Hope (House of wax x reader)

ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ

You and your brother managed to get close to the house, not getting followed or managing to run into the mysterious Vincent.  So, you both felt like you might finally be safe.  But Nick was still precautious though.

"Stay close," he demanded.

"I am close," you told him.

"Get closer.  I'm not taking any risks."

"Well, you're going to fast.  Slow the fuck down."

Nick scoffed, and you two approached the property.  He looked at the truck once more, wondering if he should do another once over for his sister's phone.  He figured there was one inside, but was it a good idea to double check?  Besides, once he found Carly, wouldn't she want her phone?  Besides, Bo was dead, so...

"Hey kid, change of plans," Nick told you.  "Go look in the truck for Carly's phone.  I'm gonna go look for everyone inside."

"Okay," you shrugged.

"Keep the pipe.  Anything happens, you come get me.  Got it?"

"Yep."

You both parted ways, and Nick quickly made his way into the house.  You made your way over to the fucked up pickup truck, and opened the passengers side door.  You still tried to be quiet.  Maybe the paranoia that someone was still after you?  Or the fear that there was actually a Vincent dude walking around, waiting to make you into wax too?

You began feeling around the floor of the truck, but couldn't find it.  But you heard an animalistic wail.  Your head snapped in the direction it came from, and you quickly realized it was coming from the movie theater.  You moved where you had been standing to get a better look, and you looked down at the town. 

Low and behold, limping out of the theater was Bo, very much alive.  You panicked, and ran into the house, listening to Bo's cries and wails from down in the town.

"Nick," you called out.  "Nick, we have a problem!"

"What?!  What's going on," he shouted, quickly running into view.

"Bo's alive!  I saw him!  I think he's coming here," you exclaimed.

"Okay, okay, calm down."

"Calm down?  Calm down?!  We're gonna fucking die and you want me to calm down?!"

"Calm down and quiet the fuck down," Nick seethed.  "You don't think straight when you're panicked.  And check this out, I think there might actually be a Vincent."

He handed you some black photos, and a newspaper clipping about Siamese twins.  You looked at the photos, and their subject.  It was a pair of conjoined twins, attached right at the face.  It looked like one's face was enveloping the other, almost like a scene from the movie 'Society.'  You looked back at the article, and read the first few lines.

"These were the Sinclair boys Bo was talking about earlier," you pointed out.

Before Nick could inquire what that meant, you heard the front door start to open, and you both bolted, dropping the photos.  Sadly, in different directions.  You ran off to the right, into a game room.  There was a divider/bar sort of thing that connected to a doorway, so this room had a clear access to the kitchen and pantry.  Nick ran down the hall, past the bathroom into an office looking thing.  He dove behind a curtain, and hid, hoping you could handle yourself.

You dove under a pool/billiards table, and watched as the heavy boots of your potential killer walked into the room.  He still had an arrow sticking out of his leg, and you would've snickered if it weren't for the fact that you couldn't be seen.

Bo walked into the kitchen, and you watched as he began to treat his wounds.  First, he gripped the arrow in his leg, and began to pull.

"FUCK," he screamed.

He ripped it out, beginning to cry a bit as he did so.  He dropped the arrow on the counter top, and grabbed the rag that he had been using to dry dishes earlier.  He tied it around his bleeding leg, and then he moved on to the arrow in his chest.  He grabbed it and began to pull, only to stop.

He leaned over the sink and threw up, the pain getting to be too much to handle.  He reached for a set of pliers, held them up to the arrow, and cut it shorter.  You heard a dog barking and a truck pull up, so you looked over at the window next to the pool table.  You looked back at Bo, who was once again occupied with his chest wound.

Deciding to get a bit ballsy, you crawled over to the window.  You gently moved the curtains, and peeked out.  It was another pickup truck, with a man with long hair and a mask on his face.  Vincent.  In the truckbed?  Blake and Paige's bodies.  They were dead.

Real good thing you didn't go looking for them, you'd probably be in there with them.

You dove back under the pool table, and you heard the other man enter.  Right as he made his way into the game room, Bo ripped out the arrow in his chest.

"GOD DAMMIT, I TOLD YA NOT TA DO THAT," Bo screeched.  "HEY!!  YOU DON'T EVER LEAVE HERE WITHOUT ME!!  You know better than that!  Don't be so stupid!  What's the matter with ya?!"

Vincent began to lean down, and reach towards Bo's leg injury.

"Don't," Bo demanded.

The masked man ignored him, and tried to untie the rag.

"I said don't!  Get!"

Bo kicked the man, and his shoe skidded across the cheekbone, cutting through some of the wax.

"Get!  Fuckin' freak!"

Vincent stood up, grabbed a spoon, and opened up the house's junk drawer.  He searched around for the box of matches, and pulled it out.  He struck a match and began to heat up the spoon.  He grabbed the toaster, and used it as a mirror as he fixed his mask with the hot spoon, mending the scratch his brother had made.

"Hey, town's lookin' real good," Bo said in a much more gentle tone.  "We almost finished what mama started.  And I found a kid that'll fit in quite nice."

Bo looked at the mask his brother was wearing.

"What'd I tell you, huh?  Isn't your work more real now," Bo asked.  "Ma would be proud.  Yeah, she'd be real proud.  She always said that yer talent would make up fer what god took away from ya.  And there's one more, so we still have some work to do."

Bo made his way over to the window, and stopped when he saw the photos on the floor.  You held your breath, and Bo bent over to grab the memories.  He saw something in the corner of his eye, and turned to look.  Your eyes widened and the color drained from your face as Bo turned to look at you.

"Found you," he smirked.

You hastily backed up and tried to crawl out from under the pool table, only to feel someone grab under your armpits, and lift you up like someone presenting a god damn cat.  Bo was still on the other side of the table, slowly pulling himself up so he didn't further injure his chest.  So that meant Vincent was holding you.  How strong were these two?

"See?  I told ya they'd fit in," Bo stated.

"Nick!  NICK!!  HELP ME," you screamed, kicking and flailing around once more.  "NICK!!  I NEED HELP!!  NICK, WHERE ARE YOU?!!  NICK!!"

"Strap 'em up, I'm gonna go find that Nick," Bo instructed.

Bo headed out the house, while Vincent took you down the hallway into his office.  You were kicking and screaming, trying your damndest to put up a good fight.  And for a kid your age, you were.  Sadly, it just wasn't good enough.

He laid you down on the metal operating table, and began to strap you down.  It was fairly hard, but he had seen his mother and father do this every morning for years, so he knew what he was doing.  The one time Bo's bad behavior came in handy.

He finished, and made his way out of the room, most likely to go find his brother.  You were still screaming out for yours though.  Luckily, he had heard you.

A trapdoor flew open, and your head snapped over in that direction.  Nick crawled out, still holding the shotgun.