FANCY *•.' 𝐅𝐍𝐀𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄.

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

Slight claustrophobia warning !!
~~

When Fancy woke up, her heart dropped almost immediately. She was in a familiar place, though, not a good familiar place. Most people are comforted by familiar places, but not this one. Fancy tried to scream, that's when she realized. She realized quicker than before because it was sickeningly familiar. Her lips were sealed. With duct tape. Again.

Screaming against it would do no good, but she did anyways. It was an instinct. Tears were in her eyes, her vision was blurry but there was not much to look at anyways. The trunk of the car was dark, no light whatsoever. It was like she was in a coffin, buried alive. She would have thought she was if not for the lulling hum of the engine and the vibrations it sent through the body of the car. The carpeted sides of the trunk, humming against her skin.

Panic set in. Small spaces bothered her, it boiled down to the last time she was kidnapped. Every time she was in a small space it brought back terrible memories to that night. But this was worse than memories. She was living it all over again, her worst nightmare. She remembered the terror of last time, not knowing if she would survive, being certain she wouldn't.

Her chances of survival were nearly 30%. She had thought she had won, she had been so sure. So proud. So confident. She was wrong. There was no winning for Francine Jenkins in the end, she only lost. Over an over again. She lost in 1993 when she was taken, she lost in 1995 when her mother was taken, and now in 2000, she was loosing again. She was taken. Again. It was happening all over again. Not again. Please not again. She pleaded.

She hoped to wake up, for this to all be a dream. It wasn't. It never is when you want it to be. The car came to a stop. Would she ever see Mike again? Abby? Ness? Anyone? Anyone who was not the monster parking this car? This was her time, she had escaped death all those years ago and now it had finally caught up with her. Her payment. Her toll. Can you cheat death twice? Probably not. Fancy wasn't sure about those odds, but she was sure they were slim.

Slim but not none. There was still a chance. A slim one, but a chance nonetheless. And a slim chance was all she needed. She had a leg up on this, she had gone through it before. She knew how this worked, the whole kidnapping thing. She was going to get out of this. And this time, this freak was going to face justice for his crimes. The trunk swung open. It was dark and he still had his hood on. Fancy couldn't see him but she narrowed her eyes at him nonetheless. Hatred pooled in her gut as he reached down and threw her over her shoulder.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Déjà vu. That's what they called it, wasn't it? When you've seen this all before? Yeah, well, that's what Fancy was experiencing as this man walked up to an old abandoned house in the woods with her thrown over his shoulder.

This had all happened before and it was happening again. He stepped inside, crossed the threshold, sealed his fate. Whatever you want to call it and headed down stairs to a basement. Okay, this part was new. But it wasn't a problem really. Just stairs.

"This time no one will hear you." He spoke. She knew that voice. She hated it. But something was new about it this time, something familiar? And not just because this was the same man who had kidnapped her before. He sat her down on the cold floor of the basement. He taped her wrists behind her back to a support beam. He stepped back to look at her, to admire his work.

Fancy had so many words she wanted to say to him but her mouth was still taped shut. He removed his hood and- Mr. Patrick? From the interview tape? Ness' father?

No, couldn't be.

"Hello again Francine." He said, it was definitely Mr. Patrick from the interview tape there was no denying. He looked the same only older. Lines clear on his face as he grinned down at her, his prize. "We meet again."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

He removed the tape over her mouth. Finally. She let out a breath, shaken and furious.

"Fuck you."

She said almost immediately. "Ah ah ah." Mr. Patrick scolded her as he bent down to her level. "Don't wanna have to cut your tongue off because you can't control it." He said, his face inches from her. She spit on him, on his face. "Go to hell." She snapped and he chuckled. "Oh this, now this is perfect." He wiped the spit from his face.

"When Afton told me you were here, I couldn't believe it. It was too perfect. The chance to complete my work, to finish what we started back in 1993, was it, my dear?" Her nose twitched as she narrowed her eyes up at him.

"Now we're quiet are we?" He knelt back down to her, removing a knife from his pocket of his dark hoodie. Fancy's eyes widened as she looked down at it.

"No." She breathed. "Relax, my dear, I'm not going to kill you yet, we're just getting started." He said as he pressed the flat of the blade across her skin, not harming her, but letting her know the knife and the threat of the knife was very very real.