Bury the Hatchet *Ticci Toby x Reader*

Forced Entry.

[I don't take credit for the original cover photo, or any art I use. All credit goes to original artists, and I just get these off Google.]

I sat, staring dumbfounded at my phone screen. It was the only thing illuminating my face, as darkness had engulfed the night. All was silent, my family asleep. I felt at ease, my thick blankets warming me, while I drank hot tea. Soon, sleep began to grasp me, and I could finally doze o-

What was that? It sounded as if someone was downstairs, grunting. I quickly stood, turning on a flashlight app, on my phone. Light shimmered, bouncing off objects and the walls. I slowly made my way out of my room, peering down the stairs, into the foyer. Nothing seemed to be wrong, but fear wrapped itself around me as the sound of footsteps echoed up to me. I quietly stepped onto the stairs, avoiding every spot that would creak, turning off the flashlight. I stopped before reaching the last step. I don't have a weapon.

As quickly as possible, I slipped onto the cold, wood floor. I stooped low, sliding into the kitchen, and picking up the filleting knife from the knife holder, as I ducked under the counter. It wasn't very sharp, but it would definitely protect me from the intruder. My head peeked over the counter, seeing a tall figure. I couldn't make out any of their features from the back.

They twitched and grunted once again. They were alone, but they whispered something to themselves every few seconds. I couldn't understand what they said, but from the deepness and gruffness of their voice, I could tell they were male. I waited for some more time, watching as they examined the decor and items, which were in a neat mess on the opposite counter.

"S-Stand up." I heard the man say. I didn't understand, until he turned to my direction, pointing at me with a rusty hatchet. Gradually, I lifted myself, gripping the knife tighter in my hand. "You weren't s-su-supposed to know, this wasn't planned..." after a moment of his silence, he advanced on me. By instinct, I slashed at him with the knife, only to be grabbed. He twisted my arm, forcing me to drop my defense, then he pulled my arm behind my back, grabbing me in a choke-hold. I gasped for air as the man forced me backwards. "I wasn't given instructions, s-so I have to take you with me. Don't s-sc-scream, and follow all my instructions, or die. Do you understand?" After I hadn't answered, he gripped tighter. I felt his heavy breath on my neck, his long, matted hair brushing against my cheek. "Do you unders-s-stand?" He hissed into my ear. I gasped out a yes.

Without another word, he pulled me to the counter. I no longer had a weapon, nor did I out-strength him. He quickly grabbed one of my hammock's ropes, tying it around my wrists. Next, I was gagged with a clean hand towel, and he used a black sweater- which had been sitting on the chair -as a sack, throwing it over my head. Tears had streamed down my face, staining my cheeks, and soaking into the towel, but I kept quiet, in fear.

He soon dragged me outside, pushing me into the back of an old car. The car sped off, not losing any time to escape.