Bittersweet | Ticci Toby

3 || ❝𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠❞

The male turns his head towards you with a sick crack and this all seems too familiar.

His mask shifts a little and you can probably guess that he's smiling underneath it. Although you shouldn't let yourself be fooled by his demeanour, his friendliness gets to you. You let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding and turn your head to stare at the torn body. Your spine tingles and every muscle in your body cringes at the sight. He observes this and looks downwards at his feet, where the corpse lays.

"Awwh..." He responds in a phoney, worried tone. "Is this your fhh-friend?" Mockingly, he looks up at you, pointing with his finger towards Sophie and rolling her body around with his foot. You simply remain silent in response and he clicks his tongue. There's a sharp pop sound and an uncomfortable twitch of his neck.

That causes you to shift your gaze towards him and you subconsciously tighten your grip on the kitchen knife. The tension's thick and you're starting to shiver from the cold.

"Are you th-that scared of me? Or are you just coh-coh-cold?" He giggled at you.

You step a bit closer to the scene to test the waters. Now, maybe your mind was playing tricks, but you swear that he was slowly reaching for his hatchet. His goggles and odd mask made it difficult for you to interpret his expression, but his body language suggested that he was enjoying this exchange.

"Do ah-I know yhhh-you from somewhere?" He questions with a tilt of his head, some hostility behind his voice. There's that familiar pop sound again and you could tell that he was getting more.. twitchy.

You pause between sentences, unsure if this conversation should continue. "No.. I don't think we've met before."

Something in the boy's head just clicks and there's a noticeable shift in his stance. You're not that impressed when his weapon goes flying towards you, the hatchet's head burying itself into the tree behind you. How you managed to dodge that was something for you to question later.

You give him a quick, panicked look. Some silence is exchanged between the two of you.

"Oh!" Your thoughts finally come together, and you recognise the weapon behind you. Your mind races as your heart rate quickens and you glance at the hooded male as he reaches for his other hatchet. This time though, he doesn't miss and it grazes your shoulder, leaving behind a deep injury. The wound was like a gaping hole in the flesh, revealing the torn and bloodied muscle underneath. As you instinctively clench your hand around it, your breathing comes in short, shallow gasps.

A quiet high pitched scream leaves your mouth, followed by a chant of whispered curses.

"Fuckfuckfuck FUCK," He's that fucker that threw a hatchet into Christine's head.

You couldn't think of any way to retaliate and escaping him seemed out of reach. In spite of that, you gathered yourself up and instinctively put your legs into action, sprinting away. A childish laugh echoes from behind you, but you refuse to look back.

"Oh I'm guh-gonna get you!" The goggled boy chirped loudly, picking up his hatchets.

There was obviously something strange about him.
Never mind his bizarre demeanour; something in you felt he had plenty of killing experience, and you weren't interested in putting your gut feeling to the test. Fighting back? Killing him? That is absolutely out of the question.

You can't stop running— no, not now. The blazing sensation in your shoulder was all that kept you mentally grounded. Hot blood was streaming down your arm and dripping on the ground, making you dizzy. Every step felt like a battle, and each breath you inhaled dried your mouth and burned your lungs.

Quickly, you are dodging every branch in sight while taking care not to slip with each stride. 'There will be no falling this fucking time, that's for sure.' Pushing through the abundant vegetation, you finally find the forest path. The dryness in your throat and lack of oxygen made you want to throw up— you had to slow down your pace. You had to, but you didn't. The sight of your house in the distance gave you the motivation to keep going.

You were so so close. Just a few more meters.

Removing your hand from your pulsating shoulder, you desperately grasped the backdoor's handle and barged into your house, slamming the door shut behind you. With a heavy sigh, you let go of the door handle and rest your head against the hard wood.

Step, step, step

What the fuck?

The familiar feeling of your stomach sinking set in and your instincts shouted at you to glance back.

'Turn around, turn around, turnaroundturnaround turn-'

You fully bit your trembling lower lip and slightly turned your head, looking behind you through the corner of your eye, icy sweat running down your brow as you noticed a hand reaching out to grab you.

You turned around and lunged your knife at it, watching as it pierced right through the glove-covered flesh. The brown-haired man glances at the knife tip pointing at him through the back of his hand, seemingly unfazed. He continues to press his palm forward, the blade completely passing through his hand. Clutching his fingers around the handle, he yanks the weapon away from you.

Eyes becoming wide, you tilt your head slightly and open your mouth. You're shocked—rather terrified, really.

"Goh- got you!" The goggled male beamed, grabbing your injured shoulder and slamming it against the door, holding you down.

A grunt leaves your body as your breath gets caught in your throat "Motherfucker-"

He furrows his eyebrows and messily waves his fucked up hand in front of you.  "Hhh- Hey! It's pah-payback." he sounded a bit offended. "How am I guh-guh- gonna fix my puh-poor hand up?" he giggled out.

Well, he does have a point.

You use his movement as an opportunity and snatch the knife quite literally from his hand. He raises his eyebrows while taking a step back.

"Oohh! Whatcha guuh-gonna do with thhh-that?" He puts his hands up in a mocking way, jerking his head back with an unsettling crack and pop.

"You wanna find out?" you let out shaky breath, tightening the grip around the handle.

"I've already experienced fuuh-fhh-first-hand what you caah-can do. Nhh-Not that interested." He giggles, pointing at the gaping wound in his hand. You cringe.

  Choosing to remain silent, his frame never leaves your sight as you try to think of ways to escape from this psycho.

  Stab him? That didn't seem to work. Run away? Nope. How did you escape last time? Why'd he leave your body alone? Did he think you were dead?

"Hellooooo..?" the goggled boy chirped, politely pulling you out of your trance. How sweet of him.
Burn marks on his fingers catch your attention and you stare at him, grinning oddly.

  Your ears rang louder and louder as an idea flashed through your mind.

The gas tank.