Dead By Daylight [OneShots]

Vittorio Toscano X Reader X The Knight [P4]

I woke up with a heavy head, and still tired. But the only reason why I was up was the terror. It refused to let me rest. For the first time in a long time, I realized my eyes welled up.

I was finally experiencing the terror I felt I had overcome. The fear I had become used to.

The feeling was ugly. Uglier than the sights I had seen.

Even though I woke up terrified and shaken, bruised and broken inside out, I oddly felt comfort. Comfort of warmth. The remains of my dress laid in a corner, grubby. I was lying under thick robes, thick long red and blue robes. The feeling of fabric was alien, but they were considerably soft and thick enough to shield me against the cold that dared to touch me in the stony chamber.

The room was a little brighter than the last time. The weapons I had felt disgusted at the sight of were no longer there, albeit the blood was still smeared onto the walls. A single claymore, a clean one, was kept leaning against the wall in the corner. I didn't know the room had a fireplace, for it was lit, albeit the flames were considerably weaker than expected. Still they were sufficient to keep the warmth and the light intact.

The bed I was lying upon wasn't the stony cold bed of prison cell. It was a big strongly built bed of wooden frame, a little too big for me to note. As if the horde of men slept in same bed. And it was hard to feel, the mattress was indeed there, but too constricted and compact to feel. I presumed it was so because it had stayed there for so long that the upholstery that kept the fibre intact within had shrunk over the time.

It didn't smell bad, even though it was probably quite old, older than my perceptions. It smelt of smoke, the essence, the smell of cotton or paper burning. That, coupled with wool, and strangely, dewy grass, and some dust. All of the contents of this odour was found in the room, and it was oddly nostalgic.

Underneath the quilt of a robe draped around me, I wasn't entirely naked, as I had feared. He had ripped my clothes off with a ferocity I feared, but I wasn't harmed in any lecherous manner I had expected from him. I was bruised indeed, from the brawl, but nothing more. My undergarments were untouched. Instinctively, I touched my crotch, nothing felt out of the ordinary.

The bandages that had gotten torn by him briskly pulling the blades out, they were tied neatly again. The gesture struck me as odd, I had half feared to have gotten violated when unconscious. My fear and suspicion subsided with the discovery that I was most probably spared out of his sense of dignity that had somehow survived within him...or maybe it was just the luck that he got pulled into a trial before he could do anything despicable to me.

Strangely, it wouldn't debunk the fact that I had old robes draped around me, and not just hastily thrown at me.

I had just stood up, when the footsteps approaching the room caused me to sit back, pulling the robes securely around me. He calmly knocked onto the door, but entered five seconds afterwards when I gave no answer. His helmet was facing me as he stopped by the door, having found me sitting sternly and staring at him.

I was afraid of his presence, for his mystery was yet to unravel, and I was suspicious of him as much. For some time he eyed me as I locked eyes with him, frowning, then gradually looking down. The moment we broke eyes, he entered the room. This time, he didn't slam the door behind him, nor he locked it. Outside, I could hear lighter footsteps roaming around the hallways. He approached me calmly, and I was hesitant indeed. Immediately, I scooted away from him, but it didn't bother him.

He put the clothes he carried with him calmly onto the edge of the bed, and walked out, once again not slamming the door. However, once he closed the door, he locked it from outside. I could hear it.