your-whumpee

[your-whumpee]

You wake up slowly, a haze over everything. A pain in your arm- maybe you were hit? Fell and knocked your shoulder against something?

You’re on your back, on a hard surface. It’s cold, you can tell… but somehow you feel feverish. There’s hard straps around your wrists and ankles.

Your head’s on something soft, a folded towel. The room is dim, but you recognize the same place from earlier, where I held your head under water.

“Nice to see you’re finally awake. Sleep well, pet?”

I place my hand on your cheek, and you feel soft fingers glide along your jaw, almost lovingly despite the situation.

-🌱

I let out a small groan, automatically pulling my head away from the fingers along my jaw. I blink my eyes open, attempting to blink the haze away. That's when I notice the straps over each of my limbs.

I immediately attempt to jerk into a sitting position with a hoarse cry of panic. I slam back against the table thanks to the straps keeping me restrained, and I gasp as my movements cause the pain in my arm to worsen slightly.

I groaned. I didn't understand why I felt so unwell. Instead of forming words, I looked up at you, eyes bleary and confused.

[your-whumpee]

I drag you out of the room and up a set of stairs, not bothering to lift you or prevent your head banging into each step on the way up. Your blood is making a mess of the place, but I don’t find it in myself to care right now.

“Worthless.” I’m mumbling to myself.

I leave you at the top of the stairs for a moment, confident that you won’t try to escape. I walk out of your sight. You can hear the sound of a door opening and coat hangers being pushed from side to side.

-🔥

I didn't think I could possibly be more dazed than I already was, but I was proven wrong as my head smacked repeatedly against the stairs, sending more flares of pain rocketing down my body. I let out a small whimper, slumping in place once you release me.

Once you walk away, I open my eye again. I don't know what you're planning now, but I'm afraid to find out. Weakly, I begin trying to pull myself across the floor in a slow, agonizing crawl, dragging the rest of my broken body along. My body screams in protest, and I barely move at all.

[your-whumpee]

I set the jug next to your cot, and step over to you. Leaning in close, I grab your chin, tilting your head up as I admire your fearful expression.

“Why? Sweetie, isn’t it obvious? I’m doing this because it’s fun. Who has a cell and a torture room in their basement who doesn’t love hurting people?”

I let go of your chin and pat your head softly.

“Now, I want you well fed and well rested, I’ve got a big day planned for tomorrow.”

You’re just too cute. I almost want to push you to the floor and take out my knife- you’d look so pretty with blood all over you.

But I’ve already bought you food, and I’m pretty tired myself. I’ll let you get used to your new situation, then we can have more fun.

“Eat up, sweetheart. You’re going to need the energy.”

You’re left alone in your cell once more.

-🌱

I hunch my shoulders once you pat my head. I feel patronised and more frightened than before. What sort of horrible person found pleasure in causing pain for... for no good reason??

Once you were gone, I buried my face into my knees and cry. The entire night, I refuse to eat or drink the food you have given me, too afraid that they may be poisoned or drugged. I know it is not the smartest idea, for I need the strength I am to fight back and try to escape. But I cannot risk it.

Instead, I climb into the cot, curling up shakily inside. I pull my knees up to my chest and shut my eyes at last. I fall asleep quickly.

[your-whumpee]

I’m still shaking you, still yelling at you, still trying to give you something to focus on besides the pain.

I would be lying if I said my goal wasn’t to break you, to reduce you down to nothing. But now something in it feels empty. You have become too much a shell, nothing left to bend and fold and force.

No reason left to hurt you.

The blood I had worked so hard to reveal, has only hidden you more. Both physically and metaphorically.

I watch you stare at me lazily. Finally, I give up with trying to rouse you from this state. I stand, my clothes are wet with your blood. I bring my sleeve to my mouth and suck what I can from the fibers.

Despite everything, I refuse to drink directly from you. I look at the chain on my wrist, and the chains on your remaining limbs.

I had chained myself as a pro caution, I had feared I would become what I thought you were. A beast unable to be controlled. A danger. And yet here you are on the floor, the more I have pushed the less you have become those things.

I wonder if the true fear of death would bring you back into yourself, of perhaps you would only accept it willingly.

Well, if you weren’t going to be anymore fun, I will make you what you have become. Nothing.

I pull at the chain around my wrist. I have to pull harder than I had before, but I’m able to break it. I go for the key, unlocking the cuff still around my wrist before unlocking the cuffs around your remaining arm and your ankles.

I grab you by the ankle and begin to drag you out of the room.

-🔥

A wordless whine breaks from my throat as I am dragged away. I know I should try to get away, try to fight you now that I can... but my body is too broken. I only continue to stare at you, eye glazed as you drag me somewhere.

Was I finally being freed? I hardly dared to hope. All I wanted was for the pain to be over.

[your-whumpee]

I can hear your screams getting weaker and louder. Despite the fact that your remaining eye is open I know you cannot truly see me. I know your jerking movements are instinct, no coherent mind left to direct them.

I know I have pushed you too far.

I take one last swipe at your face, tearing a large chunk of skin from your cheek. Your entire face is red with flesh and blood. So much blood it’s hard to tell how much damage I have truly done.

I grab the chain around your wrist, bringing your arm close to me and shaking it.

“Fight me!” I’m shaking your wrist so forcefully I can feel the chain being pushed to its limit. “After everything you’ve done! Now you fall? Now you break? Now you suffer willingly?”

I let go of the chain around your wrist, instead going for the one around your left ankle, pulling you away from the wall. Everything is soaked in blood.

I shake my chained arm. “Now that I have sunk to what you are?”

I keep pulling and prodding at you, though avoiding your wounds, trying to bring you back to a state of lucidity.

-🔥

My head feels muddled, as if it's been shoved into a tub of water and filled with it. My mind is shutting down on me. The sheer agony that my ravaged body is in is more than I've ever felt in my long life.

I'm... broken.

My one good eye lazily flits towards you, but even then it's all but unseeing. So much blood coats my body that it can feed you for a week, and my breaths are hoarse and rattling.

I don't move or respond. I'm in shock.

[your-whumpee]

I don’t know what foods you would prefer, so I end up heating up some chicken noodle soup.

That high from watching you struggle is still going strong, like warm sparkles down my spine and to my fingertips. You’re perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a better toy- I really should have tipped those delivery workers more.

If heard good things about the quality of items they procure, but you’ve really exceeded my expectations.

That sweet thing in my basement- with pretty eyes and a voice meant for begging, whimpering, and screaming.

I bring a bowl of soup down the stairs, along with a jug of water.

“Hey sweetie, I hope you like chicken soup.”

Opening the cell door, I step inside and set the bowl on the plain table next to your cot.

-🌱

The moment you come in, I push myself further against the wall, shaking like a wet dog. I'm still sitting on the floor exactly where you left me.

I stare up at you with wide, glistening eyes. The food smells good, but I'm too afraid to trust it. You've given me no reason to trust you before now so I don't see why I should start. Maybe the food is poisoned, or drugged. Even if I'm starving, I'm too afraid to do anything but stare at you with eyes full of fear.

"Wh-why are you doing this to me?" I choke out at last, voice hoarse. "What—what do you want?"

[your-whumpee]

Leaving you in the cell for a moment, and come back with a small laundry basket. Inside, I’ve set a folded towel and plain clothes. Dark grey drawstring pants and a white shirt, both a size too big.

I was clearly prepared for a new occupant for my basement, new sheets, new clothes, everything cleaned off, just for you.

“I’ll get you your dinner soon.”

I set the basket inside your cell, and turn you around by your arms and remove the cuffs. I’m sure to lock the bars behind me when I head down the hall and upstairs. Leaving you with a bit of time alone- the first you’ve had since being taken.

-🌱

Once you are gone I immediately grab the basket, drying myself off hurriedly as if I feel like you would return and take it all away. I don't know if this is some trick. It doesn't make sense for you to be kind. But I don't waste this opportunity.

I then begin to peel the wet clothes off my body, looking around nervously for cameras. I wouldn't be surprised if you had some hidden inside the cell, and it makes me feel uncomfortable and exposed. So I hunch over as much as possible while I strip. My movements are clumsy, shaky, yet desperately as I pull on the clothes. Desperate for some warmth and relief in this horrible hell.

Soon I am finished , and I slump against the wall, hot tears running down my face. I don't understand why this is happening to me. Why are you doing this? What have I done that was so horrible to deserve such a punishment? I cover my face with both hands, crying quietly. I don't understand what I did to deserve this.

[your-whumpee]

“Do you truly think this is a place for begging?”

I’m angry. It seeps into my voice despite my attempts to return to the calm and cruel demeanour I had displayed to you before I had been bitten.

Your blood splatters on my face, and I lick alway what I can reach with my tounge. As much as I hate to admit it, it tastes amazing. My stomach screams for more, but I only continue to lick my face as I tear at yours.

“Maybe if I get rid of this pesky skin of yours, I’ll finally be able to see the real you.”

Because I know I have not seen it yet. I know you are hiding something from me. I know you cannot truly be what you have broken down to become. I know you cannot be this good.

-🔥

My screams are garbled and horrible, barely human, as my very skin is tore off me. I am barely coherent anymore, the pain pushing me to the edge of lucidity. I feel as if I'm trapped in a nightmare I cannot wake up from, and never will wake up from.

Nothing feels real. Even the pain begins to feel distant, as I drown in my own blood.

[your-whumpee]

(I forgot to mention undoing the restraints 😖

Also, the new occupant is you, silly. I made sure to get everything ready before having an adorable little morsel delivered right to my doorstep ❤️)

-🌱

(ooc: HELPPP do you want me to edit?? I can edit so that the restraints are undone??)

[your-whumpee]

I leave you in the cell for a moment, and come back with a small laundry basket. Inside, I’ve set a folded towel and plain clothes. Dark grey drawstring pants and a white shirt, both a size too big.

I was clearly prepared for a new occupant for my basement.

“I’ll get you your dinner soon.”

I set the basket inside your cell, and lock the bars behind me when I head down the hall and upstairs. Leaving you with a bit of time alone- the first you’ve had since being taken.

-🌱

I eye the basket helplessly, wanting desperately to dry myself off but unable to with my hands still behind my back. Did you do this just to make me feel even more miserable than I already am? I strain my wrists against the ropes to no avail, then try to use my foot to grab the basket, but it's no use.

I slump against the wall, hot tears running down my face. I don't want to think about the implications of a new occupant—either they'd suffer alongside me, or you were planning on getting rid of me. And likely not in the way I hoped.

I continue to shiver as I wait for you to return, clothes drying much too slowly for me to even notice. Would you get mad at me for not changing? I'm afraid to find out.

[your-whumpee]

(No worries about the late reply, life happens :) )

I watch the knife as it’s flung across the room. It’s obvious you’re weak, the knife in the air for but a moment, but it slides across the floor and comes clattering to a stop just out of both of our reach.

“Why?” My gaze is focused on the blade even after it stops moving. “Why didn’t you…?”

I trail off, unsure of what I am truly trying to ask. Why didn’t you hurt me back? Take your revenge? Give into yourself? Try to regain some strength?

Why has that only made me more angry?

I look back at you, at your broken and bloody form. Then I turn my gaze to the chain around my wrist, the wound on my arm nearly completely healed. I look at my hand, still marred with burns. Back at you. At the knife. At my wrist. My hand.

What gives you the right to have that kind of say? To decide how we are going to spend this time? To decide the consequences of your own actions?

“You don’t get to decide!”

I lunge for you, grabbing your shirt to drag you closer to me. Then my hand goes for your face, digging into and stretching out your wounds, your eye, your lips. I rip and claw with an animalistic ferociousness. I ignore the pain in my burned hand. I can feel the chain digging into my other wrist.

You don’t get to control whether or not you deserve kindness.

-🔥

"PLEASE-!"

The noises that come from my throat are horrendous. Truthfully, logically, I shouldn't be alive anymore, yet the curse of immortality keeps me alive. The pain is so immense that I can no longer think—only thrash weakly as my face is ravaged and torn.

I choke on my blood. My flesh is torn. My screams are garbled and I only buck weakly against you. But there is nothing I can do to escape your wrath, or the monster I've created.

[your-whumpee]

“Come on sweetheart, let’s take you back to your cell.”

I take out my key and reach into the water, unlocking one of your ankles. I pull you from the tub by one arm, and guide you back to the hall.

“I’ll get you a towel and dry clothes if you can behave for me.”

You don’t know how long it’s been, but you’re wearing the same clothes as when you were grabbed and dragged into a sedan, and a needle plunged into your neck.

-🌱

(No worries about taking a bit, I get that)

I shudder involuntarily at the nickname but stumble along anyway. I shiver once the frigid air hits my skin, and I stay quiet, if only to get some form of comfort in this hell. I glance longingly down the hall, but with the restraints still on I know there's no hope of escaping yet. I hang my head and continue following you.

[your-whumpee]

(Pushing walker over anon)

I fall the same way, harder than you did, arguably. I look up at you with wide eyes.

I mimic you and say, "Hey-hey, what the hell..?"

-✨️

I give you a bewildered and incredulous look. "... you're the one who pushed me first?? What the hell's wrong with you?"

[your-whumpee]

Looks like I’ll be going with electric shock then ❤️

-🌱

"WAIT-!"

[your-whumpee]

“Not good enough, sweetheart.”

I push your head under, and hold you for just a few seconds, before pulling you back up. You get only half a breath in before you’re back under.

Another few seconds, then another half a breath-

Keeping you feeling like you’re on the edge of drowning.

You loose track of how many times I dunk you under the surface. When I finally do let go of you, I’m soaked to, standing over you in the tub.

“Hmm. I think I’m finally done with that. As pretty as you are struggling under water, I think it’s just about time for a break.”

-🌱

I choke and gasp for breath, tears streaming down my cheeks along with the water that sticks my hair and clothes to my skin. Please, I just want this to be over. Please.

I stare up at you, still heaving pathetically for air as I pull my legs up as close to me as I can, struggling to keep my head above the water due to my exhaustion. My arms ache by now as I feebly pull against my restraints, trying to at least sit up against the tub, but my body isn't responding to me.

[your-whumpee]

I push the knife in deeper, carving into you. But it’s hard with all your squirming and jerking, and my other hand can no longer reach you to hold you steady. Really, you are doing all the hard work for me, tearing your own wound apart with your movements.

I watch as your hands come up and try to grab the knife, and I watch as they burn and come back down. Suddenly, I am much more worried about my hand slipping. It’s soaked in blood, and with all your jerking around…

Just as I feared, my hand slips down the knife, touching the silver blade.

It burns. But not in the same way as fire. It’s this otherworldly feeling that takes a hold of me and all I can focus on is the pain.

I release my grip, jerking my hand away, leaving the knife stuck firmly into you.

-🔥

I'm not sure how I haven't passed out yet. I'm choking on air and saliva as I try to jerk my arm free, but my body is so weak now.

"S-stop, please-"

I reach for the bloodied handle of the knife, yanking desperately. Soon it's too much and I simply yank the knife through remains of my arm, slicing through it. Then I throw the knife as far away as I can.

[your-whumpee]

I'm just gonna abruptly push Walker to the floor. Don't mind me taking a few steps back and watching their reaction.

I fall on my bottom, grunting in pain. My eyes glaze as I glare back up at you, hands clenching into fists. "Hey, what the hell?!" I snapped, pushing myself back onto my feet. I march over to you and push you back, as hard as I can.