Welcome Home, Little Thief (Dark SBI)

Chapter Three- Backhanded Victories

A/N

hello! finally back after a solid week of writers block when it came to this story. When I say I struggled to write this chapter I mean it lmao

anyways, hope you enjoy! sorry for the shorter chapter than usual and apologies for any mistakes <3

TWs: just wilbur being a Not Nice Person, similar to the last chapter

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Personally, Tommy was sick and fucking tired of the mental backlash his mind was giving him whenever he woke up very quickly.

On one hand, he felt the safest he ever had in his life. The world around him seemed to scream that he needed to stay, that venturing outside of this dim room would lead to almost certain death. That the chains wrapped around his leg were merely a safety precaution rather than a cruel method to keep him contained in this seemingly-peaceful room.

That this was better than before.

He'd never gotten sounder sleep in his life, not even before his family had turned violent. Surely, the voices told him, it couldn't be that bad?

He'd promptly told them to shove it up their ass.

No matter what they said, Tommy reminded himself just how much he wanted to murder the first person that stepped through the door; his kidnappers. The people that had stolen him away from the semblance of a life he had just managed to begin building up, who had managed to make his entire world collapse in the casting of a single spell.

He hated it. He hated them.

He had never believed anything more in his life, or, at least, he tried to convince himself of that.

But he had bigger things to focus on rather than his undeniable hatred.

This was the first time Tommy had woken out without Wilbur in the same room as him, mind bleary as he registered the absence of a presence next to him. The chain was still securely in place around his foot as he pushed himself up, wishing for a bucket of water to dump over his head if it meant he could wake up faster, or even just shock him into doing something rather than internally fight the figments of his mind.

It felt like his brain was almost slow, as though his thoughts couldn't quite process in the same way they usually did.

Like something was taking root and forcing them to slow down.

But this very well may be the only free time to himself that he has for the next...days. He knew he needed to use it wisely before Wilbur came back and cast some fucked up spell over his mind, dooming him to the same drunk state he distantly remembered being trapped under.

Tommy shivered at the thought and quickly threw the blankets on his bed back, inspecting the silver chain that was wrapped around his ankle. A faint tug on it led to a sharp pain that raced through his foot, making him immediately drop the metal. The skin was a bright red, skin peeling back from the force he'd first used upon waking up.

He mentally slapped his past self for his carelessness and rash panic.

But, then again, he doubted there was a world where he wouldn't panic.

A sharp huff of air fell past his lips as he flopped back against the headrest, pushing his hands roughly against his eyes in an attempt to stop an outflow of despairing tears.

His head fucking hurt. Like someone was drilling into his head, ripping his thoughts in half until he couldn't make a single logical decision.

He wanted to go back home, pathetic as it was.