Chapter Text
The footsteps were back.
You couldn’t quite hear them yet, but if the dull vibration in your eardrums was anything to go by, you were certain that he was heading this way.
Though, it could’ve just been the pounding in your head. Or your heart beat sounding in your ears, the silence of the room making it the only other thing you could hear.
But the grounding echo of something heavy shuffling down what you’ve gathered to be a tiled hallway confirmed your fear.
You shifted in the armoire that you’ve taken shelter in, the anticipation of his arrival making you antsy. It must’ve been a hot minute since you’ve last moved, if your protesting joints were anything to go by.
The stale, crumpled clothing beneath you only cushioned your body so much.
You squinted through the darkness, looking towards the door with blurry eyes.
It was locked by your own hands, barricaded by a heavy wooden chest for extra measures. This made it so you could only see a sliver of the dim light coming from under the door, but it was enough to see the shadow of a large foot coming into view.
The heavy raps on the door still causes you to stiffen, even if you were expecting both that and the low baritone of his voice by now.
“breakfast.”
A meal call. It’s all he’s said through the door so far.
Lunch, Dinner, and Breakfast.
It sounded harmless on its own, but the knowledge of him preparing food for you behind closed doors couldn’t go ignored - even in your hunger-addled brain.
You didn’t move a muscle, staring at the door like it would burst into flames at any moment.
This cycle has only repeated itself a few times as of now, but he seemed to stay a little longer each time, as if waiting for something on your end.
Hoping you’d open the door.
Hoping you’d take the food.
But that wasn’t happening. Especially not with him standing right there.
He had to have known that. He had to have known you weren’t taking anything edible from him, no matter how hungry you admittedly were.
It was just too easy. No captor knocks on a door that their unrestrained captive locked and hands perfectly safe food without a catch.
It had to have been tampered with. Either that, or he was trying to get you to open the door for something far worse. It left you a little more on edge that he didn’t just kick down the door at this point.
You weren’t buying it. You really couldn’t afford to.
And so you remained silent, waiting for him to take his leave.
He must’ve understood that as his cue.
A heavy sigh meets your ears, along with a metallic ‘tink’ of a metal tray being placed next to the door, followed by the scrape of the previous one being taken away.
Then, as per usual, you hear the footsteps ‘slump-drag’ away, noticeably a little slower this time.
You exhaled, blood pumping in your ears as you leaned to the side, the cool wood feeling good against your heated skin.
You told yourself you’d wait this out. As long as you had the choice to stay huddled in the darkness, keeping him and his offerings locked out, you’d stay put until.. something else happened.
Preferably something in your favor.
But, you weren’t sure how much longer you could do this.
You barely knew how long you’ve been here, so there was no way to tell when dehydration or starvation would kick in.
You were already starting to feel the effects in full swing. Your stomach was cramping, head pounding endlessly, body sore and lethargic - not to mention your mouth felt like the Sahara. The lack of sleep and limiting yourself to the small closet didn’t do you many favors, either.
And escape?
It.. didn’t seem very plausible. There were no windows in the room, making the only way out the door you had blocked off.
Even if you did slip out of the room, you didn’t know what was out there. Was he the only one here? Would you be able to find the way out undetected?
And more importantly, where were you?
Considering the destruction happening around you before he grabbed you, you had an ongoing theory that this might’ve been an underground bunker. It would explain the lack of a window.
This would mean you were well and truly stuck, even if you did run. There was nowhere to go if this was all that was left of the world.
But that was only a theory, a what if. From what you could see of the room, it looked nothing like Fallout.
You had no idea where you were, or where you could go if you managed to make a break for it.
Which is why you waited.. but what were you even waiting for at this point?
Your spiral was interrupted by a familiar vibration, causing you to freeze both mentally and physically.
Footsteps.
A lighter, far peppier pair - slowly getting louder, and coming this way.
You were used to footsteps approaching the room by now, but not these ones. These ones were new. And they were coming from the opposite direction.
This meant the hall stretched out both ways, expanding your imaginary map of what could be on the other side of the door.
This confirmed he wasn’t the only one here.
You pushed yourself into the furthest corner of the armoire, painfully slow as to remain quiet.
Painfully regardless, considering your body rejecting the lack of self care.
You held hope that the person these steps belonged to was just strolling past, getting from point a to point b.
But of course, that would be too easy, and luck did not seem to be on your side as of late.
The footsteps slowed as they approached, a smaller shadow appearing from under the door, halting right in front of it.
You didn’t dare breathe - didn’t dare blink - staring at the entrance. You were half expecting it to be knocked down by the new arrival.
Did the other guy lose his patience? Go and complain to his accomplices? Is this the bad cop to his good cop?
Instead of a knock, (or any other sounds of destruction), a smooth, low whistle sounded from the other side.
"Still not eating?"
You flinched, curling further into yourself, the new voice catching you off guard.
A raspy baritone greeted you, but it was higher in pitch than the usual voice. It had a little more edge, and was a little sharper than the slow drawl of the other guy’s meal announcements.
"You got the big guy pacing the kitchen with your eating habits, ya know." He continued, followed by a shuffle and a small 'thunk', as though the stranger nudged the tray with his shoe.
Your brain wasn’t truly able to process the words being spoken, more so focused on the presence behind the door. It was the first thing you’ve heard come from another living being since you arrived, as well as the most said to you.
It put you on edge, more so than the other presence did. Not only was this a wrench thrown into the usual routine, but he was also aware of the situation enough to be able to comment about it.
Not to mention his cadence was.. off.
While the words were borderline accusational, his tone was light and airy. Disconnected in a way, yet amused.
It was as if this was all an entertaining episode of his favorite show, and he just broke the fourth wall to intervene.
…
… And it was not your fault you made the “big guy” worry.
The sound of the door knob jiggling interrupted your indignant thoughts, dumping your body in ice cold fear at the thought of anyone on the outside trying to get in.
The stranger huffed a laugh as you just about pissed yourself, suddenly grateful you haven’t had anything to drink recently.
“H’s a good man, deciding to give you ‘space and time to process’, as he put it. If it were me, I’d want my bed back.”
His words were mocking, but his tone held mirth, as if he found the concept itself funny.
Another shuffle was heard, followed by a weight being pressed against the door, before it slid down with a thud.
"He’s driving himself nuts tryna figure out why you won’t eat; wondering whether you're going on strike, or if you think it's been messed with," he snorted, his shoes squeaking as he adjusted his position.
In the back of your mind, you found yourself gaining a newfound appreciation for the swift nature of the usual visits.
The last thing you wanted was company, (especially from anyone beyond this room), but from the sounds of it, he was getting comfy.
At least he decided to stay in the hall, the door remaining locked and barricaded. Though you weren’t too confident about the security of that, anymore.
You refocused on what the newcomer was actually saying, leaving you to wonder if he was referring to the one who took you here and kept trying to feed you.
He had to have been - you weren’t aware of anyone else.
"You still alive in there?” The stranger muses, the shadow filling in more of the space as you could only assume he was trying to peak under the door. “You must be, he woulda known if you weren't."
You curl further into yourself, heart leaping into your throat as you did your best to avoid being seen. From your angle, you couldn’t see any details through the space between the floor and the door - only the light from the hall.
You hoped the same went for the stranger, or that the darkness blanketing the room was enough to cover your fearful form.
From the cold shudder that ripped through you and the feeling of eyes piercing into your very being, you don’t believe it was enough to hide you.
Another chuckle sounded from the man as you heard him sit back up against the door, seemingly pleased with himself.
"It’s been a while since you've eaten, yeah? From what I know, humans need to do the physical digestion thing often to survive. I mean, unless you have a hidden emergency supply with you, but I doubt that."
You kept your chapped lips shut tight, refusing to fill the silence. You’d be crazy too.
The lack of proper subsistence and sleep kept you bordering on delusional, but you weren’t that far gone yet.
Although you couldn’t be so confident to how much longer it would be until you hit that breaking point.
"Not much of a talker are ya?" The sound of the metal tray sliding across the tile was like nails on chalkboard, but it perked your interest further, wondering why he was even touching it. Especially when it was followed by the clink of silverware being picked up. "Well you're in luck, 'cause I’ve been told that I can talk for 20."
A few 'tings' sounded - like a fork being tapped against a porcelain plate.
This proved he was messing with the tray, which meant he could’ve been messing with the food.
And whether purposely or not, he was certainly messing with you.
"You gotta name? Or do I gotta give you one? Not that I mind. I was already thinking something like.. Mouse. Ya know, since you're quiet like one." He snickers as he spells it out for you, the sound of him moving acting as background noise in the conversation.
“Seems like you’re surviving off of whatever crumbs are left in his room, too. Couldn’t be much. I’ve seen that guy lick his plate clean on several occasions. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
The sound of something being cut could be heard, squishy yet solid. You cringe as unwanted images flashed through your head, the horror movies you’ve watched in the past aiding your morbid imagination.
But it was followed by him… taking a bite. It had to have been - the not so quiet chewing that followed all but confirming this.
"I gotta say, you're really missing out. Big guy's waffles are a real treat, doesn't make 'em too often either. I knew something was up when the waffle maker was taken out, since they’re only for ‘special occasions’. His words, not mine." He muses with a mouth full, swallowing loudly before digging in for another piece.
"He's not gonna be too happy when he finds out I took a few bites since it was made for you, but hey, you weren’t eating it, so finders keepers and all that, right?"
At the sudden mention of food, your stomach gurgled with longing. You gripped onto your shirt as to silence it, not being able to stop your hungry brain from hyper focusing on the sounds of him eating. Just the thought seemed to sharpen the cramps.
You didn’t want him to be able to perceive you more than he has. But by the snort he gave, you weren’t so lucky.
"Wow, ya sound real hungry in there. You sure you don’t want in on this?"
It unnerved you how he was talking to you like you two have been pals for years, considering the situation.
You had half the mind to be offended by his offer, curling around your aching stomach, eyes never leaving his shadow. His tone was borderline playful, as if inviting a stubborn child to do something by making it seem like they were missing out on something great.
You didn’t know what he was playing at, and you didn’t want to.
You wanted him to leave you alone to wallow in the dark. It felt safer, even if you knew deep down it was just the illusion of such.
But he just kept going, making it very clear that he was entirely unphased by the one sided nature of the interaction.
"How do you like your bacon? Think H's hoping you haven't been eating 'cause you don't like what's on the plate, so he made 'em all different ways. Crispy, a little chewy, burnt and still squealing." A very crisp crunch just about echoed in the hall. "Personally, I like mine when you can't tell it apart from coal."
This had to have been a game to him, comparable to a dinner and a show. He sure as hell sounded entertained, and it was getting to you more than you wanted to admit.
It felt like a cat waving cheese in front of its prey, luring it into a false sense of security by eating the bait too.
Is that what they were doing? Trying to lure you out of the room with the food?
No.. no, that couldn’t have been it. If they wanted you out, they would’ve dragged you out ages ago. The stranger said it himself; if it were up to him, he would’ve entered.
So he wasn’t baiting you, but he also wasn’t going to poison himself just to tease a starving captive for shits and giggles.
If your meal was messed with, there was no way he’d openly eat it.
So what was he doing?
"Zoning out on me, huh? And here I thought you were a great listener.” The stranger chuckles, regaining your attention as you wonder how he knew the difference between your chosen silence and the quiet of you lost in your own head.
He sighed, seemingly content with the meal as he placed the fork back down with another ‘ting’.
"Man, the big guy sure makes a mean breakfast. Sad I can't eat it all without getting thrown down the chute, but I guess you can enjoy it instead.”
The shadows under the door danced as the stranger finally stood, making you hopeful that he’d finally take his leave.
But the feeling of being looked at had you stiff once more, your heart stuttering and leaving you wishing you could merge into the oak behind you.
He wasn’t looking under the door this time, but through it.
And what unnerved you most was the thought that he wasn’t looking at you, but into you.
You’ve heard of checks before, but have never experienced them in your time of knowing Monsters.
You wondered if this is how one felt like.
The silence carried longer than it had up until now, only breaking once he seemed to have found what he was looking for, his echoing chuckles leaving goosebumps crawling up your skin.
"Look. I won't be the one to tell you what to do. In all honesty, I really don’t give a shit. But he does, and we gotta deal with him if something happens.” He seemed to huff at the thought, though you think it held a hint of humor to it.
“If you think it’s been messed with, you're only options are A. starving to death - thirsty, scared and all alone in the dark of whatever corner you’ve pressed yourself in, B. dying from whatever you think he put into it, or maybe even C. something far worse your little human brain is trying to conjure up.
"Or, option D, you eat it, nothing happens, and you get to live another day. Up to you really. But I gotta warn ya, if you're striking then H just might break his own rules and get ya to eat by any means necessary. Coming from a guy who's witnessed that, I think you're better off feeding yourself."
Another snicker left him as he said this, as if he remembered an inside joke you weren’t apart of.
He spoke about your chances as though he was just talking about the weather, objective and lilt. Maybe a little playful about the 80% chance of rain that was listed, ruining your outdoor plans.
But there was an underlying emptiness you couldn’t quite shake.
Another metallic clink could be heard as he rapped on the door, mimicking the other guy’s knocks.
"Welp, thanks for sharing. I left another fork in case you change your mind, don’t want you catching cooties. Not yet anyway. See ya around, Mousey!”
And with that, the stranger took his leave, leaving you with the echoes of both the peppy tune he whistled and the weight of his words.
-
True silence had followed in wake of the stranger's departure. It must've been an hour or two since then - there was no way to tell - but your eyes never left the door.
The white noise rang loudly in your ears as you were left alone to your thoughts. But they were now invaded by the stranger’s words, being unable to stop replaying the interaction as a whole.
In the time you spent chewing on what he said, (pun not intended), you had come to an unsettling conclusion.
You hated that you were even considering it but.. he was probably right. Your options were extremely limited, and most led to death.
All except option D…
You so desperately wanted to stick with your original plan. You wanted to be stubborn and wait. To stay in this closet and wait this whole thing out.
But…
…there wasn’t an out, was there?
It would more so be waiting until your body eventually shut down from the lack of food and water.
Either that, or waiting until “H” reached his breaking point. And from the look you got of him when he first took you here, the last thing you wanted was to be manhandled by the behemoth…
…again.
You shuddered, pushing the thought aside as you slumped back against the wood, closing your eyes. With these points brought to your attention, it was getting harder and harder to justify your lack of action.
You tried, but it didn't seem to have any solid ground anymore.
And you were getting so tired…
…
… you really couldn’t escape this, could you?
Not by running, not by staying put - it was all a lose-lose.
All except, again, option D.
The more you thought about it, the more it did make… some sense. The food could be perfectly fine like the stranger had said and had even possibly shown.
Who would reasonably go through the trouble of making several meals for a hostage, hoping that out of the many attempts, they'd give in and eat the tampered food.
That just seems like a waste of perfectly good food. You should know as a baker yourself.
And the concept of the guy who took you here “giving you space and time to process”? Process what? What did that even mean? Is that why the door remained untouched?
Did that mean he really was trying to keep you alive? And for what?
Why were you even here?
Stars, none of this made sense.
Maybe you were asking the wrong questions.
Maybe instead of questioning their motives, you should be asking what kind of hostage situation this was.
Was it a hostage situation at all?
You pressed your palms to your temples as the migraine got worse with all these thoughts, your throat on fire as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat.
Opening your eyes once more, you focused on the crack under the door.
It was beginning to look like a light at the end of the tunnel.
…
…Were you really doing this?
…
A low rumble broke the silence, followed by another sharp cramp that had you wincing.
Guess that answers that.
You dragged yourself over the stale clothes and to the edge of the armoire, your sneakers making contact with the rug for the first time since you made this your official hidey hole.
That small movement alone made the dull aches flare with a vengeance, but it was nothing compared to when you finally stood up for the first time in who knows how long.
Vertigo crashed over you, the dizziness threatening to send you falling back down as your shaky legs tried to support.
You gripped onto the wardrobe, vision blurring as the blood rushed to your head. Your headache was splitting, temples throbbing as you pressed your forehead to the cold wood in hopes it would ease the pain.
Just how long have you been sitting there?
How long have you been waiting?
The thought only seemed to scare you further.
…Just how close were you to possibly dying? How many days more would it take?
You didn’t want to die. Not like this, at least.
With a shaky breath, you straightened yourself out the best you could. It was slow, and the stretch burned, but it did feel nice to stand.
You paused, listening.
Silence, still. No one rushing back because you moved. Just you and your breathing.
You took a step, letting go of the wood once you knew you wouldn’t collapse.
You took another step, wobbling as your legs shook from more than just disuse.
You took one more, and another, and then a few more, each with you pushing past the pins and needles dancing along your skin.
You reached the door sooner than you’d hoped, dropping heavily to your knees as you pushed the chest back to its original space. You inwardly thanked the soft rug beneath you for aiding in the slide, arms weak as they were in your current state.
Using the polished wood as purchase, you stood once more, looking down at the light that now touched the tips of your shoes.
It made you take pause again, a pit other than hunger growing in your stomach.
It wasn’t like you to make such brash decisions so quickly.
You’ve weighed options far lighter than this for weeks before, and even longer when other’s input were involved.
You were betting a lot on the words of a stranger. It scared you how desperate you truly were to simply live.
And if you were wrong - if he had lied to you - this could be your last living decision.
He said it himself, he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t have anything to lose.
…
But you did.
With a steadying breath, you flicked the lock and clasped the cold metal with shaky hands. You turned it by the inch, not wanting to alert anyone around of your decision.
The door opened quietly, your empty stomach rolling as you peeked out cautiously.
The difference in lighting assaulted your senses, the dim light coming from what seemed to be torches lining the wall being enough to burn your eyes.
You were able to catch a glimpse down the hall, it seeming to stretch to impossible lengths. The implication of this place being far larger than you originally thought was a fear you didn’t need while having this door open.
You were rethinking your bunker theory, this definitely did not look like Fallout.
You looked down, and low and behold, the half eaten waffles were sitting inconspicuously on a round silver tray, looking miraculously crisp with how drenched they were in syrup.
It was joined by several pieces of bacon all cooked to different degrees, a water bottle and two forks; one clean and one used.
All as the stranger said.
The scent of something edible made any scrap of rational reasoning fly out the window as you picked up the tray by its handles, avoiding the sound it made when dragged as to not alert anyone who may be around to hear.
You had enough sense to lock the door after shutting it, but didn’t have the energy to bother with the chest as you placed the tray down in front of you, plopping weakly to the ground.
You barely gave pause as you shakily picked up the water bottle, finishing just about three-fourths of it in one go. It felt like sandpaper going down, but you never knew water could taste so good.
Discarding the crushed plastic, you hurriedly picked up the clean fork with an unsure grip, having half the mind to hesitate for just a moment.
You bit your lip as it wobbled, tears welling up as you stared down at the plate.
You could die doing this.
…But you also weren’t so sure there was anything to go back to anymore anyways, given what you witnessed before being taken here.
Your hesitation lasted only so long as your newly hydrated mouth salivated at the aroma that wafted your way, far stronger due to the proximity. With your hunger winning, you pushed down your thoughts, beginning to cut up the first piece.
End of the world aside, all you could do was hope beyond hope that the stranger wasn’t wrong as you took your first bite.