Trapped In The Basement ×Ticci-Toby X Reader× {SLOWER UPDATES}

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Chapter One:
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(Y/N)
Trapped

You wrapped your thin grey sheet around your shoulders and huddled in the corner of the basement, underneath the monotone clock on the wall and is constant ticking.

Your eyes trailed over to the shackles on the old worn out table by the stairs.
Beside them a large plastic container, and a small water bottle.

You looked towards the stairs,
silence.
You looked up to the clock,
Ticking
It would be another half hour until she came back down again to chain you up until 'bedtime' came around again.

If you were good at anything, besides sleeping and crying, that would be telling time.
Your stepmother never taught you any math, or how to read really.
But, you quickly caught on with the clock, figuring out when she left, unchained you, and returned.

You stood up, the shackles around your socked ankles were never removed unless you were sleeping or she was home to make sure you never escaped.

And she was home.
You could tell because of her heavy heels slamming down against the wooden floor above you.
And your ankle shackles were removed.

You bent over from your huddled position and rubbed your ankle, the blisters feeling rough against your fingers.
And a dull sting make you retract you hand as you either found a new bruise or cut from the metal rubbing against your skin.

Your socks reached your ankles and no further,
and the shackles rested atop your socks.

You have some sort of disorder. You couldn't really feel pain.
Oh, it was still there, but dulled down.

Your stepmother called it a disorder as a reason to call you a freak, but you thought it was because your body just grew used to the feeling of pain.

And you hated that idea.
It made you sick.

You just wanted to be normal, to be loved.
To be outside.
Upstairs.
In the sun.
You wanted out of this basement!

You stood from your 'bed' and shuffled over to the plastic container and snapped the lip off.

You jump as a loud pop fills the basement and echoes off the walls.
Any noise echoed off the walls of the silent basement.

You grabbed a slice a bread from atop a few grapes, and nibbled on it.
Wanting to make it last for a while.

But, every small bite made you want to eat it all.
Every bite made you want to eat more.
Every bite made your stomach ache, knowing this was the best you get.

You breathed out, and raised the bread back up to your mouth and nibbled on the crust a bit more.

You reluctantly placed the half eaten slice of bread back in the container and popped a few grapes in your mouth, savoring the taste as you chewed.
Food was the highlight of your day.
That moment where everything sounded and tasted good.

Your stomach rumbled and begged you to continue eating.
How long were you hungry?
Nine years?
Ten?
A long time.
And the hunger never got better.
It never would.