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

18

There really was no way to win.

You try to cooperate, you get hurt. You try to fight back, you get hurt. You try to lay low and mind your own business, you inevitably get hurt. The pattern was far too clear and now the only question was how hurt you'd be getting this time? Would this be a tumble-down-the-stairs kind of incident, or more of a well-there-goes-my-pinky-finger-guess-I-didn't-need-it-anyways. Maybe it would be more sexual in nature, but then against this was Tim and not Jeff. That's a good thing, right? You were now weighing the pros and cons of sexual assault versus long-winded torture.

What you knew for sure though, was that you were on your own. No one was coming to save you, well not for a couple of hours. Could you survive a couple of hours with Tim? It wasn't looking too good so far, especially considering the man had a knife to your throat. You had to get him talking, keep him occupied and distracted. But could you manage that for hours? No, probably not. But at least it would buy you some time.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked the first, basic question that came to mind. "What did I ever do to you?" Honestly though, what had you done him? You had smacked Jeff around with a lamp one too many times, hence his hatred was justifiable. You had chucked an axe at Toby, so even he was somehow entitled to his bursts of vengeance. But Tim? You hadn't done anything to the guy. Why did he hate you so much?

"I hate your kind," was his sharp response, bitter and sharp as he drew the knife down your throat, blood pooling beneath it. "Fucking garbage, weak and selfish." He was speaking in rather general terms, but the way he said it, the way the very words seemed to shake- this man was very adamant about his feelings towards humanity.

You tried to think of a smart reply, but the only word that came out was, "Hypocrite."

"What was that?" he hissed, the blade of the knife suddenly twisting, pressing into your jugular but not quite breaking the skin just yet.

"Your preying on those that can't defend themselves," you half-heartedly growled the words out, honestly tired of his bullshit. If you were going to die, then you weren't going to do it groveling. "There's nothing weaker than that."

"I'm going to kill you." Was his grim response.

"I'm not afraid of you," was your snarky reply, though in truth you were terrified. He probably knew it too, the way he scoffed, the way his angry eyes seemed to see right into your soul.

"You shouldn't lie," it was his turn to growl an irritated, malicious growl. He sounded evil.

"Go to hell," but you were too proud and angry to care right now, thrashing and squirming underneath him, trying to gain some form of leverage. He didn't even give you a chance, backhanding you hard enough to make your jaw snap into the floor below, a few teeth definitely loosening. You felt a sudden ringing in your ears, your vision blurring for a second as you gasped at the almost familiar sensation of another concussion.

"Feisty little thing," he grumbled, "This is pathetic, I feel like I'm all talk, here I am acting all monstrous, but what have I done to you? A few papercuts? A little smack? Someone like you deserves better." He moved away now, the weight of him suddenly disappearing from your stomach, allowing your lungs to finally refill with air. You were too dizzy to fight back as he dug a hand into your scalp, his fingers tightening around the hair as he dragged you onto your feet. "You deserve the worst," he added in a lower, more ominous tone, pushing you forward.

You barely managed to catch your footing, the dizziness in your head subsiding as adrenaline began to take over. It didn't matter though, you immediately felt the blade of the knife nipping at the small of your back, ebbing you on as you took a step forward, then another. He led you into the kitchen. You felt another sharp push and found yourself grabbing the dining table for balance, sucking in a quick breath before quickly turning to face him.