Sounds So Sweet - Ticci Toby X Reader

Chapter 4

Gasps. Sweat dripping down the hairline. You throw off your covers and look around. Where are you? What happened? How did you get home? Was it all a dream?

But what was a dream? You already begin to forget. The woods. It was the woods. You shake your head until you nearly cause a whiplash. Why do you lose your dreams so quickly. Why can't you remember them like usual? You begin to cry in frustration. What was WRONG with you? With each fallen tear, you grow more frustrated and upset. Nothing ever goes right, does it? More reasons to write down. More reasons to drown. More reasons to die.

"I'll do it. I'll go kill myself right now. I know the way to the lake, it's not that far. I'll do it no-" a pause.

Who was this individual sitting at the end of your bed? A stray tear slides down your cheek, and you shimmy backwards into your pillows. It only stares, and you bring your knees close to your chest, keeping a close eye back onto the intruder.

"Who are you?" the obvious question is answered with a most familiar neck crack.

"Oh come on, now. You know drowning won't work. You're too much of a coward to do it." the man snickers, and crawls closer.

"You know, deep down, that you've tried. You've been trying for daaaaays now, hm?" his taunting voice triggers goosebumps from head to toe.

"Leave me alone," another shimmy back, "you don't know me."

"Oh, but we know each other pretty well. It's hard to forget a face like yours. What with your constant crying and constant plead for death. It's sad, really." He climbs in next to you, and all you can do is close your eyes and press your lips firmly together.

"Go away." you whisper and lean away.

He hooks a finger around your chin, pulling it towards his masked face.

"You and I both know I can't leave you alone until we both get our one wish: your death." he jerks, and pats your knee lightly.

A click of a magnet, and a cling of a metal. Your eyes close once more once the cool metal hits your neck. Again? How can you know this feeling? This pit in your stomach. The familiarity. The adrenaline pumping through your veins. His hatchet pressed just under your chin. You want to run, but something about his presence pulls you in. It's just fate, right?

"Alright then, my life is in your hands, intruder. Or as I like to say, go ham." you push your body closer to his weapons.

"W-why don't you get comfortable then, or something? Do you need anything like, a last meal, or something? Ah geez am I even cut out for this? I miss Lyra." he drops his weapons to the side.

"Excuse me, WHAT?" you turn towards the man.

"I can't do it, I just can't. I'm the failure, not you. Why do you make me remember? I shouldn't remember anything. Poor, poor Lyra. It's all his fault. IT'S ALL HIS FAULT." He screams into your face.

You've already felt panic rising from the pit in your stomach. Who is this guy? You lower your legs to attempt to escape. He turns towards you full on, and noticed your discomfort.

"You must be afraid. That's okay, you get used to the fear. Turn it into a tactic. That's what I do. Fear drove me to kill my father, so why can't it do more for you, right? Oh, god I'm getting sentimental," he reaches out for you, but you fall out of the sheets onto the floor beneath you.

He stands on top of your bed, and clicks his hatchets into place. You scramble to get away reaching the door before he scoops you up into his arms with ease.

"I can't let you leave. I can't. I'll kill you, I have to. My only challenge. You're coming with me," he cackles as he climbs through the window.

"Wait, wait, wait. Please don't-" you grab onto his hoodie, but he throws you down anyway.

You scream as he clutches onto your waist, and takes the impact for you. You scramble onto your feet, and make a break for it. His laughter sounds in the distance, but you make no stops. You can't go to the woods. He'll be there, so you'll find the nearest police station. It'll be okay. You'll be okay. Just outside your neighborhood, you take a right, and help as your head makes contact with your intruder.

"You can keep running," he cracks his neck violently, "but it'll be no use."

Before you can turn away, he grabs your shirt and pulls you close. The sweet ringing tickles your ear. Head begins to pound.

"Make it stop." you groan into his shirt.

You slide down to the sidewalk, hands on your head.

"He's got to you, too, then," A laugh, "but there's no way he can have you. You're mine to kill. HEAR THAT, SLENDY," more laughing, "this one is MINE."

His continuous laughs are littered with hiccups, or most likely tics? You can't help but succumb as usual, but a force drives you back.

"No. No, this can't happen again," you stand, "I won't stand for this."

The man stops, and watches with a smirk. You plant both feet on the ground, and shake your hands. Each finger collects into a fist. You can safely say that the unexpected blow to his cheek left him a stone on the pavement. Taking your fighting chance, you kick his valuables, and run once again. Where was the police station again? It was another right, then a left, another left, then go straight. In less than five minutes, you're gasping for oxygen, lungs burning from no break. You look up to find the police stati- home.

You let out a relieving puff of air and walk inside. Up the stairs and into the shower. Phew. Today was such a long day. Since when did you ever believe that late night runs were a thing, let alone a GOOD idea? You chuckle, and pick up your disheveled covers, jumping straight into bed. Fresh clothes never felt so good considering you somehow managed to sweat up a storm. More chuckles. You turn into your pillow, find a comfy spot, and allow yourself to sleep well for the first time in days. After all, all that meaningless exercise was exhausting.