The Chance to make a Change

Chapter 5: Nightime

Summary: Time to go to sleep
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You woke up to a dark room and a dull ache between your legs. Memories slowly started to return and you had to bite back a cry. Albert had been inside of you. You could still feel the stickiness that had dried between your legs. Of all the things you had imagined that could happen, this had not been one of them.

There had been daylight creeping through the blinds when you had been awake earlier. Glancing at your side, you confirmed that there was no light coming in through the windows. It must be later, nighttime, you mused. Which meant that time had passed again. You were missing out on hours of your life. The thought alone hurt.

Then you heard him, a faint shuffle of feet on the Berber rug. Not long after, you heard a click from the nightstand and flinched as a blinding light filled the room. Just great, your head hurt all over again. You flinched and wished you could hide somewhere, away from the blinding light from the lamp on the nightstand.

The blanket that covered you was lifted from you. And when you looked up you found Albert in front of you, looming over you with the blanket clutched in his right hand, his mask hiding his face completely this time.

His daily clothes had been swapped for pajamas that otherwise would have made you laugh. Flannel. Typical old man ones. So ordinary once again if not for the mask. You could see he had changed it, probably had taken it off somewhere during all the time that had passed. It was now a full set, a devilish top with an expressionless jaw. It scared you all right.

On instinct, you tried to scoot over to the side, further away from his leaning form. A sharp pang shot through your core when you moved and you had wanted to double over – but the tied wrists and the lying position you were in made it nearly impossible to do so. Instead, you brought your tied hands to cover your stomach, flinching at the soreness you felt between your legs.

All the while your eyes never left him. You studied the way he held the blanket in his hand and how the ring on his finger glistened in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. He stood motionless, breath high in his chest.

"Did I hurt you?" Of all the things he would say, you had not expected that. The sorrowful tone of his words didn't help. "I'm sorry," here he went again with the apologizing. You bit your lip, worried about what was to come next.

The man leaned over you and gently brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. His knuckle brushed past your cheek ever so softly. Like he fucking cared.

"I tried to be gentle," his breath hitched in his throat, like he was lost in thought, before he continued. "I did not intend for it to hurt like that." Of course not, you thought. He'd been exactly like this with the boys.

"Now," he breathed, you could hear it even if you could not feel it because of that damned mask. But you heard how heavy his breathing had become. "Let's get ready for bed, shall we?"

You felt a gentle push against your back, urging you to stand up next to the bed. Then you felt him gently cup your hands in his while he studied the rope bound around your wrists. "Uncomfortable, right?" he assessed, and you merely nodded again. He gave it a slight push, the rope burning into your skin, and you hissed. A glint flickered in his eyes. Sadist. "Don't worry, I'll arrange something for you in the morning."

You silently huffed and waited for him to push you down on the bed and ravish you again. But he did neither of those things. He let the uncomfortably tight knot remain as it was, for which you hated him even more, and you glared at him as he bent over to pull at the rope, rearranging it around the leg of the bed. He made the rope shorter, tighter, so you couldn't properly move about. You'd not make it to the toilet now, let alone to his side of the bed.

"Time to say goodnight," his muffled voice sounded. Then he gestured at the floor, and you stared at it dumbfoundedly.

Saying goodnight better not be a metaphor for killing me, you thought worriedly. Would he? Would he just end it now that he had his fill?

You watched as he scooted back to his side of the bed, picked something up from the nightstand and rearranged his lamp there. All such mundane tasks. Only when he started taking off his shoes did you notice he'd been wearing brown slippers. Old man slippers. It fitted him, you begrudgingly thought. Another ordinary thing about this ordinary-looking man.

If only he was just that. He could have been a kind neighbor or an uncle. Instead, you found yourself standing in the presence of a murderer.

"Will you sleep with that stupid mask on?" You wondered where you'd gotten the nerve to ask that.

"It's not stupid," the man instantly retorted and ouch, you could hear you had hit a nerve there. He snapped his head in your direction. "Now get on the floor. Can't have you strangle me while I'm asleep, can we?"

You blinked in confusion. Did he really expect for you to swap the bed for the floor? He could not be serious, right? That'd be cold and uncomfortable. And how would you get up with your hands still tied like this?

You wondered if he could see that you were about to cry. The wetness gathering in your eyes was obstructing your vision, making it hard to see what he was doing. You knew he was facing you, then heard the creaking of the bed as he moved upon it.

"On the floor, don't look." The command was clear, and now you could see how he raised both his hands to undo the straps of his mask.

"I've already seen your face-"

"I said don't look!" He was going to take it off, but he turned away from you, then snapped off the light until the room was dark again. You could hear him fumble with the straps, then a tapping sound as he lay it upon the nightstand.

The rustling of the covers was followed by the drawing of a deep breath. Albert made himself comfortable, while you had been left with nothing to keep yourself warm.

Crying openly now, you let yourself slip to the floor. You were too tired to remain standing. Besides, your entire body hurt and your head was still aching from the drugs earlier that day. You sniffed, hearing the man stir in his bed and throw a short command for you to be quiet, then bit your lip to try and obey him.

You lay in the dark biting back your tears for what seemed like hours, until the soft pitter-patter of feet signaled Samson's arrival. A warm furry body placed itself next to you. And before you knew it, you had dozed off, Samson snug beside you.