Sweet treats (Bob velseb x reader)

20

October 11th, 2005
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You're not sure what time it is, but you passed out after being locked in your trunk. The panic attack and outburst you had was more than enough to make you feel exhausted beyond repair.

You groan and sit up, observing your surroundings. It's the same house from when you were kidnapped. Except now, you were sitting on a mattress, one of your blankets covering the lower half of your body. You move to stand, but notice that your right wrist is handcuffed to a nearby metal pole. Of course he would restrain you.

You flop down on the bed, facing the wall. This can't be real - you just have no idea why he would have lied to you this whole time.

Maybe I would have been better off not knowing him.

The tears begin to fall again, plopping down on the mattress in little wet drops. You still can't believe it - the way he lied to you this entire time. He kidnapped you for gods sake. All to keep up this little, "facade" of his. In reality, while you were relaxing at home, he was out butchering people.

The door creaks, and you close your eyes, pretending to sleep. Footsteps get closer and closer, until they stop right in front of you.

"I know yer not sleepin'." Says the gruff voice you've come to know and love.

....

You don't turn your head - instead opting to ignore him. Maybe if you pretend he's not there he'll go away...

He clears his throat. "I got ya somethin'."

Oh? Your curiosity piqued, you turn to look at him, a glare on your face. You don't look at his eyes - instead choosing to look at what he's holding. It's a backpack. It's YOUR backpack.

Bob holds it up the backpack, the usual grin on his face not faltering. "Here." He says, tossing it onto your lap. You say nothing, simply jumping a little as the bag is tossed onto you.

Bob sighs. "Thought you might want some stuff from home."

You avoid eye contact, zipping open the bag. There's some clothes, a toothbrush and... a cat plushie. You scrunch your eyebrows, pulling it out of the bag and holding it in your lap.

Bob is watching your every move, curious as to what you might do. He watches as you hold the plushie, staring down at it with a somber expression. Suddenly, you're sniffing - oh. You're crying again.

You look up at him, eyes red. "Are you gonna kill me?"

Bob raises his eyebrows in shock. Really?

He crouches down, getting to your level. You don't look at him as he speaks. "No, Darlin'. I'm not gonna kill ya." He looks at the floor. "If I wanted to do that...I would have already."

That does not help this situation. Instead, it serves to make you cry harder. Bob panics, noticing that comment made you more upset.

"Uh- listen sunshine." He cups the side of your cheek with his hand. "I love you. I wouldn't- I'm not going to hurt you. Trust me."

"You already did."

"Huh?"

"Hurt me. You already did." You say, grabbing his hand that rests on your cheek and moving it away gently.

He ignores the comment you just made. Bob sighs, standing up. "Are ya hungry?"

... oh yes. Absolutely. You've haven't eaten in 24 hours. But you don't want to eat what Bob gives you. So you say nothing, simply staring at your feet.