Sounds So Sweet - Ticci Toby X Reader

Chapter 23

That morning, you could not muster up the energy to do anything more than turn and stare into the grey concrete ceiling. Thoughts did not flow through your mind, but you felt stressed. Perhaps it was this whole new life stressing your body out, or just the wound on your shoulder. You gripped it, but surprisingly felt nothing. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you pull down your shirt and gasp. The wound, it was gone! Did last night even happen? You must really be going cra-

Toby barges in, mumbling to himself angrily. He has his hands tight against his hips, pulled into fists. His head cracks, but remains low and he avoids eye contact, or so you thought. You really couldn't tell with his face guards up.

"How is your stupid shoulder?" he grumbles, sarcasm dripping in every word.

You scramble to find words, how did you not have a scar or anything?

"Eh, it's, um, painful? Yea, yea, hurts really bad. Pretty sure I'm outta commission for at least a week, haha." you speak quickly, also avoiding eye contact.

Toby completely dismisses you, mumbling a 'great' and rushing out the door. Before it closes, you hear him scream down the hall.

"Happy now? There goes my dignity, you bastard." the door slams shut.

You rush out of bed and in front of the mirror inside your closet door. You rip off your shirt, and search both shoulders, maybe you got it wrong? Your shaky hands reach up, pressing fingers against the spot you were a million times sure was where Toby stabbed you, but you felt nothing but the pressure of your fingers. What? How was this possible?

You think back to seeing Jeff's bludgeoned head, courtesy of Toby's handiwork. How was he still alive? Before your mind could wander in the depths of the pain you felt with Jeff, you shake your head. You're thinking too much. Maybe Toby just messed with you. BEN probably sucked you both into the TV and created a simulation of the world you were in. You just respawned. Jack isn't real. Nothing is real.

You shakily put your shirt back on, and stare out for a bit. This wasn't happening. You couldn't be immortal, right? That didn't exist...just like an eyeless monster didn't exist...or video game ghosts...or a boy with no eyelids and a lipless smile. Boy, you must've been insane the second you stepped into those woods. You were probably comatose from the car accident. It's all making sense, you're fine. You'll wake up to your parents at your bedside. You'll go back home, crawl into bed, and cry about the usual inconvenience in life.

A tear rolls down your cheek, but you wipe it away the moment it falls. How were you the unfortunate soul to be stuck in a world in which killers and monsters and ghosts alike live in a huge house? Maybe this was Hell.

"What're you crying about now?" You jump, looking up to see Toby at your door again.

"My shoulder hurts. What, I can't cry from physical pain, either?" you walk over to your bed, and wrap yourself in blankets, laying with your back away from him.

You hear footsteps, "You're ridiculous, let me see the thing. Jack told me he stitched you up fine, you baby." he stutters and you immediately rise from your bed again.

"Nah, really. I'm fine leave me be. I'll cry for a bit but toughen up, I swear!" you avoid his touch, not wanting him to find you uninjured.

"What're you going on about? Let me see the damn thing," he stumbles as he tries to grab at you, neck cracking disorienting his reach.

"Why do you even care, anyway? You're the reason for this, isn't that what you wanted?" you dodge his grasp again, jumping on the bed to the other side of the room.

"Stop! I'm getting annoyed." another reach.

"If you answer the question, I'll think about thinking about it." you test a laugh, but he only gets angrier.

"Don't make me give you a matching second wound, I won't hesitate." you almost make it to the other side again, but he grabbed ahold of your shirt collar.

Toby pulls you back onto the bed, and you cross your arms in defense. He scoffs and tries to pry your hands away from both shoulders, but you hold your grip tight.

"Seriously?" He groans and pries harder.

You heel, and squeeze your eyes shut as he pulls down the collar. When the shoulder is revealed, you hear nothing. He doesn't even twitch. Testing an eye, you open and just barely see his widened eyes behind the goggles. He breathes out, and his neck twitches resume. You watch him stand off of you, then hold out a hand. Something urges you not to take it, but his silence scared you much more than a helping hand. You reluctantly take it, and he pulls you off the bed. Before you could pull your hand back, he squeezes with unbelievable strength. In less than three seconds of you trying to pry your hand away, you hear a pop and feel immediate pain shooting up your hand. Your kneels buckle, and tears brim your eyes as you scream in pain. He lets you fall, and walks out without another word. You're left there, cursing everything under the sun, and clutching your hand in pain. There are two bones protruding at a slightly awkward angle, and it triggered vomit to approach your throat. You make it to the trash can, but it doesn't help the pain in your hand. The pain, too overwhelming for your intensely stressed mind, also triggers a safety measure. Your mind shuts down, and your head lolls backwards, world going black. The last thing you remember feeling is the comfort of the cool, hard floor against your warm, wet cheek.