The Monsters' Favorite

Blackmail Part 1

Miserable. You were fucking miserable. Returning back to camp, you were immediately questioned by several survivors wondering what happened between you and Jake and if you were ok. It took every ounce of your being to fake a smile and lie through your teeth to them. "Of course everything's ok! It was just a little spat! Yeah, the Trapper killed me, but you know how it goes! No, it's fine, really. Seriously , it's fine . I'm just tired and need some alone time, you know?" You practically had to flee from all the prodding inquiries. It was just too much. Especially when Jake noticed you were back and had started making his way over to you. You made some half assed excuse that you don't even really remember and bolted from the main camp. There's no way you can face him. Not now. Not ever .

You made your way towards the edge of the survivors' little safe haven. Everyone has a tiny spot where they go to be alone, and there's an unspoken rule to not bother a person's little alone time area. Especially if they are already there. Yours is a tree, far enough away that you don't have to worry if someone will see or hear you cry, but close enough that you're pretty sure a killer would be able to bother you. You think ...

A portion of the tree's base was hollow, more than big enough so that you could crawl into it and even hide some stuff in it. Nothing that the other survivors could use, of course. You wouldn't be that damn selfish. Just some important personal items that you had on your person before you were spirited away into this mess . Seemed like the safest place to put it, since you were terrified of losing them in a trial. It appears that you weren't the only person to use this tree as a personal hiding hole. There were the initials B.B. , and what looks to be man made holes deep inside the hollowed truck that could be used to store small objects. Maybe offerings? You always wondered about this B.B. Who they were. Where they were from. If they're still alive . Questions you know you'll never get answers to.

You stroke the scarred bark gently with the tips of your fingers. You really like this tree. It protects you from unwanted eyes and keeps your valuables from harm's way. And it just makes you feel safe . You crawl into the opening, pressing your back flat against the wall of wood behind you. You skim the small cubby holes, making sure all your precious belongings were still there. Seems like everything's in order... Shifting to a comfortable position, you rest your forehead to the smooth, cool interior of the trunk. God, you're exhausted . You allow your eyes to slip shut. A small nap can't hurt, right..?

You doze on and off for a bit. You're not sure for how long, but since you weren't whisked off to a trial, that means either not much time has passed or you simply weren't selected for the next one. You really don't care either way. The rest is fitful and interlaced with highlights your brain has been playing on repeat since the trial with the Clown. It's more than enough to make you sick, and you wish your mind would just stop torturing you with it, already. The only one that doesn't make you want to violently vomit is your time with the Wraith. It... it was far different than anything else that has happened to you thus far. And he did sacrifice Meg and Ace, but to be fair, she did try to blind him with a flashlight and Ace did try to help Meg off the hook. It still feels wrong . Fondly remembering that trail. But damn, if he wasn't gentle with you...

Wiping some drying drool from your chin, you attempt to rub the sleep from your eyes. Damn, I feel like shit... You stretch your legs out, feeling the pop of your stiff joints. You blatantly ignore the wetness between your legs. What am I gonna do now..? The last thing you want is to go and socialize with the others. Maybe you'll just hang out here for a while longer...

Something catches your eye, hidden in one of the little holes of your tree. Huh, odd. That's not something of mine. What is it..? It appears to be a piece of something folded up into fours. But it's pretty thick to be paper... Cautiously, you reach into the cubby and remove the mystery object. It's... Wait. Is this... a photograph..? If it is, then where did it come from? Kinda on the small side, but you notice writing on the back. Oh, God... You suddenly feel sick to your core. You don't want to look. You just know that it's something fucked up... But, deep down, you know you have to see for sure. Poking your head out, you make sure there's no one around. Nope, they're all around the fire still, it seems. Sucking in a shaky breath, you carefully unfold the photo with trembling hands.

It's far worse than you thought possible. Your stomach dropped and tears stung your eyes as you came face to face with the reality of that horrible, shitty trial with those costume wearing freaks . You're on the Clown's lap, his cock stuffed in your ass. Your pussy is on display, gaping slightly and thick globs of cum oozing from it. Your entire body is covered in deep scratches and cum . Ghostface is crouched beside you, holding your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. You're smiling. Fucking smiling. Like your having the time of your fucking like. Smiling and holding up two fingers in a "victory" or "peace" gesture. You just stare at it. Stare at it like a fucking loser. In the corner, "BEST TRIAL EVER" is written in distinctive handwriting. Not yours. You don't want to know what's written on the back, but you turn it over, anyways.

CALL ME IF YOU DECIDE TO MAKE THIS A CAREER, BABE~

XOXOXO YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD STALKER

Tears fall silently from your eyes. A fucking career? Are you fucking kidding me..?! You wad the damn thing up, unable to stomach it fucking existing , anymore. They have more. They have to, right? Why did they show me this? Blackmail threat? Just wanting to make me suffer..? The worst thing about this was the fact that looking at the photo made you horny . You rub your eyes violently with the back of your hand. Dirty. You feel so fucking dirty ... You scan the tree line in front of you. Is he here? Watching me? God, you hope not. The last thing you want is for them to know they made you fucking cry. You shove the... thing into your pocket. You have to get rid of it, somehow! But, where ? Not here, you can't. You fucking can't have even the possibility of a survivor finding out about this. Shit. Shitshitshitshit! Where can I get rid of this?! Several realms have fire. But, do you really want to risk going to a killer's realm and possibly get-... You shake your head. No! There has to be somewhere I can go..!

The junkyard! Yes! That's it! You can go to Autohaven Wreckers and get rid of it there! The Wraith was the only one that hasn't completely ruined you! Yet... You yank at a clump of your hair. There are so many opposing emotions rushing through you. Anger. Embarrassment. Disgust. Self loathing. Devastation. Arousal . Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK! Fuck it! You scramble out of the hollowed tree, banging the top of your head on the entrance along the way. You let out a stream of explicates. What do you have to fucking lose? Your life? You dignity? Those are both fucking ruined . You just go there and throw it into a fire, make sure it's destroyed, and then go about your business like nothing happened. Yeah, that's what you'll do!

You beeline for that specific realm. You make sure no one sees where you're going, just in case. You need to get rid of this shit now . And if you meet the Wraith... A pleasant warmth spreads through your core. Oh, shit. Becoming even more bothered, you grip onto the front of your shirt tightly. I'm so fucked up...