random stories

Texas Chainsaw Massacre - Thomas Hewitt x Male OC/reader (not finished)

Where does one start a story, really? At the beginning, right? But how far? Birth? Perhaps in their childhood.
Corey’s story starts on a chilly autumn evening. Well, for Texas it was chilly. Corey had only just finished his working hours, seeing as cleaning up after the workers in the slaughterhouse wasn’t exactly easy.

Time and time again, he had to stare at Thomas, who paid him no mind. Deciding to talk to Thomas was something Corey had never even thought about long enough to turn it into action.

The chatter faded as Corey mopped up the blood around an empty table, cringing each time Thomas brought down the knife with power and precision. Corey gulped, checking his watch. He needed to be home in an hour if he wanted to keep his hide.

“Uh…” He started, clutching the mop till his knuckles turned white. “Thomas.”

Thomas stopped mid-swing, looking over at Corey.

“I hate to rush you, but I’ve got to be home soon and I still need to clean your station…” He said, stepping a bit closer. He assumed this had to have been the bravest attempt in his life. Thomas nodded and packed up the meat quickly. Corey hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He didn’t let out a large puff of air until Thomas had left. By then, his cheeks had turned a rosy scarlet.

——

Corey rose to the sound of a rooster’s call. It wasn’t irregular to have chickens in Texas, even though the slaughterhouse mainly worked with cow. Corey frowned, eyeing the time.

Six-Fifty. He noted to himself, dully. He got up and started to put on his work clothes, fishing the pockets for money. Corey found seven dollars (mainly in change) and started off to work. On his way, he stopped at the gas station to get a breakfast sandwich.


Corey gripped the wheel on his way to work, other hand holding the sandwich up to his mouth. He ate carelessly, keeping his eyes on the road. Pulling into the driveway, he parked his car and gathered his things. Once inside, he stopped into the main office to check in.

“Mornin’, sir.” He said, taking his paper to clock in.

“Corey. Just the man I wanted to see.” His boss grinned. “I wanted to let you know early that we’re closing up shop tonight for good. I want this place cleaned up real nice, okay? You can come in early tomorrow if you want or you can stay late. Up to you, kiddo.”

Corey nodded, and began to walk down to the stations, a frown etched onto his face from concern. Closing shop? But what would he do now, he was not certain. Corey stayed late, wringing out the mop for the last time. Corey wiped the sweat from his brow, switching to the broom instead. He started to sweep up wrappers and stray cord, all the while, the steady thump Thomas created from carving each piece of meat in half made Corey’s heart jump.

Once again, gathering the little amount of bravery he had, Corey walked over to the tall man.

“Thomas?” He asked, mainly trying to grab his attention. The man looked at him, bright brown eyes reminding Corey of chocolate. “We’re closing today… remember?”

Thomas looked at the clock and nodded, beginning to pack up his things. Corey started to clean Thomas’ work station. He looked at the time briefly.

“Shit.” He said, rushing to put the cleaning materials back. He locked the door behind him and opted to finish tomorrow.

As he was about to leave, he saw Thomas walking down the road, his shoulders sluggish from the heat. Corey got in his car, driving it down the road, slowly.

“Thomas!” He called from his car. The man in question looked up, pausing. Corey stopped the car. “Do you wanna ride?”

-

The drive was long and silent, Corey tried to start conversation, but Thomas just didn’t look interested.

Corey decided not to push it much anymore. Thomas tapped Corey’s shoulder, pointing to a large white house off the road a bit. “Is that your house?” Corey asked, making sure he didn’t drop Thomas off somewhere random. The larger man nodded, sitting back in his seat that creaked under his weight.

Corey pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the house. Thomas didn’t move for a moment.

Suddenly, Thomas pressed the release button and Corey’s seat belt flew off. He grabbed the shorter man, dragging himself roughly out of the car on his side.

Now, Corey was beyond confused and in pain. Surprisingly, though, Thomas held him gently now. It still did little to sate his fear.

He was brought into the house and Thomas set down the meant on the table. A stout woman turned the corner, and stopped upon seeing a man in Thomas’ arm.

Corey’s fear was steadily growing; the only thing that kept him from struggling was all the times he watched Thomas handle a knife.

He wasn’t certain if the man himself was violent, but he certainly did not intend to find out.

“Tommy?” The stout woman questioned. Thomas let out a jumble of noises that she seemed to understand to some extent.

“M-Ma'am? Thomas?” Corey questioned, craving his neck around to look the woman in the eye.

“It’s Luda. Luda Mae.” She smiled, heartily. “Now what brings you here…?”

“Uh-I well, my name is Corey. I noticed Thomas was- WHOAH!”

Thomas hoisted Corey up in the air, setting him firmly on his own two feet.

“Thanks… Well, I noticed Thomas was walking home, and I offered to give him a ride.” He frowned, remembering his lay-off. “Not to mention, both of us got fired. All of the workers did. They’re shutting down the meatshop. I’m out of a job and- oh my god, I’m out of a job!”

Corey reached for the roots of his hair, tugging as he paced nervously around Thomas. “They laid you both off?”

The blonde paused his panic to nod.

“Oh! What am I going to do? Da-Dad’s gonna kill me!” By now, Corey had forgotten what he was doing. “I’m sorry! I need to go home.”

-

Corey swore he hadn’t ever driven home so quickly. He did all of his chores and even cleaned the house.

He didn’t know when his dad would be home, but knew he’d probably be angry when he did.

Corey cringed at that, despising the way his father got under his skin so badly. Just as he had been sweeping up some dirt, the door opened. Corey rushed to finish and he threw the remaining dust into the trash can.

His father’s workbooks echoed behind him. “The house is cleaner than a baby's rear, boy. You think I’m stupid?”

Corey's frown deepened. “No, sir. Just wanted to break the news as softly as I could.”

He turned to face the burly man he called his father. The man was tall and worn. He had worked in the fields ever since he could walk. His entire being was covered in dirt and manure. His father sniffled, bit down on his toothpick, and shifted his weight onto his good leg. “So what the hell did ya do?”

“The meat factory is closing tomorrow. For good. I have to go in and clean, then I’m out of a job.” Corey shuffled his feet, but didn’t break eye contact.

“Sit down.”

Corey complied faster than he knew he could. His father groaned as he sat down, the chair – muck like his bones – creaked with the sudden action.

“I could line you up with a job in the fields, but I don’t want you ended up like me.” His father sighed, a weary, distant look clouded his hazel eyes. “I’ve been treatin’ ya too rough, son. I… I want ya to have a good life. Yer ma' boy.”

Corey was … stunned. Was this really the same man? His father?

“I could look for a job in town.” Corey offered. His father shook his head.

“You best stick to something that’s not hard on yer back. Pickin’ cotton and hackin’ at wheat paid the bills, sure, but it’s certainly done a number on me.” He grumbled.

“Yes, sir.” Corey agreed, thankful his father hadn’t raged out on him. “I’ll do it first thing after sweeping up tomorrow.”

“You do that, son.” He patted Corey’s shoulder. “Now cook sumthin’, I’m starved.”

“Oh, right!”