Chains (Jeff The Killer X Reader)

Chapter 1

It was a cold, winter evening. The clouds covered up the suns warm rays, the brittle chill gripping everyone in the area with its merciless claws. My family was impacted the most in the winter because of our... problem. Poverty hit us hard, smacking us into streets.

I was so young when my dad had come into my room one night, telling me to pack clothes and to hurry. I speedily gathered my stuff, shoving it into a bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

After that was a flash, moving out of the apartment and living in the streets. I couldn't remember much, only the gnawing hunger that constantly reminded me of our unfortunate life.

It was about a year later when a man visited our city and spoke about our overpopulation.

"It's becoming a big problem!" he smacked his hand on the podium for emphasis, the crowd murmuring in agreement.

"Because of that, I have a plan. We will rid the state of the homeless, and we will THRIVE!" Unexpectedly, everyone cheered loudly, whistling and hollering in support for the man. I watched from the shadows, emotions swirling in my gut. I turned to my mother, who was watching with concern in her eyes. She pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Come on, let's tell your father what's happening," she whispered into my ear. We quietly fled to my father. Our 'home' wasn't much.

Just a dark alleyway that no one visited often, with some torn cushions and boxes lying around. My dad sat on a box with a bonfire lit, warming his hands by rubbing his palms together.

He looked up when we approached, smiling his sweet smile. But the smile didn't stay for long though. When he saw our nervous faces, his happy expression faded into a concerned one.

My mother rushed an explanation, while I curled up on a cushion nearby. I remember watching my frosty breath, amused by the smallest things, then falling asleep.

I awoke later that night, a startling crash causing me to yelp and sit bolt upright on my cushion. Heart rate increasing, I watched as 4 scary figures grabbed my arms. I screamed out for my parents, thrashing about in the stranger's arms.

The dark silhouettes grunted with effort as they dragged me along with them. I was desperate to wake anyone nearby. I let out a high pitched, ear-piercing screech. One of the shapes smacked my cheek, hard. I stopped screaming and struggling. It was so quiet you could hear a needle drop a mile away.

So peaceful for such a horrible event. It was pitch black, and the only thing I could see was the icy breath of my captors as they threw me into what I thought was the back of a truck. I took a deep breath, ready to release another shout, but one of the figures quickly slapped a cloth down on my mouth. That was the last thing I remembered before waking up in a hellhole.

***

I rubbed my eyes, reality fading back into vision. If was honest, I didn't really want to wake up.

It was dark when I opened my eyes, but that was just the usual. My eyes never adjusted, even after all the days spent here. Or was it weeks? Maybe months? Years? I didn't even know.

This place was the definition of torture. Every day I would wake up in this darkness, then they would unlock the restrains around my ankles and wrists, and brutally yank me from the cell.

They would lead me through a dim lit hallway and shove me into a cage. After that, they would pick out what arena they wanted me to fight in, or if I was unlucky I would have to do the maze.

See, the point of this place was to make the homeless people go insane. We were to fight wild animals or serial killers every single day in an arena, or if we're unlucky, we will have to escape a maze defenseless while running from our competitor.