Leather face / Thomas Hewitt x Reader |More than friends|

Part 19 |Desprate Measures|

It was the only thing keeping me somewhat sane at the moment. Despite the light illuminating the little fort I made, I fell asleep.

    This went on for a while. Thomas would come down in what I guessed was the morning - as there was no natural light in the basement - with some kind of breakfast. Usual toast and eggs. Then in hours later in what was probably the evening, he would come down once more with dinner.

Each time he brought me food, he would sit and watch me eat. When I was done, he would take the dishes and rarely ever come back until my next meal, or when he thought I was sleeping.

I would try to talk to him, but he would never respond.

When I cried he would avert his eyes or just leave abruptly before I could finish my food.

It was a nightmare.

Judging by the amount of times Thomas had brought me food, I assumed it had been about 9 days when I decided I'd had enough.

The basement light flicked on, signalling it was time for my breakfast.

Thomas came down the stairs, plate in one hand, cup of water in the other. He placed them in front of me, as per usual, then sat in a chair far enough away that I wouldn't be able to reach him.

I didn't touch the food, or the water. I just glanced at it, before staring straight at him, a stoic expression on my face. He seemed confused. When a few minutes had gone by and I still hadn't moved to eat, Thomas stood up. He took a couple strides toward me, crouching in front of the plate and cup. He slide the plate towards me, the ceramic scratching on the concrete. I shook my head. 'Why should I' I thought angrily.

He grunted, picking up a piece of toast and ushering it toward me. "No." I said sternly, then practically sealing my lips shut. He was frustrated, tossing the toast back on the plate. He huffed and went upstairs.

I almost felt childish acting this way, but given the fact I was being held against my will, I couldn't care less.

"Why should I give a rats ass if she's eatin' or not?" I heard Vilmers voice boom from just outside the basement door. 'Shit.' I heard Thomas yelling incoherently, this was typically what he would do when upset or stressed. "Alright, alright!" Vilmer yelled back. This wasn't good. "But you gotta stay up here and let me deal with it... my fuckin' way." This really wasn't good.

"No..." I gasped quietly to myself. I debated eating up the food, but I knew I had to stand my ground. I began to pull on the chain with as much force as I could muster. The cold metal hurt my ankle as I pulled hard, but it was necessary. The chains rattled loudly as I relentlessly thrashed my leg. "No, no, no!" I kept whipping my leg around until Vilmer came down the steps.

"Now what do you think you're tryin' to do, hm," he sounded amused.

I stood up, my other ankle still wasn't good, so all my weight was on my bruised ankle attached to the wall. I grabbed the chain in both hands and attempted to pull it out of the concrete wall. Vilmer let out a throaty laugh. "No!" I cried as he slowly moved toward me, "fuck you!" I kept pulling. "Don't fucking touch me!" I shrieked as he ripped the chain from my hands and pulled it roughly toward him. Causing me to fall directly onto my back. Knocking the wind right out of me.

"Eat." He spoke as I gasped for breath.

"Fuck... you," I said between wheezes.

He knelt down onto one knee, grabbed the back of my neck and lifted me up. With his free hand he picked up a piece of toast. "Neither of us wanna be doin' this right now, so just open your god damn mouth and eat!" He raised his voice in his annoyance. I held my slips shut, moving my head any time he brought it near my mouth.

He let go of my neck, wrapping his arm around my neck in a tight chokehold. "Get off of me!" I said through gritted teeth, continuing to wriggle. He put the toast down and went for the cup. Thinking quickly, I kicked away with my bad foot. The water spilled all over the floor and the food.

"Fuck!" Vilmer cursed, "Thomas Brown Hewitt, get your ass down here right now!" He hollered. If he had yelled any louder I probably would've gone deaf.

Instantly I heard Tommy's heavy footsteps barrel down the stairs. When he got down there, I noticed Vilmers grip around my neck loosen, so I bit into his arm. Hard. He yelled and tried to tear him arms away from my mouth, but all he did was add to the pain as I took out a small chunk of skin.

"Bitch!" He stomped on my broken ankle. I didn't scream, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Though I couldn't help the single tear that slid down my cheek, past my now blood covered mouth. I spat out the chunk of meat and grimaced. Vilmer laughed, "If you like the taste of flesh that much, you should ask Tommy what you've been eating for dinner!" His eyes were wide and his laugh grew crazier.

"What..." I stammered, looking up at Thomas.

"All that chicken, or beef, or pork you've been eating... think about it!" Tommy shoved his brother, "what?! It's the truth."

I wretched, feeling the bile racing up from my stomach.

"Can you guess who it was by the taste?" He licked his lips, getting closer to my face. "Huh?"

"You're lying..." I chocked. But I could see in his eyes that I was horribly wrong.

"Come on!" He egged me on, "guess!"

I began muttering nonsense. "B... b..." I couldn't say it.

"Spit it out!" He yelled, "b... b... Billy!" He laughed the whole time. I scrambled over to the bucket I had been using as a bathroom, and emptied the contents of my stomach.

"Leave," This was the first time I had heard Thomas actually speak in days. His voice was low and gravely. "Now." I heard Vilmers footsteps ascending up the stairs, then the slam of the door.

Thomas placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I swatted it, backing away from him. "How could you?" I managed to say, "you've been making me eat..." I felt more vomit coming up as I tried to speak. I swallowed it back down, "I've been eating... human meat..."

Tommy shook his head no, but how could I believe him after the surety in Vilmers eyes. "Different meat," Tommy said, looking into my sad eyes, "not human."

"But Vilmer-"

He cut me off, "doesn't know." He paused for a moment, collecting the words, "I made different meat... for you," I weary smile appeared under his mask.

He got up and found a cloth. He dabbed it over my mouth, wiping away his brothers blood from my lips. "You really did that?" I asked. He nodded briskly. "Thank you," I wanted to smile at him, but I just couldn't seem to.

He finished cleaning up the mess I had made, then brought away the plate and cup. But didn't return.

Despite Tommy's acts of kindness, I couldn't stay here like this. I still had to get out. But I don't think I will be able to hurt Tommy to do that.

Word Count: 1200+