Under Control (Ticci Toby X Reader)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

My eyes shot open, my lungs begin to inhale and exhale rapidly, and I felt something tickle my neck.         As my vision blurred into color and became a tad bit clearer, I tried to jerk a limb. Something. Something to feel free. However, I couldn't move anything. I felt paralyzed. That's when I started to almost hyperventilate as I feared the worst. It was what had to come next. I screamed, more like shrieked. Surely, it had some type of damage to my lungs as I felt a harsh sting cling to my throat and lungs as I shrieked. 

        The screamed I created, hoping to sound like something other than what it had: which, of course it sounded like a plea for help as I sounded desperate. Then again, maybe I was. I wanted help.

        In a jerk, in an instant, in everything that just occurred in that minute, It was all quickly dismissed as I flung forward onto my feet as something cold brushed behind my neck, sending goosebumps over my arms and neck. Life came back to me. As I had flung, I whipped my arms out in front of me, quickly clashing with the ground. I was standing apparently.

        "Ahh, shit!" I yelped as a feeling of sharp pain came from my forearm. However, the pain was gone before it happened; it was replaced by the shooting pain that sourced from my hand. I grimaced at my hand, biting my lip. It no longer was wrapped with the gauze and its fresh wounds from the glass frame were now on the dirt of the ground.

        I hissed, retracting my hand and gradually balanced myself to get up. I felt all shaky from the tips on my fingers to my ankles.

        Now, I had fully got my sense back. As then, I realized my jacket was missing and I was left in a plain (f/c) t-shirt. My jeans were stained with mud as if I was doused it in from the waist down. But I was now able to know what had hurt my arm. Raising it to my view, I saw the blood dripping down my arm. It sourced from my hand, yet, under my arm was nothing. Which confused me as I knew I felt something. It could of been my imagination at the time I suppose.

        Then, weakly, I scanned my surroundings. I was outside of a home. It was quite familiar; however, I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Daddy!" I heard a shriek from the house. I instantly laid eyes on the small, young girl who wore a face full of fear.

        "What did you do!?" She yelled, almost screaming as she started running at me, her little legs getting the best of her as she held onto a closed umbrella.

        "What?" I looked behind me.

        "How could you!" She yelled, almost to me. Her father's body lied on the ground behind me. He was the father I had beaten up at least twice before. How hadn't I notice this? Something wasn't right.

        With the umbrella in hand and tears on her face, I felt the twinge of a heart wrenching feeling. Had I killed her dad?

        The small girl tried her best to give a good whack at me with the umbrella, which ended at my shoulder. I didn't fight back, just stared at her in the eyes, watching her anger shoot me.

        "I hate you!" she yelled as a couple of neighbors went to see what was going on.

        "Oh my god!" I heard another cry, this from a neighbor. A short woman with her hand over her mouth, pointing at the body, urging her husband to come out of their neighboring house. "Call the cops!"

        "I hate you!" the little girl repeated, whacking me with the umbrella as I kept glancing at the new found attention and the body. I wouldn't fight back- not to a kid.

        I wanted to say something, I wanted to cry, I wanted to run, but I froze, paralyzed at everything. 

        I heard another person yelling, "Call the cops, Hubby!" Then a man came charging over to me. I was the prime suspect of the dead body, wouldn't I? I had blood from wounds, it dried down on my arm and some still liquid. The blood on my shirt was just a dead-giveaway.

        I flung to the other side, the man missing me by a hair. He ushered the little girl away, who retreated to her father's side. This man was buffed up in pure muscle and he looked menacing just by a glance.

        Did I mention this was in daytime?

        I heard sirens off in the distance. 

        In one sharp and keen move, I was in the ground. The man held me down, holding my arms in a lock and using his legs to trap mine. I tried to kick, punch, anything to release me from his lock on me. The sirens were getting closer.

        Then I remembered.

        I did kill him, I killed him in cold blood. I remember walking here, it felt like I had to, like I was being controlled to. I held a sheathe that held a helluva sharp knife. And I remember, I stabbed him and dragged him out here. I remember finding Amy and saying we should walk. I killed her. I dropped her in a ditch. I remember crying and chuckling as I walked somewhere. I had passed out.

        I killed what was important to me.

        And I waited, feeling almost dead. I felt dead, like I was rotting away. I awaiting death's door. It was so agonizing until I heard running of shoes over to me and a radio off an on. I was lifted onto my feet and felt no need to put effort into walking. I was cuffed. I was arrested.

        In minutes, I was shoved into the back of a police cruiser. I was awaiting death's door.

        My head leaned against the window, hating the feeling of dirt on my face and the metal cuffs that connected my hand to the door. How far was I going? We were in an empty road, it was eerie, and tall spruce lined the road. 

        I casted my eyes onto the officers in the front, they were talking but I could not hear it as for the soundproof window between me and them.

        And, I felt happy and angry at the same time as I heard ringing. I felt like I knew what was going on. Death was awaiting.

(Boop!)