Leather Liberation// Thomas Hewitt x reader

Chapter 13: an idea

Y/n had hoped to never see the Hewitt's basement again, and yet, here she is. Right back at the table, underneath the house. Her hands are covered in crimson blood, and a paper mask covers her face in attempt to keep out the smells of the basement.

In front of her is a half finished mask, made of a real man's face. With needle and thread, she pierces it's border, sowing the ends together to a close.

Behind her, Thomas skins the rest of the dead man's skin away. Collecting the chunks of meat in a bucket beneath the hanging body.  She flinches everytime a chunk would hit the bucket with a wet "plop".

The smell of iron surrounds her, seeping through her mask and making her eyes burn. She fights a gag.

She would have never come back to the face mask, if it weren't for Thomas's insisting. His huge hands had grabbed her arm and lead her down here, pointing at the face on the table with a grunt. She really did gag then, and Thomas squinted at her in annoyance.

She finishes the border of the mask, flipping it to the inside so she can clean up the edges of the eye spaces. The pulpy, red face gapes at her, crying out in pain and anguish.  She  never wanted to see the inside of a face.

Why did Thomas want me to finish it anyway?

She thinks to herself. He had gotten really good with self esteem over the past couple of weeks, but all of a sudden, he's back to the "new face, new me" thing.

Then she remembers something she overheard this morning when hanging the laundry.

As she hung a shirt up with clothes pins, a loud crash came from the back door of the house.

"Damn it, Tommy, you fucked up the door!" Hoyt yells, holding the screen in his hands.

Y/n caught a glimpse of red stains on the screen, as well as all over the patio.

Blood.

They had caught another body. She shivered with disgust. 

Hoyt continued  to yell as he tried to screw the screen door back on its hinges.

"Ya big ugly bastard, wreckin everything in your path."

She watched silently as the screw slipped from his bloody hands, falling and rolling between the wooden boards of the patio, disappearing into the darkness below.

To This, she held back a chuckle.

"Fuck!"

Thomas later came out and fixed the door for him.

Now, she and Thomas  sat in the basement, dealing with the remains of the body .

It's likely that Thomas's sudden change in character is from Hoyt's rude put-downs.

She turns to look at him, keeping her eyes away from the hanging body.

"Thomas, is this because of what Hoyt said earlier?"

He glances at her, before looking back at his skinning.  A chunk falls into the bucket, splashing blood up onto his shirt. Y/n gulps.

She decided then that it was better than any other time to bring up an idea. Her second step in escaping, and getting her wings back. By using the bigger dog in the house.

"What if we ran away together?"

He pauses, eyes unreadable.

"Me, you. We can run to California, I can show you the bookstore, the beach. . . You've never been to the beach, have you?"

He shakes his head slightly.

"It's beautiful. We can go there! You can get away from your crazy uncle! You don't have to keep killing people!" She whisper-yells,  fearing someone could be listening from upstairs.

His eyes fall to the floor.

Y/n's hands bunch up the edge of her shirt, looking for the right words to say.

"Have you heard the saying 'blood is thicker than water?'"

He nods.

"Well, it's actually from an old proverb that went differently. "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

He stares at her in confusion.

"Thomas, get that meat up here! We're taking it to the market!" Hoyt calls down to him.

He stands, taking the bucket. He leaves y/n in the musty basement. She feels fear eat at her insides. Was he mad about the idea? Was he going to retaliate? The body on the hook swings into her vision.

What if that was gonna be her next?

But it wasn't. He came home late that night, crawling into bed next to her. He pulled her close against him. She sighed into him, glad he didn't seem angry.

An:

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