Hope (House of wax x reader)

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

Bo carried you down the stairs, and Vincent jumped up from his spot on the couch after seeing the two of you.  His hands started moving around furiously, and you recognized it as sign language.  You began to regret never learning this form of communication, seeing as how it would've been quite helpful in your current predicament.

But, you also could've sworn you heard Vincent talk.  You knew he had.  You had heard him demanding Bo move when going to stitch up your leg.  But if he had a voice, why did he need to talk through his hands?

Lester ran right past Bo, into the kitchen.  Vincent kept signing away, and you saw Bo staring at him, glancing back and forth between the stairs and his twin's hands.

"No, I will be checkin' it out later," Bo told his twin.  "I guess you'll jus' have ta take the kid then."

Vinny looked at Bo, then at you, then back at Bo.  Then he began to sign even faster, and almost angrier.  Now you really wish you knew what he was saying.

"Look, I don't give a damn," Bo stated.  "Just... you or Lester take the kid, 'cause I need to go make sure we don't gotta deal with cops."

And with that, Bo had reached the floor.  He carried you through the game room you had hid in when you were in here with Nick.  He went into the kitchen and past a doorway, leading to a dining room.  As you passed through the room of culinary arts, you saw Lester making scrambled eggs and toast.

Bo sat you down at one of the chairs at the table, and took a seat next to you.  Soon enough, his younger brother came out with a plate of food for you, along with a bottle of ketchup.

He set them down in front of you, before making his way to the doorway, leaning against the wall.  Soon Vincent appeared, watching from behind Lester.

"So kid, you gonna eat or what," Lester asked.

"How do I know you're not trying to poison me," you retorted.

"How many times do we have to say it," Bo groaned.  "We're not gonna kill you!"

"You're lying!  You killed Carly and Nick, and Wade, and Blake and Paige, and Dalton, and god knows who else!  Why wouldn't you kill me?!  Just get it over with," you told him.

"Oh my god," Bo muttered.

"Kid, if we wanted ta kill ya, wa woulda done it already," Lester informed you.

"Look, I don't have time for this.  You two watch the kid," Bo said, standing up.  "I need to make sure no cops find this place."

And with that, he grabbed a shotgun next to the door, and made his way outside.  You looked at the other two men, and Lester sighed and shook his head.  He took a seat across from you, and Vincent began to walk off.

"Where ya goin' Vinny?  I can't be trusted to do this alone!"

"You'll be fine," Vinny stated.

Then, he disappeared, most likely going down to the underground tunnels to finish his work.  He had a body in the chair that was probably cooled off enough for him to move and refine.  He still had two bodies that had to go in, so he needed to pick up the pace.

"Can you please eat?  Bo's gonna get mad at us both if ya don't," Lester informed you.  "Here..."

He quickly stood up and scurried off into the kitchen, swiftly returning with a fork.  He sat back down across from you, poured a shit ton of ketchup on the plate, and stabbed some of the eggs.  He dragged them through the red sauce, and quickly began eating.

"See?  Not poisoned or anythin.'  You'll be fine."  

He pushed the plate further towards you, but you just stared at it.  You still refused to eat.  Lester sighed again, and just grabbed the plate.

"Fine, can't force ya to do nothin.'  Just don't tell Bo."

And with that, he left to go wash the dishes.  You used your good leg to push your chair away from the table, and tried to stand up.  You put your weight on the stitched up limb, only for your knee to give out.  You grabbed the table to stabilize yourself, and you heard dishes clattering in the sink.  Lester came running in, and you realized you weren't escaping any time soon.

"Why would you do that," Lester shouted.  "You shouldn't be movin'!  Why would you fuckin' do that?!"

Vincent soon came running in, looking between you, and the brother that had been shouting.  He quickly put two and two together, and began to make his way over.

"Maybe trusting you was a bad idea," Vinny muttered.

"I tried to warn you," Lester reminded him.  "Man, maybe kids aren't a good idea around here."

Vincent grabbed your arms, and quickly picked you up pack-strap style.

"You know what, it is your turn to watch 'em!"

And with that, Lester made his way back into the kitchen to continue cleaning.  Vincent carried you right through the kitchen, the game room, and right down the hallway.  He made his way into the office, used his leg to open up the trapdoor, and descended into the tunnel system with you on his back.  He made his way into the workshop, and right to his little desk next to the chair. You looked at the headless person sitting there, positioned to look like they were kneeling, and holding something.  You looked at the desk you were seated next to, and saw a head covered in wax.

Vincent made his way over to the chair, and began to expertly remove the pins and strings that was holding the body up.  He had done it a million times before, there was no reason for him to falter.  But he did.

What had distracted the artist?

Sniffles coming from his chair at the desk.  He peeked over, and saw that you had rubbed off the wax concealing the poor victim's eyes.  You had realized you were looking at Dalton, and the full gravity of your situation had begun to set in yet again, seeing as you had begun to piece together some new clues.

They were keeping you here, alive.  They didn't do anything to Carly for the 'grandbabies' thing, they were going to kidnap you.  They had killed your siblings and your friends, and forced you to live with the survivors guilt.  You were trapped.  Most likely forever.  And while you had the sweet relief of knowing Stockholm Syndrome would most likely set in and make you feel more at peace, you were also terrified that you'd soon be manipulated into trusting the killers.

You'd never talk to Michael again.  You'd never see Roy or his fiancé, or find out if they got married and had a happily ever after.  You'd never see the faces of your adopted parents again.  You were stuck here forever.

There was no hope for you.

A/n: KETCHUP IS DELICOUS ON EGGS, AND ON MAC N' CHEESE, AND THESE ARE HILLS I AM WILLING TO DIE ON.

Also, why did this blow up all the sudden?  I just log on one day and this fic's doing pretty well with pretty much every tag.  I am #5 in a genre full of stories you need to pay for, written by professionals.  How the fuck did this happen, I thought the fandom was dead?!

Also also, I am sick, and my leg hurts for no reason.  Please help, I'm 16, I shouldn't be having random bodily pains over literally nothing.