Five Ticks 'Til I'm Yours (Dark Ticci Toby x Reader)

15

Waking up to find yourself still on the floor was what solidified just how alone you were. The part of you that thought Toby cared in some shape, way or form died the moment you felt the dried blood under your head, reddening your hair. You left a puddle on the floor, a wet, sticky puddle that you slipped in the first time you tired to get up. Now on your knees, you saw the bruises on your arms and legs, and with each discovery the pain kicked in. It was a heavy, aching pain, the type that settled into your flesh and burned. It was hard to see, it was dark actually, the light that once emanated from the door turned to darkness, giving way to slight hints of moonlight.

You attempted to stand up, but your ankle immediately gave way and you found yourself on the floor for the third time, your hands landing face down in the puddle of blood. How had you not bled to death? Luck probably. Some luck that was.

He left you here.

He didn't even bother carrying you onto the couch. No, he just left you here.

What were you supposed to do now? It hurt to move. You couldn't move. You didn't want to move.

A list of priorities came to mind, the logical, well thought out part of you told you to get up, go wash yourself off, get a drink, eat something, go rest somewhere. But you didn't act on any of these impulses, only finding the strength in yourself to crawl away from the stairs and towards the living rooms couch. Your arms strained as you put weight on them, threatening to crack as you gritted your teeth, letting out a small cry when your ankle hit the floor too hard. The feeling of carpet under your hands gave you a firmer grip, and you quietly noted the bloody handprints you left as you yanked yourself onto the couch, slowly turning onto your back before sighing out in relief.

You were lucky not to have suffered brain injuries. You were lucky that a couple of bruises and a sprained ankle was all you had endured. Lucky. You didn't feel lucky.

Laying there, you stared up at the ceiling, the pain in your body was overloading your head, each nerve trembling as it delivered message after message to the brain. All saying the same thing, 'do something, it hurts.' You closed your eyes, clenching them tight as you exhaled sharply. It didn't lessen the pain. Instead the world just seemed blurrier as you opened your eyes. What were you going to do now? How were you going to get out of this? A plan, you needed a plan.

It was impossible to think with such a splitting headache, but there was nothing else you could do. You need to keep busy right now. Try to distract yourself from the pain. So, think, scheme, plot, plan. Toby, Jeff, Jack, Tim, they could all be killed. But how? Maybe you could burn them, you hadn't tried that. Bullets and knives are out of the question. Drowning maybe? What about decapitation? Suffocation? Electrocution? Then again, how would you ever overpower Toby? How would you ever overpower any of them? Impossible.

What about seduction? It didn't matter anymore though. You had successfully seduced the man, yet it didn't seem to be doing anything for your health. It didn't matter if he liked you, which he did, it wouldn't stop him from hurting you. You didn't fear his death threats, he wouldn't kill you, he hadn't killed you yet. But how could you live like this? How would you ever return to normalcy?

Unless you could kill him, there only was one other way.

You had to change him. He once told you he wasn't here by choice, he clearly doesn't enjoy his job, he clearly doesn't want to do any of this. Maybe you could loosen the bonds that kept him tied to his duty. Maybe you could make him want to leave all this behind. Maybe he'd take you with him. Maybe.

The door opened.

"Where'd she go?" you heard Tim say, his passive-aggressive voice ever so familiar.