The Chance to make a Change

Chapter 13: Back upstairs

Summary: Time for bed.
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He got you out. It was weird, but he did it. Imploring you to be quiet, he made you exit the basement, handcuffs around your wrists again, the rope once more attached like a leash. You tiptoed on bare feet behind him, noticing how it must be in the middle of the night. The lights in the kitchen were on, but the blinds showed only darkness behind them.

Samson rushed over to you side during your walk through the hall. He seemed eager to see you again, but Albert shushed him before he could bark. Instead, the dog panted rapidly and circled around your legs, earning him a sneer from his master who told him to sit down. You had missed that dog.

You were led into a familiar room, recognizing the bed anywhere. The door closed behind you, leaving Samson out in the hall this time and Albert in there with you. He ran a hand through his hair, careful not to hook his fingers into the straps of the mask he was wearing. The top and bottom halves. A smile was plastered on the demonic face.

Apparently, Albert had moved some things around. There was a corner of the room, near the en suite, that had nothing in it. You could guess he was going to keep you there before he even said it. "This is going to be your spot from now on," like you were a little vase he could put on his nightstand and just leave there.

Your shoulders slumped and you nodded your head. You had guessed as much. At least it was good choice. What with you being sick for the past few days and all, this was a clever move. Now you could at least vomit into the toilet whenever you felt bile rise in your throat again. You wouldn't have to dirty the floor or his bed like this. It would save him a lot of cleaning. You knew how agitated he had become of such a chore – having seen him on his hands and knees to scrub away the bile from the basement floor when you had still been too weak to do it yourself. It must be why he had brought you up to his room again. It'd be easier for him, fewer stairs to climb and easier access to water to do the cleaning. Though you probably had to do most of that yourself.

You waited for the Grabber to make his move and chain you to the hook you recognized to be newly added to the little toilet room, indicating that the chain would be inside of the tiny room rather than Albert's bedroom. But he did not move to do that. Instead, he wrapped the end of the rope around one of the legs of the bed, then patted the bed and quietly waited for you to come to him. Once you sat down, his hands slipped behind your head, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

"I expect you," he whispered, and you noticed he had been whispering ever since he got you out of the basement, "I expect for you to be my good girl and be quiet. Will you promise me that?"

Again, you angrily thought. He had tried to coax the promise out of you before and you had escaped that, knowing you probably could not keep it because you still had plans to try and break out. But this time, there was no way to avoid answering the man. He kept your head firmly in his hands, not allowing you so much as to look away. His eyes were imploring you to answer him.

"I-I promise," you finally relented. The words felt like a betrayal as they escaped your lips. But his fingers had been digging into your skin to a painful degree and you truly feared the dark spark you saw within those blue eyes.

"Say it," he urged, and you wondered what else he needed to hear, because you had just promised him, right?

"I," you started again, feeling his grip on you tighten, his nails digging half-circled moons into your skin, "I promise to be your good girl," you finally said, words a breathless whisper.

"Mine," Albert nodded. You could not see what his true expression was, but the little noise that escaped him made it clear that he was pleased. "Now, I have to be off to work tomorrow morning," he mentioned it casually, like he was having an ordinary conversation with a friend and not a captive.