The Chance to make a Change

Chapter 9: Going Down

Summary: You get your own room.
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"You're coming with me."

Surprised, you watched how Albert sat on his knees beside the bed, unwinding the rope that had limited your movements. He had been awfully quiet since his angry fit earlier today, and you had lamented the fact that he had left to go to work without giving you any breakfast or soda.

The mask he was wearing carried a frown. You knew he had chosen it on purpose and that it matched his emotional state. A state you had implored on him when he had wanted nothing but to hold you this morning. You shouldn't have let his name slip. It was never used in the movie, that should have been a hint.

"Where are we headed?" you carefully asked, voice small and barely more than a whisper. You looked at him coyly, uncertain of what you could and could not get away with right now. Anything might set him off. He evidently was still angry at you.

"You'll see," now that didn't promise anything good. Something dark and heavy coiled in the pit of your stomach, a sense of foreboding. Was this the end? You slowly got up and followed his lead as he tugged at your wrist, his hand resting slightly above the fluffy handcuff.

Samson swirled in front of his feet, walking from left to right and back again, obstructing his path a couple of times. He didn't seem to grow angry about it though, just held his step and waited for the dog to be out of the way again. You thought he really liked Samson and hoped he liked him enough not to kill him if things got rough.

He guided you out of the room, whispering soft advice such as 'be careful now' and 'don't trip', as if he cared about your well-being. Was this all just another manipulative game of his, you wondered? You stumbled because you felt weak from the lack of food, and he caught you in his embrace again. When he helped you forward, it was by holding you by the arm, and you let him. You leaned on him, needed him for support. Even when you saw where he led you to. The kitchen first, your eyes upon the basement as soon as it came in sight.

The door stood wide open, like a dark and gaping hole.

"No," you knew your voice sounded weak, but every fiber in your body wanted to resist what you knew was about to happen. "No." You sounded firmer now. Definite. But even so, you were still leaning on Albert for support. And he nearly dragged you along with him, down the creaking staircase, and into the ever familiar decor of the movie it belonged to.

He threw you onto the mattress. It was dingy compared to the one he had in his bedroom. You could feel each and every spring, like it was worn down, its sell-by-date long since expired. You winced as you tried to sit up, only to be pushed down by Albert who surprised you by taking the handcuffs off.

"Won't be needing these here, love," he waited till you sat up. Your wrists were sore and you carefully brushed your fingertips past the red skin. Despite their fluffiness, red lines had formed around your wrists and you hissed when you touched them. "Isn't this an improvement," Albert said when he saw you were studying yourself.

You looked up at him, then glanced around the room. It was horrid how familiar it looked. But somehow, this was different from the movie you had watched. There was much more detail here. You could see each and every crack on the soundproofed walls, felt the coldness seep into your bones, and smelled the damp rotting musk. You huddled your arms around you and pulled your knees up, not caring if that meant he could see your naked skin down below.

Albert cocked his head at the sight, clearly taking you in. Then he tusked and took a step away, now standing in the middle of the basement.

"I made you a new room," the Grabber raised his hands, gesturing at the basement around him. The chipped plain walls, the dirt floor, the little barred window raised up high, and the black phone which was the only object within sight.

"Look at all the space you've got." It sounded like a good thing, but it made your heart drop. You were brought to the basement.

Which had previously been occupied.

This meant that the boy had gone.

You had failed him. You had taken too long in finding a means of escape after having fallen a victim to the Grabber yourself, and now the result was this. He was dead. Gone. Buried in the opposite house.

He had been alive when I got here, you could not stop the thought as it raced through your mind. You reached for your head, as if you could pull the nauseating thoughts out. I could have saved him. No. I should have saved him.

"Where," you stuttered, lips dry and throat constricting whilst tears threatened to come forth in your eyes. "Where has he gone?"

You half expected Albert to shout at you again for asking this. He had never said that he had kept a boy down here, after all. Just that it had been occupied. He had also told you not to ask him any questions again. But you did not care. You were at the lowest point that you could get, figuratively and literally. If tears had started to stream down your face then so be it. You expected that crying would not last long.

Albert tilted his head to the right, the elongated mask pointing dangerously in your direction. "Ah, that is not something you should concern yourself with, little girl," still those patronizing nicknames. As if he took delight in making you feel smaller than you were. "I made this room to be yours alone, after all."

And you wondered why he had? In a way, you had fantasized that he might bring you into his basement at one point. But you'd always imagined for the boy to be there as well so that you could figure out a plan together. You knew each boy came up with an idea to find their way out, and you were severely lacking ideas for an escape.

But sitting here now, all alone, on the dirty empty bed, watching the Grabber chortle happily in the midst of the room with his hands still raised – it was too much. You buried your head between your arms, resting your forehead on your knees while you tried to curl into yourself.

"Now what's that?" Albert's mocking voice sounded. "Tears?"

You managed to glare up at him, teeth gnashing in order not to say anything that might set him off even more. How you wanted to make painful remarks to him. But you knew saying such things would not make you feel any better. If anything, they'd probably only worsen your situation.

Albert closed the basement door before he stepped closer to you. His knuckle was gently upon your cheek again, brushing away a tear you had not noticed to have escaped you.

"We can't have that, can we," he gently cooed. You hated the way he cocked his head with the mask still on. It made him look all the less serious. Like a demon toying with you, a cat playing with the mouse before he finally bit down. "How about this," Albert said, bringing the mask closer to your face again as he leaned over you. "I have just the medicine."

You didn't need to see it to know what he was doing. The sound of his zipper was enough. You closed your eyes and tried to pull your head away, unwilling to look this murderer in the eye. But he tusked and didn't let you. His left hand grabbed your chin, the cold metal of the ring on his finger sent a shiver down your spine.

"Don't look away now, sweetie. We are celebrating. This is all for you, after all." You looked up again, only to find him ready, cock heavy in his right hand. "Open up, sweet girl."

And so you did.