"When you take away one's primary tool of communication, all that's left is your body language, your eyes, your motion in your face. . ."
-Andrew Brynarski on becoming "Leatherface"
Y/n stirs. There's a thundering pain in her head. With a whimper, she tries to open her eyes. To her surprise, only one will open. The other seems to be crusted closed.
She raises her hand up and rubs at the eye. Finally, the eye peels open. When she looks down at her hands, their stained with dried blood.
All at once, her memories about the festival night hit her like a bullet train. She tries to sit up but is immediately struck by the thundering pain in her skull again.
I need to figure out where I am
She thinks to herself. Slowly turning her head, she strains to look at her surroundings. She's laying on a wooden bench in a room she doesn't recognize. It's cold, dark, and smells horrid. Like sewage and metal.
Around her are a variety of tools, a chainsaw, hammers, nails, a sowing machine, knives, an axe, and God knows what else hidden in the shadows.
Something swings in the corner of her eye. She tries to turn to it but is met with the thundering pain once again. Whatever it is is hanging from the ceiling, and it's big.
Her heart starts to pound in her chest. She stiffles a scream, unsure of what it would bring from the lurking shadows.
A door swings open and she hears heavy footsteps coming down stairs. Her thoughts start racing. Her heart pounds like Death's fist on her front door.
To calm her thoughts, she starts thinking of words that start with the letter L.
Linger
Love
Loiter
Lingerie
Lie
Lacking
Leather
The footsteps stop at the base of the stairs, approaching Y/n slowly, as if unsure. The figure steps out of the darkness, revealing the Tall, Bulky man named Thomas Hewitt. The one she met only two weeks ago. On his face, he sports his new mask she made for him, the one of leather.
He makes eye contact with her and she chokes down a scream, instead producing a fearful whimper.
"What's going on?" She asks, choking on tears.
Thomas doesn't answer, he instead pulls out a wet wash cloth and comes closer to her. She flinches when his big hands grab her head. His touch is soft, though unwelcomed nonetheless.
He wipes off the crusty, dried blood from her face. He's completely silent as he works, but Y/n continues to try and get answers.
"Where am I? What are you gonna do to me?"
Thomas pauses for a second, before putting the wet cloth to the side. His hands linger on her cheeks, before getting up and walking out of her field of vision.
"Thomas! Get up here!" A voice calls from upstairs.
The big man stops what he's doing and starts walking up the stairs.
"Hurry up, ya big idiot! I can't carry in the bodies myself!"
Bodies? Shit.
She starts to gain her strength back, enough to be able to sit up. Thomas has gone upstairs to deal with the bodies.
Out of fear, y/n takes her chance to hide. She plans to escape when she gets the chance.
Thomas grabs two bodies out of the back of the truck, one in each arm. With his hips he throws open the front door.
YOU ARE READING
Leather Liberation// Thomas Hewitt x reader
FanficY/n is a mask maker reopening her family business in Texas town Poth after years spent away in California. A rather unfortunate meeting with a cannibalistic family is about to change the way she sees her life. This is purely me using an obsession as...
