Chapter Text
You weren’t entirely sure if you were awake or half asleep, the blindfold over your eyes made things a bit confusing. You surely weren’t walking down the street anymore, you could feel the cold tile where you sat and the ropes binding your wrists over your head. The silence was filled with the beating of your frantic heart, you wished it would calm down, given that you couldn’t exactly run anywhere and it was just making you more nervous.
Your hands were the only things tied, and you could stand up if you wished, but the massive pain in your head was making you dizzy. The details were coming back to you, you had been on the street when someone hit you over the head from behind, and now you were in an unfamiliar location. You didn’t think your job made you particularly special, but maybe some maniac wanted to try using you for ransom?
The nervousness was making you feel stupid, your hands were free enough to remove the blindfold, something you should’ve thought of the moment you knew you had it on.
The room around you was decrepit and abandoned, mostly empty aside from a table in the far corner. Footprints were tracked through the dust on the floor, leading to you and back out the door. Strangely, a lack of drag marks from your body, your kidnapper must’ve carried you over. Dirt stuck to the fabric of your dress. You looked up at your hands, red rope cut into your wrists in knots so tight they looked impossible to undo.
You felt your soul jump out of your body when the door creaked open, your heart could not have started beating any faster. A man of pure white stepped through the doorway into the room with you. It may have been his many layers of clothing, or perhaps his height, but he felt like a giant in a room where you were a mere ant. You didn’t register what he was carrying as you studied his face, you knew him.
Well, you didn’t know him, not personally at least. But you had noticed him before, a man as striking as him is impossible to miss when he goes everywhere that you do. You’d seen him at every sky bus you’ve been on, on the streets and in the same shops as you. He was always looking you up and down. Perhaps it was a mistake on your part, not to call out such an obvious stalker, not to confront him even when his behavior was so blatant. He’d never followed you home, had never tried to speak to you or come to your work, thus you thought you could let it slide. So what if you had a harmless stalker, it’s his problem, right?
But now it was your problem, now you were tied up in an abandoned building with a head injury and he was very clearly the one who had kidnapped you, and now he was in the room with you.
You hadn’t noticed the chair beside the table that he now dragged over to place across from you. There were two mugs in his hands, one of which he silently offered to your bound hands. You weren’t entirely sure what to do as he forced the handle into your fingers, would dropping it make him upset? You couldn’t see the contents of the mug while sitting, and thus did your best to stand up.
Marshmallows, on brown liquid, likely hot chocolate based on the smell. The color looked off, a slight red tone, but it smelled absolutely mouth watering. You glanced at him, he was sitting in front of you, sipping from his own mug, not saying a word or even looking at you. He plucked a marshmallow straight from his drink with bare fingers to eat it, licking his fingers of the liquid afterwards; a very child-like way to drink it . From what you could see, his drink looked even more off color, a dark red. Every sip he took left a red stain around his lips, that he would promptly lick off before taking another sip. His arm was bandaged, and there was a fresh bloodstain on it; maybe it was a wound you inflicted fighting back when he kidnapped you, but you couldn’t even remember fighting back.
You felt nervous just holding the cup, he clearly expected you to drink it. Would he have poisoned it? You didn’t feel there were many options here, he might force you to drink it, and dropping the mug could possibly make him angry, it was hard to tell how stable he was (not that a kidnapper could be the most stable, you figured)
You took a sip, it was still hot but not enough to burn you. It just might have been the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had, but a slight metallic taste was making it a bit off putting. You hesitated to take more than a few sips, drinking it might please him, but you weren’t taking chances by drinking an entire cup of potential poison.
It was certainly a strange scene, kidnapper and kidnappee in the same room, drinking strange hot chocolate in dead silence. Your mug was still more than half full, and your hands were bound so you couldn’t pluck out the marshmallows as he had done. You could hear him slurping the last of his drink before placing the cup on the ground. His eyes snapped to yours, and you felt as though you couldn’t look away from his eyes; his cold, corpse-like purple eyes. He licked the final remains of his drink from his lips, never breaking eye contact. He held your gaze as he stood and came closer to you, wrapping his fingers over yours. He peered into your cup.
‘’Aww you didn’t finish it? Well, I guess that’s fine, it might give you a tummy ache, even if I did make it weak.’’ he took the cup from you and set it beside his own, even from where you stood, you could see that his drink was a drastically different color to yours, and you could smell iron on his breath from how close he stood to you. Red stains on his teeth when he spoke, had he been drinking blood? Was that why your drink was reddish in color? Just the thought was making your stomach gurgle uncomfortably.
His reaction was odd to you, but you supposed it couldn’t be any odder than your kidnapper giving you hot chocolate or giving you a blindfold that could be easily removed. He hadn’t done more than glance at the blindfold on the floor, maybe he expected you to remove it, or he simply didn’t care.
You were snapped out of your thoughts when he reached into his coat and his hand came out grasping a knife. The hot chocolate had actually done some work towards calming your nerves, but now your heart was beating out of your chest again. If he was going to ransom you he surely wouldn’t hurt you? Deep down, you knew this wasn’t ransom, it surely couldn’t be, it was far too strange and he never mentioned anything about it. The knife slipped under the straps of your dress, it fell to the floor in a pile of expensive-but now ruined- fabric, you could grieve over it later, if you survived.
Chills took over your body, as you were in nothing but underwear in an uninsulated building. You tried not to feel humiliated, but it was hard not to, when you were almost completely exposed in front of a stranger. He looked thoughtful, as though he weren’t sure what he wanted to do next. Frankly, you were just hoping he would at least leave you with the dignity of not being nude. Thankfully, all he did was reach down and take your damaged dress out of the room.
When he returned, he adjusted some sort of pulley system, bringing your arms up over your head so you would be unable to sit back down. He looked so calm, but when he turned his head to you, his eyes were predatory. You could feel it, no escape, he was going to hurt you in some way and there would be nothing you could do about it.
You flinched when he caressed your cheek,
‘’My darling angel, you look so beautiful when you’re afraid.’’
His eyes still looked awfully dead, like he was just a rotting husk inside, but he gave you a gentle smile and blush dusted his cheeks. Just a scary man who tried to love but had nothing inside aside from violence. You felt as though he meant for his words to be genuinely comforting, but they had the opposite effect.
Cold steel touched your back as he brought you into a hug, squeezing you with unexpected strength. You couldn’t get away, thus you tried to accept the hug for the warmth it would bring to your cold skin, but he was truly like a corpse, with no warmth inside him at all. He pulled back and his gentle smile had become a lazy grin, his face even more flushed. Did this lunatic think he was being romantic here?
‘’Hold still’’, he whispered in your ear, a playful tone in his voice as he pointed his knife at your abdomen. He quickly slashed downwards, the cut wasn’t all that deep but it terrified you. Panic took over and you started thrashing, even remembering your legs were free to kick him. You felt as though you got some good kicks in, until he grabbed your leg mid swing and you saw his face. He looked pissed, in terrifying contrast to his playful smiles from moments prior.
‘’Don’t spoil this for me’’ he growled.
One moment your leg was firmly grasped in his hand, and the next it was detached from your body and dropped on the ground. It barely even registered in your head. Only your upper thigh remained, and it was spilling blood all over your other leg and the ground. The pain finally reached your brain and you let out a yelp. Tears stung at your eyes and it was so hard to not start sobbing.
You missed when it was five minutes ago and you were drinking hot chocolate, praying this would be a simple ransom operation, and now your leg was gone and you’d managed to piss off your attacker.
Your leg was bleeding an awful lot, no matter what he did next, you didn’t think you’d live very long. You’d never been so grateful to have your hands strung from the ceiling, as otherwise you’d be balancing on one leg. Through the panic, you tried to concentrate on him, though you didn’t exactly have a way to fight back anymore. He didn’t even seem upset anymore, he appeared more transfixed by the blood pouring from your new stump.
Through the blur of your tears, you saw him toss his knife aside, it hit the mugs on the floor squarely, knocking both of them over, remnants of red liquid dribbled out.
There was a new intensity in his eyes, he held his hands under the fountain of blood running from your thigh, cupping it to catch as many drops as he could. Your lungs strained to breathe, not only from terror, but from the strain your strung up arms were forcing upon it. He brought his blood filled hand up to run across your cheek, his hot iron breath filling your nostrils. The wetness ran down your cheek, dripping down your neck, tickling your skin. You felt so numb now, nothing but adrenaline in your veins as the rest of your blood escaped you.
You flinched, trying to hop back on one leg when his fingers slipped into your underwear, his face still close and breathing heavily into yours. Hot tears dripped down, mingling with the blood, though you were hardly aware of them now. His digits explored tentatively, growing ever more intimate, you felt flooded with nothing but despair.
In a last ditch effort, almost on survival instinct, you craned your neck forward, trying to bite down on his nose; the only thing you could reach in your position, you only nipped him slightly. He hissed and withdrew slightly, removing his hands from you. He looked back at you with a cold gaze, before raising his hands up.
His hands were on your throat, it was so hard to concentrate, but the pressure on your windpipe demanded your attention. Your head was so starved of air that you barely noticed his ever-growing laughter, or his massive smile. You tried to hang from your arms and kick with your remaining leg, but it didn’t deter his grip at all. Your mind was hazy but you vaguely remembered your silly coworker sharing a survival tip with you. Maybe if you played dead, he’d stop strangling you without realizing you were still alive. It was worth a try, as your options were running lower with every second. You allowed your body to go limp, going against every instinct to fight him. In your drifts of consciousness, you thought his grip had relaxed. It was so quiet now, his hands were only resting on your throat. If you continued playing dead, perhaps he’d even untie your ‘’body’’ and you could take your chance to escape.
But your traitorous body had other plans, letting out an involuntary sob, it instantly triggered his grip to go harder than it was previously, and as you died, his awful, awful laugh echoed in your ears.
He waited until the blood had run from your leg and the warmth faded out of you before he released your neck. Cutting through the ropes on your arms, releasing you from your entrapment far too late for you to enjoy it for yourself.
You couldn’t hear it, his children’s lullaby that he hummed as he licked your blood from his knife.
Your body lay limp on the floor, awkwardly posed in your own blood. Death was never a pretty thing. Cutthroat leaned down on his knees, his shorts soaking up the red pool. His knife ran over your body, slicing through skin and underwear as it traveled over you.
You couldn’t kick him away or bite him now, your cold body was free to bend to his every whim.
Your dead face reminded him so much of his mother, he hadn’t violated her, but he would do anything to relive the thrill of his first victim, to feel that closeness once more; and your glassy stare, well, he found it quite arousing.
All the red beneath you spread out like a halo, yours had already disappeared, but the tangible red remained. He reached to pull down his shorts to relieve the pressure on his
special knife
.
Of course, you couldn’t self-lubricate in your current state of existence, but there was plenty of perfectly slippery blood he could use. Coating his dick in red was almost enough to get him off alone, but he held it back, that was meant for your body alone.
He slowly slid into your entrance, the cold sent a shiver through his entire body, the dead cooled so quickly after all. He didn’t make a sound the entire time, there was nobody to hear it anyways. His thrusts were slow and gentle, not out of fear of hurting you, but only to enjoy the frozen embrace of your walls. The coagulating blood made for a sticky sensation inside.
Blood flushed in his cheeks as his arousal rose, his movements became erratic, and his breaths grew heavy as well.
He leaned in close to your face, his body trembling as a new warm fluid filled you, joining in with the blood. He whispered something you could not hear anymore, breathy and soft, “I..love you…my angel…”