Songbird in a Snowstorm [Yandere! Marble Hornets x Reader]

General Incompetence

The creak of old wood fills the cabin. Your feet itch to sprint away. And yet somehow, you stay anchored where you stand. Jessica takes a half step backwards away from the crackling fire, turning her attention to the entryway. "Hey." She greets, keeping her voice light and even. Like she was greeting a coworker she only sort of tolerated instead of her captor.

You strained to hear over the crackling fire and bubbling pot right in front of you. There was something there. Footsteps. Light, faint, barely noticeable footsteps. Irregular, one after the other and at the same time too numerous to have come from only one person. Which could only mean one thing.

Brian's back. Probably basking in the sight of your trembling shoulders. It couldn't be anything else. Not with the way the planks shifted beneath your feet- the masked man alone wouldn't have been nearly heavy enough for that. Bile crept up your throat, threatening to spill out all too near the bubbling stew. The bugs were back, scurrying over your arms and burrowing into your flesh. No amount of flailing would remove them, but you end up harshly rubbing at your arm anyway.

Out of the corner of your eye Jessica's blurry outline approaches the masked man. The top of her head just barely even with his shoulders. It's almost practiced, the way she lightly pads up to greet him. Only, light isn't the right word to use. Not when she refuses to let her gaze wander for even a second. And certainly not when she so carefully picked her way across the floor, conveniently stopping just shy of arms reach. The mix of bile and slime builds at the back of your throat, poking and prodding in search of any weaknesses.

There was a small, lean body grasped in his hand. You could see the muscles, pink and purple all stretched out over bone and hung limp. It dangles gripped only by one leg, body swaying inches from the floor. Stripped of fur and paws, you could only wonder what poor creature had been slaughtered.

The masked man-the only one you didn't know the name of-said something to Jessica, but you can't quite make out what. She doesn't react. With a sideways glance you can see him though. See his eyes fixed straight ahead, unblinking. He was still. Not just a bit stiff or excessively tense, but entirely unmoving as he stood in place. Only his head moved when he noticed your stare.

You could feel your skin crawl under that gaze. It was hard to not wince from the attention, let alone maintain eye contact. But you didn't have to for long. Behind him Brian pulls a cutting board off of a low shelf and throws it down on a table with a noisy clatter. The man in front of you doesn't even flinch.

His mask tilts up ever so slightly, the plastic edge illuminating all the little scrapes littering its surface. For once the mouth of his hoodie was just barely loose enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sickly pale neck. Long, deep scars litter the area around his jugular. Like someone had tried to slit his throat, but failed multiple times over. Swallowing hard, you manage a small nod as you pry your eyes away from the gashes.

There's a wet slap as the pinkish white remains of some poor creature slams into a thin slab of wood. The masked man steps back just as Brian slides in to take his place. A flash of steel within his gloved hand accompanies the sound of a sickening crunch. Like crushing a balloon full of slime and gravel. The sound of meat bruising and bone turning to shards.

Your eyes zero in on the carcass. Long, thin bones ending abruptly in jagged ends where dainty little paws should have been. Flaps of fileted meat splayed out across the cutting board. Places where the spine still seeped a clear fluid and little drops of blood remained. It was probably still alive just hours before. Going about its life, oblivious to the danger it wandered into.

Shadows creep across the floor, inching closer by the second. Movement registers in the corner of your eye, little more than a light tan blur. You try to turn your head to track whoever had crept up into your peripheral, but your body refuses to listen. The last thing you pick up on is a glimpse of stark white plastic before your very being hones in on Brian.