Below the Surface

November 2, 1982

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Big violence, drugging (?) , brief language

Grabber's POV: 

John Finney Blake. Known to the public as simply 'Finney'. From my understanding, Finney Blake is a good kid. Helpful to those who need it, kind to everyone who breathes, he's smart-- Y/N tells me all the time about his extensive knowledge on rockets-- and he truly cares about the emotional state of others. In my opinion, he should focus more on his dad's emotional state. It's no secret that Terrence Blake is a violent man, especially after a little buzz. Oh, but that's not my place to meddle. I can only sit back and shake my head. I mean, I was knocked around a bit when I was a kid, and look how I turned out. Perfectly fine! This little side-hobby of mine, it has nothing to do with my childhood, I assure you. Kids are just... so perfectly innocent. They don't know the true horrors of the world we live in. I've taken it upon myself to teach them. Once their time on this planet runs out, they fully understand what our reality has become. Just the way it should be. 

I had taken a liking to Finney. He made Y/N very happy-- I suspected she liked him as more than a friend-- and he seemed very gullible. What, with all his helpfulness and his youthfulness, he was sure to be. I suppose it didn't hurt that he was, simply put, easy on the eyes. He played baseball and was damn good at it, too. I'd seen him play. He was a batter, and the swing that kid hand in his arm... Jesus, he could've easily taken down Goliath. That was my one true concern. He was a scrawny kid, sure, but that arm... it could cause a problem for me. 

I had planned on taking Finney after he came over for the first time. He was my ideal. Youthful, good-looking, innocent; it was as if God had rewarded me for ridding the world of Robin Arellano. A well-deserved reward, if I may. On this sunny Friday, God saw Finney was alone, and sent me on a mission. 

Every Friday, I had learned, his sister slept over at a friends' house. This friend lived on the way to their house, which meant that Finney had to complete a good majority of the trek by himself. This Friday was like no other. I was on my way home from the store when I saw Finney turn the corner. Immediately, I knew it was time. 

I pulled my van over, balloons ready as always in the black, tucked a can of pepper spray into my sleeve, and grabbed one of my grocery bags. As I hopped out, I made a point of stumbling, losing my hat and most of the groceries in my bag as I fell. I groaned, then laughed at myself. 

"Isn't that something?" I laughed, shaking egg yolks from my hand as Finney approached. 

"Need some help?" He asked.

"Would you grab me my hat?" I asked, gathering the undamaged groceries and placing them back in the bag. 

He handed me the hat and I put it on. I wondered if Finney recognized me in my pathetic excuse of a disguise I wore. I had painted my face an unnatural white and donned the darkest sunglasses I could find. Maybe my voice gave it away, or maybe he didn't put two and two together. 

"I am a part-time magician," I announced. "Would you like to see a trick?"

Finney nodded eagerly and smiled, revealing his dimples. "Sure!" 

I produced the can from my sleeve and shook is as Finney observed my tinted windows. His smile faded and he saw what was inside. "Are-- are those black balloons in there?" 

Showtime. 

"Yes, sir!" I replied, opening the door and grabbing them. I attempted to use them to cover Finney as I threw him in the back of the van, but he was much stronger than I anticipated, and so ensued a tustle. He began to scream, I'm sure praying for someone to save him. I took my chance and sprayed the can directly into his mouth, causing him to choke. When my grip tightened around his waist, he suddenly dragged something sharp across my arm, a searing pain following close behind. I screamed as I finally got him off his feet and into the back of the van. I climbed in after letting my bundle of balloons go and slammed the door closed. I waited for him to pass out before I drove away, leaving behind about a dozen broken eggs on the sidewalk. 

_______________

Finney stayed out shorter than I thought he would. I watched him began to wake up as I carried him down into the basement. 

"My arm," I growled to him. "I should snap your neck for what you did to my arm." I hadn't yet gotten a chance to wrap it. Y/N would be home soon, and I couldn't let her see me with her friend. 

I dropped Finney down on the mattress, and he stirred, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. I didn't think it would do much good; some of the spray had gotten in his eyes. His vision, I'm sure, was about as helpful as a snowball is to warm someone up. I studied his squinted eyes as he studied my mask, more than likely trying to remember what happened. The eye contact was uncomfortable, and after a moment, I diverted my attention to my arm. I touched the drying blood around the wound, some coming off on my fingertips. 

"Jesus," I whispered. "It's covered in blood." Just in case he couldn't see the damage he had done. In that moment, I considered killing him right then and there. I couldn't bring myself too. "You see that?" 

He continued looking straight ahead. Furrowing my brow, I waved my hand in front of his face. I hoped I hadn't permanently blinded him. It'd be a shame if I did. 

"I know you're scared, but I'm not going to hurt you anymore," I lied. Of course I was! That was the whole plan! Pain and suffering was what made the world go round, how could I not? 

Before I could continue, Finney closed his eyes. I didn't blame him; I'm sure they hurt like hell. I didn't see a point in finishing my thought if he wasn't all there, so I sighed and stood back up. I turned and walked out the door, making sure the lock clicked. This was such a beautiful gift; it would be a shame for me to lose it so quick. I removed my mask and  hung it on the handle before continuing up the stairs. I made it to the kitchen just as Y/N was walking up the driveway. Quickly, I picked up the phone and acted as if I were mid-conversation. 

"Right, right. And, does it inhibit the grass from growing at all? I'm just asking because I'm trying to refresh my lawn right now--" a pause to wave to Y/N, who had entered. "--and I'd hate to see all that work go to waste." 

She went upstairs to her room, and I finished my "conversation" with the helpful gardener on the other side. I sighed and got a good look at my arm. Finney really did a number on it. I wondered what he stabbed me with. Hopefully, he dropped it and didn't still have it. Otherwise, I might have to kill him much sooner than I hoped.