His Little Mouse ||Leatherface x OC||

She was supposed to die in the Texas heat.

Daisy Bell ran straight into hell when her car broke down on a backroad in 1973. No gas. No phone. Just a farmhouse, a missing finger on her left hand, and a man in the driveway.

Thomas Hewitt isn't what the stories say. He's not a lumbering monster. He's 6'5" of scar tissue and silence, with hands that kill faster than his chainsaw ever could. He doesn't speak. He doesn't have to. When he looks at her with those blue-gray eyes, the whole world goes quiet.

He should've gutted her. Instead, he kept her.

Now Daisy's trapped in a house of cannibals where Mama calls her "pet," Sheriff Hoyt calls her "evidence," and Thomas... Thomas calls her nothing. Because he doesn't talk. He just watches. Stalks. Kneels in the basement with blood on his boots and waits for her to stop shaking.

The Hewitts think they can control him with pills and prayers and masks made of skin. They're wrong. Thomas Hewitt doesn't follow orders. He follows obsession.

And he's obsessed with his little mouse.

(Warning: This is not a love story. It's a devouring. Contains graphic violence, cannibalism, captivity, trauma bonding, and a morally black MMC who would burn the world for one blonde girl.)

*Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.*

_Texas Chainsaw Massacre | Leatherface x OC | Dark Romance | 18+_