Night of Terror - Bob Velseb x Reader

CHAPTER 3 - PART 2

He's gone. The very moment his footsteps fade away you let out a long-lasting sigh and slick down the head of the bed, shutting your eyes for a brief moment. You were so terribly uneasy it was making you feel ill; why did he leave? It's not like you would have wanted him to stay, but it made you curious. Perhaps you had said something? Though the only thing you recall saying, or, asking, was for him to just get it over with. You're kind of disappointed that he hadn't settled on that, because now you're stuck in here.

You open your eyes again and finally glance around the room that seemed to have lightened up. The curtain-less window gives a clear view of the moon outside and  allows you to at least be able to inspect your surroundings; which you do without hesitation - just before the bed sits an old, chipped wardrobe that seems to be missing a door, as well as its hinges. To your right was a desk with a mirror, where you could just barely make out your appearance. Scratches littered your face; as well as bruises, and your hair was an absolute dump. You looked terrible, and although you didn't exactly care at the moment, you made a mental note to take a shower when you got out of here. IF you got out of here.

To your left sits a strange tattered box; it looks like there's actually something inside - you can see the shimmering of metal just beneath the cardboard lid. Perhaps that could be of use? Whilst you heavily doubted that he'd leave anything in here for you to use, it was a possibility - you'd just need to gather the courage to sit up and walk over - brace the pain and not let it drag you onto the floor, because you're sure he would probably hear that. With a strained grunt, you slowly lift your back and try your best to sling your legs over the side of the mattress , sluggishly pushing yourself forward with all the strength in both your lower and upper arms, eventually slipping off the bed and almost falling to the floor - but you catch yourself just in time, hanging on the rim of the bed for dear life. Sighing, you force yourself to your feet and clench your jaw with insane force; slowly making your way towards the left of the room - towards the box that you so desperately wanted to open. It was strange how you kept finding these crates and boxes everywhere.

It takes you quite the time, but you finally manage to reach your destination - buckling down onto your knees and gripping the structure, you pull it towards you and peel off the paper lid; eyes scanning the interior for anything useful. It's filled with metal scraps, cotton and other unidentifiable objects - but something catches your eye. A rope? You immediately glance towards the window, then back at the rope. An idea pops into your head, and without closing the box, you lift yourself up with a grunt and slowly limp towards the window, placing your good hand on the handle. You try to lift it; though its stuck - it won't and you huff through your nose, spinning back around to face the box. Luckily for you, that hadn't been your only idea. You kneel back down and pull out the rope, slinging it over your shoulder before positioning your hands in front of one of the larger metallic scraps, gripping it with your good hand. You shakily stand again and make your way back towards the rusted window, "This better work.." , you mumble quietly, sticking the metallic scrap beneath the window and then pushing your weight down onto it with your hands in hopes to lift it. It takes an ungodly amount of time - it quietly protests and screeches, but the window's rusty structure finally complies and lifts itself just enough so you can place your hand beneath it and pull it all the way up. Glancing outside, you can actually see that it had begun to rain - and that you definitely weren't at your house anymore. In fact, you had no idea where you were; because surrounding what you could only assume was a shack was a thick, shadow-covered forest. You feel slightly hopeless - I mean, even if you were to escape, what'd be the point? You didn't even recognize this place, and going into a forest in the middle of the night in the rain didn't sound exactly pleasing. Though, it's better than waiting for him to show up again - you didn't want to get turned into a burger or something. You tie the rope together and latched it around the window handle, tugging on it to make sure it was secure enough before throwing it down through the window, watching as it struck the water-soaked grass below. You gulp and clench your teeth, white hot pain seeping through you as you try to lift your legs through the window. It burns like hellfire, but there isn't much you can do about it - you want out, and if this is what you need to do, you have no problem with it - because it's certainly better than whatever he has planned.

You finally manage to swing your legs over the edge and duck so you can fit your head through. You take hold of the rope and brace yourself in case you were to slip and fall; but as you spin and snag it, you quickly press your bare feet against the cold wooden wall; almost slipping due to how drenched it was. Rain quickly begins padding down onto you, so you try your best to be quick. Just as you were about to start climbing downwards, you hear the jingling of keys and a look of panic spreads across you face in under a second. The door slams open and you begin climbing down, but you know he's seen you because his heavy footsteps are ragefully charging towards the window. He grips the rope above of you and manages to tear it, causing you to let out a shocked scream as you begin to fall down at rapid speeds - you curl up in hopes to reduce the damage, though once you strike the ground your breath hitches and you roll onto your side, clutching your stomach; you'd fallen flatly onto it, and luckily, didn't manage to worsen your wounds. He's already left the window as you stare upwards, and you know what that means.  Shakily rising to your feet, you face the forest.

This was going to be hell.

(1121 words)