiar steak knife from the cutlery drawer, walking right up to the miserable boy.

"Three days," he started, dangerous, slow, thought-out. "It took you three days to fuck up. I thought you were better than that, sweetheart."

"S-sorry..."

"Shh, shh, shh..." Albert hushed, shaking his head. "You aren't allowed to speak right now. Shut up, and then take your shirt off."

Too many things happened. To sum it up, I had to punish my Finney.

Finney removed his shirt with shaking hands, disappointed in himself. He deserved what was to come.

So, I got him to take off his shirt,

"Lay on your back on the floor."

Finney listened again, looking up at the elder that stood over him with fear in his eyes.

get on the floor on his back, and then

Albert sat on the floor beside the frightened boy, holding the knife in his hand steadily. He pressed the blade deep into the flesh of the shivering brunette, moving the sharp edge along and opening the boy's skin without mercy.

Finney bit his tongue, but that didn't prevent him from whimpering in pain.

I carved some words into his chest to remind him not to fuck up so badly again. Those words were:

"Now you know not to be a naughty boy again."

"NAUGHTY."

...

Darkness encapsulated the two teenage boys that sat uncomfortably in the cellar, no light whatsoever giving them the luxury of seeing one another's faces. For all Ross knew, he was alone in whatever place this was. Alone, afraid and cold, with the feeling of being betrayed present in his insides.

He jolted in shock when he heard a foreign voice speak through the silence of the room.

"Ross? Is that your name?"

"Yeah... And you're Finney Blake, right?"

Finney felt puzzled by the knowledge.

"How- how did you know that?"

"You're a missing person," Ross informed.

"But-" that doesn't make sense. How can I be missing if no one misses me?

"What?"

"How does anyone know...? How do they know I'm missing?"

"What do you mean? Your face is all over the news, and the police came to our school asking about you. They know you're missing," Ross explained softly, hugging a leg to his chest while the other one laid out on the concrete in front of him.

"But how? I didn't think anyone would- would look for me."

"Oh..." The word was like a breath. "Well, someone must be looking for you if you have missing posters all over town."

But who, Finney wanted to say, who would be looking for him? Albert had helped make it clear as day that nobody wanted him, or missed him, or even loved him enough to go looking for him. So, who?

Instead of speaking, however, the boy remained wordless.

It was just as silence began to creep back over the room when Ross whispered, "so, it was Albert all along?"

"Yeah..." Finney mumbled the reply. "I'm sorry, Ross. I pulled you into this, I'm so, so sorry."

"It's not your fault, I should've listened when Albert told me to leave. But if I did do that, I wouldn't have known where you were. You mightn't have known people were looking for you."

"No, no, Albert, I was fine here. I started liking it... You shouldn't be here, Albert's going to- he's going to-" hurt you, Albert will hurt you.

But only if you deserve it. Because every time Finney had been hurt by Albert, he'd known he deserved it. That time he was force-fed, Albert was only trying to help him and he was being a brat. Recently, when Albert wrote 'NAUGHTY' into his chest was only because it was true; he had been naughty.

"Albert killed his brother," Finney threw out quietly, folding into himself by pressing his knees to his sore chest. The sting he felt was deserved. "If he doesn't like you he might-" he stopped himself, not knowing if he could let the words past his mouth. The implication spoke enough for itself.

"Finney," Ross spoke in a pitiful tone, "what have you been through?"

Images of Albert stabbing a knife through the back of his brother, writing the letter to Gwen, snuggling in a warm bed with Albert, Albert holding him after he'd hurt himself, and the face of that doll after it had been split open flashed through Finney's mind. The feeling of having food forced into his mouth, and the feeling of Albert's warmth washed over him simultaneously. It was conflicting, if he was honest.

"A lot," the younger whispered. The words hung in the air like the cold, though more meaningful than the temperature.

There was a thoughtful pause, and then the ginger talked again.

"So... you said if Albert doesn't like me the same as he didn't like his brother, does that mean he does like you? Because, well..."

Finney sucked in a shaky breath.

"He said he loves me."

"You want to get out of here?"

"You might, but... I don't want to leave."

Ross couldn't believe that. Finney knew Albert had murdered someone – knew that Albert was very much a dangerous person – yet he didn't want to leave him? If the orange-haired boy's brain was connecting the right dots, Albert could also very well be linked to the disappearances.

Ross felt stupid he'd not thought of it before, but also felt stupid for linking the possibilities now. He felt stupid for trusting Albert for so long he'd not felt like their friendship was a true one from the very beginning. And yet he always did go crawling back to Albert.

But that would stop now. He didn't need Albert to think for him, didn't need him to speak or breath for him either. Ross was independent and he knew Albert found the arising individuality threatening just by the reaction he had to Ross coming over unprompted.

"Will you help me get out of here, then?"

"I don't-"

"What if he doesn't like me, like you said he might?"

Finney felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Should he agree to helping the other, it might fail and they could both end up with their blood illustrated across the cellar walls. Should it succeed if he agreed, Albert would find out one way or another and then Finny would be the one in deep shit.

Should he disagree with helping Ross, that would leave the possibility of Albert doing something unspeakable to Ross. Should he disagree, he'd leave Ross miserable with the very slim possibility of the ginger forgiving him for: 1, getting him into these ridiculous circumstances; and 2, for making him stay in these ridiculous circumstances by not helping him.

The speedy thoughts wrapping his head in a bandage of hopelessness, helplessness, and frustration were getting to him. Why couldn't Ross just accept his fate here? Why did he have to make this a difficult situation for both himself and Finney?

"I don't know, Ross," he spat, his tone changing from soft to stiff rather quickly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Please Finney? I have an idea and I need you to help me."

Finney ran his fingers through his hair, gripping onto his brunette locks.

"I don't know."

...

And it only took 3 days for Finney to fold 😭 ****edit: i mean 14 days!! Not 3 lol****