ya got napped by the knot

vii. sobering

a/n: trigger warning for violence and toxic asf corey

"Argh! Goddamnit," Corey yells in front of you. "Why is everyone so fucking incompetent? What the fuck is wrong with everyone?"

He slams his fist against the wall, making you take a step back in fear. 

"Oh, did that scare you? Did that scare you, little bitch?" Corey paces up to you. His breath smells like alcohol...shit. 

You lean back and look away, which pisses Corey off more. He grabs your face, his hand putting endless pressure on your jaw as he pulls it closer to you. 

"Listen, bastard, are you goddamn scared of me?"

You don't answer. You're not physically able to, anyway. 

"Are you fucking scared of me?"

You breathing speeds up. 

"God," Corey lets go of your face. You let out a breath and look away for just long enough to not see Corey's hand flying at you to deliver a quality bitchslap.

"What the fuck?" you take a step back, grazing your hand over your cheek. "Don't ever hit me again."

That was a mortal sin you just committed. Corey snaps at you. 

"Don't act like I can't just kill your pathetic ass right now, Y/n. I could, damnit. I'll just throw your body outside for the fucking vultures."

Another slap hits your face, and you take another step back. 

"Mm," you groan in pain. "Corey, stop."

"No, I'm not going to fucking stop!" Corey punches you in the stomach. You stagger back, coughing to regain your breath as you feel ropes being tied around your hands again. Corey pulls the ropes so you fall on your knees while tears prick your eyes, blurring your vision even more. 

The room is dark, you can barely see, and all there is is an angry, uncontrollable Corey. Some instinct makes you sense Corey's fist coming at you again, so you abruptly turn your torso to the right. Corey's hand makes contact with the wall and you hear a brutal crack. 

And that crack wasn't the wall. 

You receive another slap on the face from Corey's non dominant hand, along with more berating for dodging the punch. He soon stomps up the stairs to the main floor, leaving you alone in the basement. 

You wriggle your wrists against the rope to see if you can loosen it. The one advantage to having a pissed off person tie you up is that they don't have the clear mind required to actually keep you trapped for long. The rope around your wrists offers too much resistance to free yourself by loosening it, so you begin to feel around the knot. It only goes once around your arms and the knot feels pretty simple. If you remember anything from that one survival documentary you watched years ago, you should be able to reach around the back of the knot and push the loose end in while tugging on the body of the knot. 

Considering you can't see what you're doing, the process takes a good amount of time, but you do eventually free yourself. Your wrists are red and raw by the time you're free, your knees are bruised, and your sure your face is...fucked. It doesn't feel like your nose is broken, though. 

As you stand up, what just happened replays in your head. What made Corey so angry? He might just be an angry drunk. Why did he take you down to the basement? Why did he mention killing you? Did he intend to kill you? 

Regardless, that was...sobering. 

You stalk up the stairs, hoping no one would see you as you sneak off to your room. 

After three hours of trying to sleep, you go downstairs to the kitchen and get yourself a snack. As you shove a handful of froot loops into your mouth, you realize how much of a mistake it was to eat a crunchy food with sore cheeks and jaws. 

Oops.

You finish the mouthful because froot loops are delicious before rummaging through the fridge to look for some fruit or something. 

"Hey, Y/n. What's got you up so late?" Paul's voice asks on the other side of the fridge door. 

You close the door with a container of raspberries in your hand and Paul releases a little gasp. 

"Holy shit," the bassist grazes his hands over the bruises on your face, making you wince in pain. "What happened, doll?"

"Corey Taylor," you reply flatly. 

"I'm so sorry. I knew he was mad today, but I didn't think he was...this mad," Paul mutters. "Are you okay?"

"In what respect?"

"All of them."

Oh, see now you're like, obligated to be honest, right? What even is there today? 

"I don't know...I mostly feel numb, except for the fact that my face hurts like a bitch," you shrug. 

"No doubt, love," Paul squeezes your shoulder. 

You split the container of raspberries with the bassist as he talks to you and offers some distraction from the general shittiness of your situation. You gotta admit, you've forgotten how much you absolutely adore this man. He's so gentle and good-natured. Kind of like Jim, but warmer. 

"I'm so sorry, Y/n, but I'm exhausted, I gotta go to bed," Paul yawns. 

"Ah, right," you nod. "Well, do you mind if I stay with you?"

The bassist smiles at you. "Of course." He leads you to his room upstairs and down the hall from yours. 

"Come here," Paul pats his chest as he lays down, so you cuddle into him with your head laying on his chest. His heartbeat lulls you to drift off within minutes.

...

whoa i wrote angst? oh my gosh 

thanks for reading :)