Night of Terror - Bob Velseb x Reader

CHAPTER 2 - PART 2

!WARNING!

Blood, Gore, Blades

Your face is pale and your lips are quivering. You resemble a madman; tightly tucked in a corner in your basement with your knees practically bound to your chest. You were shaking; terrified and shocked - your experience from just an hour before never washed itself from your mind. You couldn't bare to look at the door just above the small staircase, because you knew he was still there. His pounding footsteps patrolled the doorway - and you had no idea of what to do.. how to react; you didn't feel safe in here because you knew he'd find a way inside; and you knew that he doesn't give up on those he sees as victims because he never has. He's chased everyone to their inevitable death, and you won't be the last to fall prey to him.

Silent cries escape your lips once more; you just wanted to have fun tonight, hang out with Lila - but not only did you upset her, you also lured a cannibalistic murderer into your home of which you believe has full intent to slaughter and eat you. Do you deserve this? Maybe, maybe not. All you know is that you don't want this; you don't want to end up like the rest of them, so your only option is to beg and cry out for a miracle that will never arrive.

A knock on the basement door catches your attention and you spin your head upwards to stare with glossy eyes; your cheeks stained from fresh and dry tears - and then it knocks again.

You aren't going to answer. You know what's going on; that he's waiting for you on the other side. His knocks become more violent as time passes, eventually shifting into full on banging before retorting back to eerie and dreadful silence. God, you hated every second of this. There wasn't a singular moment that you could recall that was minimally decent - a moment you felt safe. Because in all honesty, even before it struck twelve, before this 'incident', you had already gotten a bad feeling.

You wrap your arms around yourself as some form of self-comfort, despite it being practically useless - considering your sobs and sniffles never stopped. You turn to your right, glancing at the empty shelves and boxes that lay scattered across the dirty cement floor. Maybe you could find something inside of them? Even if you doubted it, it was still worth a shot - and you didn't really have anything else to do. You stand from your position on the ground and advance towards the shelves and other various items that you deemed uninteresting; taking one of them in your hold after you'd partially dusted it off. You peeled the cardboard off the top and take a gaze inside; the only thing being visible being the wide variety of dusty books and cleaning equipment. Sighing, you close the lid back up and settle the box back on the shelf, making your way towards the next. This one seems to be filled with more useful items; such as a couple, wrapped up box cutters, a few pans, small bolt cutter and even a crowbar. Your eyes slightly sparkle; though you avoid grinning, reaching into the box and gripping the crowbar tightly in your left palm. You test it out, swinging at the air in front of you to make sure you were properly equipped, and didn't need to switch weapons. You give a small, approving grin to no one but yourself as you swing; seeing that you were decent enough to get a few hits in gave you a bit more hope of escaping.

You turn back around, but instead of returning to your corner, you face the doorway; a determined look sprawls across your face as you make your way each up step - all of them groaning and creaking beneath your weight. You knew he was still here. He had to be.

Slowly, you unlock the door and let it fall open; allowing you to glance through the doorway - but no one is there. You furrow your brows and advance, crowbar tightly gripped between your two palms; held out in front of you like a bat. Your breath hitches when you hear rustling behind you, and you quickly spin around, only to find that that same sound then became audible behind you. You spun around again, starting to panic somewhat - how was he doing that?

Just as you were about to call out; try and say something, perhaps scare him off, something leaps from behind you and tackles you to the ground - the additional weight pressing down on your back causing you to yelp; it was crushing you, and it didn't seem like he was going to move anytime soon - However,  you manage to spin over onto your back and face him, shimmying your hands from beneath him, crowbar still in your grasp, you harshly whack him on the head; causing him to go in a brief daze and groan out in pain; clutching the spot where you'd struck. You continue trying to hit him with the crowbar; a stupid idea, because he eventually stops you by grabbing it and bending it in two, throwing it aside somewhere next to the kitchen entrance. He scowls at you and pulls out his own blade. Just as he goes to pierce it through your flesh, you block it with a hand and cry out in pain when it strikes your palm; eyes squeezing shut - he tries to push it down towards your face, but you push back with all your strength, despite how quickly he was beginning to overpower you. The tip of the blade was so close to your eye, and you knew this wasn't going to end well. Just as the blade strikes down with an insane amount of force, you roll your head to the side to avoid the attack, and he rips it from the ground, as well as your palm, which makes you hiss through your teeth; though, you aren't quick enough to evade his next attack, too distracted by the white hot pain in your palm. As he brings the blade down on your chest, you barely have enough time to scream; you choke on your own words - your pleas, everything gets caught in your throat at once as blood flows from the corners of your mouth. Tears reform in your eyes; and he seems to finally get off of you, allowing you to clutch the gaping wound in your chest. Like a deer caught in headlights, your eyes remain wide and unblinking; both of them locked on him.

A few minutes later; your vision begins to fade into black - you feel drowsy; dizzy and sick. It doesn't take too long for you to lose consciousness; arms loosely clattering to your sides.

(1141 words)