The Living Doll (Jason the Toymaker X Reader)

Empty Dolls

A/N: This chapter gets pretty dark in some places. Also, thank you for reading! <3

The walls and toys of Jason's workshop felt washed out and gray. It was like you were moving underwater, where everything was slowed down and nothing felt real. You couldn't even reminisce your old, mundane life from before, every memory was now soaked in blood and maggots.

Jason had killed your parents. Correction: you had killed them too, apparently. You thought his logic was confusing and absurd at first, but now, a month afterwards, you understand what he meant.

There was no point trying to escape anymore. What did you have left to go back to? What shattered remains of your life could you stitch back together? College felt like a faraway dream. Even if you did go back, even if you had something to go back to- your friends, extended family- Jason would never be far behind. Going back to your old life would only put a target on other people's heads. You didn't want to be responsible for more deaths.

This was your home. Jason had won, he had gotten exactly what he wanted, finally. You no longer had the desire to leave. You no longer had the desire to do anything, really. Not anymore. You slept. Woke up from nightmares, cried. Maybe you ate something. Maybe you'd wander the halls for a bit, before sleeping again. The cycle repeats.

The only person you had to talk to was your warden, your friend, your accomplice to murder; Jason. And you would rather stick a fork in an electrical socket than hold a conversation with him. He still asked you to do things with him, follow him around, help him with stuff, just like before. But you never said a word to him, no matter how much he tried to engage you.

"Hello, Y/N! Good morning," Jason said as he entered your bedroom this morning. You had woken up a half hour ago from another nightmare. "Coffee or tea?" He asked, similar to the day you found your parent's bodies. And pretty much every day after that. You stared back at him, unblinking. He poured himself a cup of tea, smiling at you good-naturedly.

"You know, Y/N, if you don't tell me I won't know what to give you!" He teased. When he didn't get any reaction or response from you, his face quickly dropped into a scowl, his overly-cheery persona fading nearly immediately. "Fine then. Stay mute. Suffer in silence." He said bitterly. He poured you coffee, and put milk in it before handing it over to you. You drank it without hesitation. You hoped the coffee would keep you awake. The nightmares always left you tired and exhausted.

Jason continued to explain his plans for the day, a bitter edge to his words. He didn't stay for long this time, clearly frustrated with your lack of response, taking the teapot and leaving. Before he stepped through the door, he turned to you. "You can't keep doing this forever, Y/N. You'll have to talk to me eventually. Because I'm all you have left." At the last line, his face twisted up into a smile, like he couldn't help himself. He closed the door on his way out.

He was probably right, you thought. You couldn't keep silent forever. But right now silence was the only rebellion you had. That fire in your chest, that anger and need to escape had nearly been snuffed out completely. But watching Jason pout and complain bitterly of your silence gave you a small bit of accomplishment for enacting a tiny bit of revenge on the man who had taken your life from you.

After about 20 minutes, you finished your coffee, leaving it on your side table. You didn't bother getting dressed as you left the room, still in your pajamas. Your clothes were a light gray, soft like a storm cloud. You wandered the halls that had become so familiar to you now, tracing your hand against the wall, the pads of your fingers noting every crack and bump in the wallpaper. You didn't have a destination in mind, your thoughts scattered and your head empty. Eventually you noticed that you had wandered into the living room, a place you hadn't been back to in a while. Faintly you remembered Jason taking you here, when you had first arrived. How scared you had been then. How defiant.