Twin Paranormal - Ryan x Reader

Is this the end?

The sharp edges of the tape dig into my wrists, every slight movement sending a jolt of pain through my body. I tug against the binds, but all I achieve is a deeper bite of the coarse fibrous tape into my skin. My back aches from the cold concrete floor, and my legs are sprawled awkwardly beneath me, bound tightly together. I can barely shift my weight without causing more discomfort.

The garage is dimly lit, a single, flickering bulb casting erratic shadows on the walls. The faint smell of motor oil and old gasoline mingles with a sharper, more metallic scent that I can’t quite place. I glance around, desperately searching for something—anything—that could help me escape. The old workbench, scattered with tools, seems like a distant dream right now.

Fear churns in my stomach, an anxious knot tightening with every creak of the garage door or distant sound from outside. My breathing comes in quick, shallow gasps, each exhale mingling with the creeping anxiety. My mind races, trying to recall any survival skills or escape strategies, but the panic makes it hard to focus.

I try to call out, but my voice is nothing but a muffled quiet sound, under the tape, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the garage. Every sound seems muffled, distant, as if the walls are closing in. My throat feels dry, and I struggle to keep my composure, knowing that losing control will only make things worse.

Time drags on, the seconds stretching into what feels like hours. I close my eyes, trying to calm my frenzied thoughts, but it’s difficult to ignore the sense of vulnerability and isolation. I know I have to stay focused, keep my wits about me, and wait for the right moment to act. But in this dim, suffocating space, hope seems like a distant, fading ember.

As I struggle against the tape, the thought of missing my shift at the cemetery cuts through my panic like a knife.

Oh no, I’m going to miss my shift. Mandy will be so worried. I’m going to lose my job. How long have I been here? What time is it? Did I miss the whole shift already? They’ll think something happened to me. They might even call the police. What if they don’t find me in time? What if I’m stuck here forever?

I can’t afford to be fired. I’ve already missed so many days. What if they think I’m just flaking out? I need that job—I need the money. If I’m late, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for. My boss will be furious. And if I’m not there, who’s going to cover for me?

I have to get out of here. I need to find a way. There must be something, anything, I can use to get free. I have to get to my phone—if I could just reach it, I could call for help. Why is everything so far away? I can't keep this up. I need to stay calm. I need to focus on getting out of here before it's too late.

Why does this have to happen now? Why does this have to happen at all? Ryan's probably out there, living his life, completely unaware. I said i wouldnt answer if i was working so what if he knows not to call me.

What if he finds out about this through social media or a missing persons report? I don’t want him to think something terrible happened and be worried or scared but at the same time i want him to help me so bad.

I should have told him how I felt before this. What if I never get the chance now? Sure I mean I have slept with him and it's evident that we have chemistry but I’ve been too shy, too unsure to really open up to him and tell him how I truly feel, and now I’m stuck here, and he doesn’t even know. What if he was planning to come visit soon? He could have been thinking about it, and now this.

I don’t want him to feel responsible or guilty. It’s not his fault, and I don’t want him to worry or be dragged into this mess.

The garage door creaks open, and my heart leaps with a glimmer of hope. I squint through the dim light, and there she is—the sweet older woman with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. For a moment, I think maybe she’s broken free and is here to help.

But as she steps further inside, carrying a cup of tea or something similar, my hope quickly fades. I notice the glint of something metallic in her hand—a tool, or perhaps something worse. My stomach twists with a mix of confusion and dread.

“Hello, dear,” she says, her voice smooth and comforting.

I try to talk but the tape just causes me to muffle.

She places the cup on the workbench, and her gaze lingers on me, assessing, almost as if she’s savoring my fear.

I try to stay calm, but her warm smile feels unsettling.

“How are you holding up?” she asks

The kindness in her tone does nothing to ease my anxiety. I realize now that this woman is not here to rescue me but to maintain control and i think is infact the kidnapper.

My breath quickens as she moves closer, reaching for the tapes binding me. Her touch is gentle, but there’s a cold precision in her actions. Her calm demeanor makes my skin crawl.

“Don’t be frightened,” she says, though her words only deepen my sense of dread.

“I’m here to make sure everything goes smoothly. I’m afraid you’re not quite ready to leave yet.” She continues.

My hope evaporates as I understand the truth—this woman, despite her outward appearance of kindness, is part of the nightmare I’m trapped in. Her presence feels oppressive, her actions deliberate. As she starts to adjust the tapes, the contrast between her sweet exterior and her true intentions only makes my fear more intense. I know now that I’m still far from free, and the weight of my helplessness crashes down on me like 1000 knives into my chest.

"You are quite popular, you have had many missed phone calls" she said unnervingly

I tried to beg to her, plead to her to let me go and I wouldn't say anything but all I could do was mumble.

"Now, now, hush dear, you need to save your energy for later" she said, stroking my hair.

"Now, if I untie you dear, you mus'nt scream, shout or make any noises. It will only make things worse" the woman replied, walking over to a table and showing me a taser.

Reluctantly I comply by nodding my head. The woman walks over to me and strokes my cheek with her hand, sending shivers down my spine. The woman slowly peels the tape off my mouth causing pain either side of my cheeks where the tape was pulling at my skin.

My mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of the nightmare unfolding before me.

“What... what’s happening?” I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady, though fear makes it shake.

The woman’s gaze is almost serene as she starts to untie the tape, but her touch feels like it carries a sinister intent.

“You’re here to help with something very important,” she says, her words dripping with an unsettling calm. “We need you for a special ceremony, a ritual that requires someone like you.” she said looking at me calmly and smiling.