Hope (House of wax x reader)

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ғᴏᴜʀ

Vincent had long since removed the body from the chair, and retrieved the head from the desk.  You had stopped crying, but you were anything but calmed down.  You were still panicked, but you had also realized showing it would do nothing.  So why waste your tears?

You watched as the quieter brother worked, grabbing tools, smoothing down, and shaping the now hardened wax.  He was very meticulous about it, moving slowly and using presice movements.  He had done this countless times before, it was no wonder he had mastered his art.  It was the same type of mastery he had shown when stitching your leg back up.

You were somewhat in awe, entranced by his work.  You knew it was pure evil, and yet it still looked cool.  You couldn't help but remember how impressed you felt when you first entered the House of Wax.  It was some of the finest art you had ever seen.

If only you had known just how terrible it truly was.

Vincent finished his work on the body and head, and began making his way over to a metal wardrobe.  He opened up one of the doors, and you saw some of the most intricate outfits you had ever seen in your life.  Uniforms, formal suits, midevil dresses, anything and everything.  Vincent pulled out Dalton's work uniform, but he had modified it to look like a formal outfit rather than a septic tank cleaner's uniform.

He began to dress the statue, and you quickly checked if you were sitting on a swivel chair.  Once you confirmed that you were, you turned your body so that you didn't have to watch him dress Dalton up like a doll.  You wanted to have some respect for the deceased man, it was the least you could do considering you were partially the reason he got murdered.

Suddenly, the sound of fabric moving around stopped, and your chair jerked to the side.  You were being moved.  You looked up, and saw Vincent was pulling you towards a staircase.  He set your chair by the stairs, before disappearing back into the darkness of the office you both had gotten here from.  He swiftly returned with a finished statue of Dalton, and you watched as he carried the corpse up the stairs, and you presumed into the House of Wax.

Moments later, he descended the stairs, picked you up once more, and carried you up.  He made his way through the kitchen, dining room, and into the living area.  You saw he had dropped Dalton off next to the large spiral staircase leading to the waxy bedroom, and he set you down on the stairs.  Right next to a different new statue.

You looked over, and screamed when you saw Nick.  He was sitting down, shoulders sagged, a lot like he did when he was alive.  A smirk graced his face as he gently balanced his arms on his knees, a cigarette lingering between his fingers.  He looked just like he would've been if he were breathing, and maybe that's what scared you the most.

You began trying to move yourself away from your 'brother,' only to tumble down the stairs.  You collapsed on the floor, and was still crying out in fear and despair.

"What's wrong," Vincent asked you.

You didn't answer, just kept trying to crawl away.  So, Vince did the only logical thing.  He scooped you right up off the floor.  You panicked more, but this time, you stiffened up.

"Put me down," you requested quietly.

"No can do," he replied.  "I need you to calm down first."

"Please," you begged.

Vincent just shook his head, and continued to just hold you, standing still.  It was both terrifying and awkward.  You weren't sure what you could say to get him to put you down, but you weren't sure if you wanted to get set down.  No matter where he put you, you'd be next to a corpse.  And that wasn't a pleasing thought at all.  You never thought you'd feel better about being in a killer's arms than seated on some stairs or on a chair.  But here you were.

"Hey, you two in here," you heard Lester shout.

Footsteps began making their way towards the both of you from the dining room, and you heard Lester panting, as if he had been running.

"Bo says we're in the clear.  No cops.  Also, he's gettin' us pizza fer dinner."

"Good.  I don't think I can handle any more o' yer cookin,'" Vincent told him.

"Hey!  I thought you liked my shit better than Bo's!  You fuckin' liar," Lester accused.

Vincent just shrugged, and Lester shook his head.

"I can take the kid back if ya want.  I saw you had a bit of work ta get done," Lester stated.

Without speaking, Vincent handed you off to his younger brother.  You felt like you were part of a game of hot potato today, and it felt strange.  Bo had been so intent on keeping you around, and now that he got that, no one wanted to make sure you were kept safe, or didn't run away.  Odds are, the other two were only making sure you were safe so that Bo didn't kill them himself.  And maybe, you could take advantage of that.  If they weren't paying full attention to you, and you could get them to trust you a bit, then once your leg healed up enough, you could make your big break for it.

Now you had something more to look forward to than the sweet relief of Stockholm syndrome.  You had the chance to get away.  For now, it was simply a matter of playing the waiting game.

Yeah, you could do this.  Just play pretend, get free medical help, and escape once the time was right.  You could do this.

You would do this.

A/n: Wattpad has given this, and the JD fic text to speech.  I am thoroughly confused by this.  Also, does this mean I've also unintentionally written audiobooks?