This is me figuring out some Gallows Creek world building, trying to get Henry’s vibes right, putting my two cents in on what would happen to Henry semi realistically as well with horror movie logic, etc..kinda not proofread lmfao
May become a series cuz I fuck with this tbh
Also making fanart soon, doing some research n stuff to figure out how I think the characters would look like (ik we got photos but it’s more so my HCs of them ig lmfao)
The Night He Came Home.
(Henry Barrow x GN!Reader)
🦷 Canon Typical Violence.
(1/?)
Masterlist.
🔪🎶🔪🎶
Finger tips smeared blood along your jaw, you wanted to flinch away at the contact but you stayed deadly still out of fear. You were too tired to flee even if you wanted to run until you couldn’t anymore. A serial killer was on top of you, donning a blood splattered, mostly white mask so pale it made even the moon envious, he stared down at you with black voids for eyes with black locks adorning his head, framing his mask like a black veil.
He was so close, you could smell the stench of blood rolling off of him alongside musk, your nose twitching at the overwhelming stench that reek from him.
You weren’t unaware of who this was, this was the infamous Henry Barrow, the Whistling Man.
The Whistling Slaughters of 1987, many lives were taken that night and many had been saved from the clutches of death because of Peggy Weaver and Forrest Nash, two employees of the 189.16 KFAM station who had handled the 911 calls that night. It’s been a couple of years since the murder spree.
You were fortunate enough to have been out of town at the time, as you were visiting your grandparents in Henderson to help them out with moving things around their house. At the time, you were living with your parents in Gallows Creek, staying with them to be able to save up enough money to get your own place in town. Thankful that your parents were safe when you came back the next day, finding out that your parents could’ve been potentially murdered was not something you’d want to find after coming home from a nice, lovely visit from your grandparents’ place.
The mood in Gallows Creek had reasonably dampened after that night because of the truth being revealed about a past incident that had been covered up and the brutal killings, in the recent years, however, things had slowly become lighter as time passed. The lives lost weren’t forgotten, they were remembered and even had a plaque made in honor of them that you frequently see having fresh flowers placed there.
Not all deaths from that night were honored though.
Marie Campbell, the mastermind behind the duo of the Whistling Men, was reported over the radio in real time to have disappeared after running away from the police, later on in the night she had jumped off Whistling Point, the same place where her boyfriend died all those years ago, to escape police custody.
They had never found her body even years later, it was presumed that she was most likely dead due to the height of the drop.
It was somewhat poetic in a way..dying the same way and place as your lover had, you wondered if they did find her body would they bury her alongside George? Although her actions were wrong and she had taken lives, the “prank” had led to a horrible tragedy and ripped two families apart. The Barrow family and the Campbell family, both torn from a loss of their children but in two different ways. Marie was clearly heartbroken, she had no one to turn to for help and had to handle raising their baby alone.
Would it be considered cruel if they buried her all alone or would it be fine since she had killed people?
That was a discussion for another time..
This has meant that Henry Barrow, the unknown son of George Barrow and Marie Campbell, was all alone. Henry had gotten arrested after trying to flee from the radio station once the police arrived, he was overpowered by the amount of police and was put into police custody after being checked into the hospital for the bullet wounds he got from that night.
You heard it truly baffled many authorities and doctors that there was zero record of him in the databases, doctors had to be careful to make sure he wasn’t allergic to any medication given to him while in recovery. After the hospital declared him good to go, he was swiftly taken to the police station. His finger prints were taken, his photograph taken as well and all that he had on his body was bagged for evidence, it was said that his criminal record was the first ever evidence of his very existence.
Henry’s criminal record was deemed his birth certificate.
Alongside that sad truth, there was so much legal trouble that came after his arrest, authorities of all kinds had discourse over where he shall be placed due to if he was considered completely insane or was mentally stable enough to handle a trial in court.
There were whispers of him never speaking during the whole ordeal, not even when a lawyer came in to speak with him about the trial. Hell, even a well known psychiatrist that came into town just to take a shot at getting him to talk couldn’t crack him open.
It was decided that he was deemed mentally unstable to be around others and too unstable to enter society, this decision was made due to the facts that his upbringing was almost entirely cratered to be an obedient killing machine and his complete hermit behavior that was exhibited since capture was deemed socially unfit. It was made a point that he may not have even been entirely aware of his actions because of his mother making it quite clear that she trained him since he was young, that sort of upbringing can easily have one’s rights and wrongs manipulated to fit the benefiter’s desires.
There were lots of arguments and agreements over his mental state and behavior, if he was aware or not and so forth..in the end, instead of being placed in a prison, he would be placed in a psychiatric facility.
The news of his placement not being behind bars had rattled the town, there were protests and uproar about this decision. Those who had a loved one lost that night were angry that he wouldn’t be rotting away in a prison cell, some understood that it was a strange situation that wouldn’t end the way that they may not want…either way but the decision was final.
There were still some who disagreed with the decision but it quieted down as time moved on, Henry was placed in a psychiatric facility quite far from Gallows Creek which made a sense of ease go over the town and the psychiatrist that had visited Henry became his primary psychiatrist at the facility from what you had heard..
It was 4 years after he managed to escape from the psychiatric facility, it struck utter fear into the town with everyone looking over their shoulders, everyone paranoid about if he would return to seek revenge not only for his father but now for his mother too..but days turned into weeks, months and then years of nothing happening. There were some stupid pranks made by teens that thought it was funny to mess with the town, but besides that there were no incidents that connected to Henry Barrow.
The police couldn’t find him, even though they had searched high and low in the surrounding areas of the facility and Gallows Creek.
Curfews had taken place since then so no one could stay out too long at night for safety alongside with police patrolling around Gallows Creek, but with no unusual activity and the safety measures taken place the people of Gallows Creek had settled down after. The belief that he had died out in the wilderness after his escape prospered until it was just told as if it were a 100% fact.
During that time you had moved out of your parents’ place and into your own place in town, it’s a nice home that was nestled between two other houses on Myers Lane. Your move wasn’t very far really, your parents lived just across town on Axe-Down Lane, a bit of forestry separating them from the Mac’s Diner you guys would go to for breakfast whenever your dad burnt breakfast.
You were quite proud of yourself for finally having a place to call your own, but now that pride you had was wiped from the face of the earth and replaced with massive amounts of regret for not taking up your concerned grandparents’ offer of moving in with them after the killings.
You really wish you took up their offer because you had a dead pizza delivery guy on your floor and a serial killer touching your face with his bloody fingers.
You had to stop yourself from gagging as the memory of the corpse on the ground flashed in your head, guts spewed out and his poor face slashed open by a knife. You close your eyes, feeling his fingers rise further up from your jaw and continue to trace each curve of your face with blood being left behind where he touched you.
Surrounding you both was a mess, blood splattered all over the floor and wall, your flower filled vase was shattered, broken lamp pieces coated in blood…all the signs that there was a fight for survival.
Earlier you had opened your front door, ready to pay for the Ponty’s pizza that you ordered over the phone after finishing putting away the last remaining belongings of yours from the moving boxes that you had been procrastinating on going through.
All you wanted was to treat yourself to a cheesy early dinner while you watched whatever program was on that evening.
As you handed the money over, the delivery boy gave you a voice cracked ‘Thank you’ and before you both knew it, the moment your hand touched his, the whistling began.
But the delivery guy and you noticed the whistling a second too late.
You were first to notice the large dark figure quickly striding up towards you both, the white mask standing out from his all dark clothes. You let out a startled yelp, the delivery boy quickly spun around to see what made you scared, once his eyes landed on the masked figure, he let out a shriek, “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” dropping the pizza on your patio in his panic.
You snatched his arm and pulled him towards your door and tried to shut the door after the delivery guy scrambled inside and stood behind you, but the figure's large body slammed into the door before you could fully shut it.
The force of the door swinging back open knocked you backwards, colliding with the fearful guy behind you and led to you both tumbling to the floor and you landing on top of him, leading to both of you being disoriented alongside frantic to get up from the ground. The Whistling Man stood there in the doorway with his shadow swallowing you both whole, his fists were clenched and shaking, like pure anger was surging through him just at the sight of you two being so close in proximity.
You both scrambled to get up from the ground after getting away from one another, The Whistling Man stalked into your home quickly and slammed the door shut behind him, a noticeable ’click!’ reached your ears meaning the door was locked.
Your ankle was snatched right before you were able to get up from the ground, making you fall back on your back again which knocked the air out of you due to the harsh landing. Your pained wheeze was cut short by the loud cry that ripped from your throat as you’re dragged towards the looming killer, you attempt to break free by kicking with all your might whilst trying to yank yourself free from his grasp. “Let go!” You screeched.
The teen was able to get up from the ground and more fear spilled into your body when he left your sight, making you think he had fucking left you here. Dread pooled through your entire body as you get yanked further towards the deranged man.
“Eat this, bitch!”
A lamp comes into view, the teen quickly slamming the lamp from the side table beside your couch onto the assailant’s head. The lamp shattered upon impact, relief flooded your system, fucking overjoyed that he didn’t leave you for dead.
The Whistling Man let you go, snarling in anger at the attack which gave you enough time to get to your feet and put distance between you two, you grabbed the teen’s wrist to try and escape to the back door.
The Whistling Man was faster and far stronger though.
He snatched the back of the young man’s shirt and yanked him back so violently he was ripped from your grasp and had no time to attempt at grabbing him again, “Let go of me!” The teenager screeched at the man. The two quickly found themselves on the ground, tussling and throwing punches and jabs. You gotta admit, the kid was putting up a good fight.
You bolted to grab anything you could use as a weapon like the kid had done earlier with the lamp but as your hands found the sturdy flower vase your mother had gifted you as a little gift for your newly bought home, an ear piercing screech filled the air.
Your eyes snapped back at the two tussling men, the killer had quickly brandished a knife and had viscously jabbed it into the boy’s stomach once he finally got the upper hand and got on top of the delivery guy. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him getting gutted like a goddamn pig. Alongside the knife ripping the fabric, the blood that began spewing out soaked the Ponty’s pizza uniform that he wore.
Bile rises in your throat, almost vomiting your guts out onto the floor but you didn’t want to just stand there and do nothing, you had to save the poor kid.
You lifted the face and tried to slam the vase down onto the killer’s head with all your might but the killer yanked the knife from the boy’s slashed open belly and swiped at your thigh with the blood-covered blade. Leading to your skin being sliced open, a deep wound instantly spewing blood down your leg.
You cried out in pain and lurch backwards causing you to drop the vase, it shatters upon contact with the ground which ruined your plan of using it to harm the Whistling Man. In that moment, the killer abandoned the bleeding boy and grabbed your lower calf in a tight grip to yank you forward towards him resulting in you falling backwards and hitting the back of your head on the hard floor.
The Whistling Man quickly got off the dying delivery guy and climbed on top of you before you could even attempt to get up, he stuck the knife into the ground to the side so he could wrap both of his blood soaked hands around your throat.
A growl escaped from his throat, low and chilling. You tried to take a gulp of air before his fingers could restrict airflow, he then started to choke you making you let out gurgled choked cries, you clawed with all your might at his wrists to try and get him to loosen his grip but your fingers kept making contact with the leather gloves and his coat sleeves.
You attempted to kick your feet like you had earlier to try and land somewhere to give you any kind of an opening to escape but the way he knelt on top of you limited your legs movements, his grip on your throat getting tighter.
Tears rolled down your cheeks and your vision was getting blurrier and blurrier, you let go of one of his wrists and reached upwards to claw at his mask but your strength had grown quite weak. Your attempts at clawing were more like you were trying to crease him, unnoticeably it made him shudder at the touch with a quiet, shaky breath escaping him too.
Your eyes were fluttering shut as your hand that was near his mask went slightly limp and fell to the ground and the other that had a once tight grip on his wrist loosened until you couldn’t hold on anymore, no longer having the strength to hold up your arm nor try to pull at his wrist.
When it almost became too dark to see the mask of the man who was about to kill you, the restriction around your throat had disappeared suddenly allowing you to gasp for air, gulping down air greedily to be able to fill your lungs with much needed oxygen.
Your vision returns slowly but surely, the killer had gotten off of you before grabbing his knife while you tried to regain the strength that was drained from you. You see his blurry figure go back to the kid who had tried to scoot away while the killer was distracted with almost choking you to death. You coughed hard as you tried to breathe, throat aching painfully as you did.
You could hear the boy's faint pleas for his life but the sound of slicing flesh and gurgled wails silenced those pleas until there were no more pleas.
The grotesque noises overwhelm your ears, you snap your eyes shut immediately after glancing over at what was being done to the guy. Not wanting to witness the horrors being done to that poor kid anymore.
Your heart was pounding, your ears were ringing and the throbbing pain on the back of your head was becoming more noticeable as time passed.
‘I don’t want to die..’
You had thought which led to fresh tears rolling down your cheeks while the adrenaline faded allowing pain from your current injuries finally settle in. You let out a sob of dread at the thought of dying in your newly bought home, you wanted to make memories here like you had in your childhood home, like you had at your grandparents’ home..you just wanted your own little place where you can be joined by your loved ones.
‘Maybe I could survive this if I can just..’
Opening your eyes and using all of your strength to sit up slowly so you could try to crawl towards the front door, it was fucking ballsy considering he was close to it but if you were able to get to it without being noticed, unlock it and use the power of wanting to survive this shit to get you on your fucking feet and bolt to one of your neighbors for help. You may be able to survive this.
Your eyes land on the Whistling Man, who was still distracted with his brutal attack on the dead delivery guy, still stabbing and tearing into his corpse viscously like the guy had personally offended him somehow. The sight was sickening, the delivery guy’s fucking eye was even hanging out of the socket.
A shudder ran through your body as you slowly rolled over so you were now laying on your stomach, you bit your lip hard to keep in your pained whines as the gash in your leg burned fiercely, you could feel the sticky warm blood pour from it.
Your floors are covered in blood, when you survive this..fuck- if you survive this..you’re gonna tear out the damn floors if you can’t somehow get the blood out.
Slowly, you began to crawl as quietly as you could to not alert the mad man, aiming to try and get out of his field of vision by getting behind him. Cringing with each stinging pain that flared up in your body, it was so hard to keep the noises that threatened to escape you with each movement you made down. The ringing in your ears and the pounding of your heartbeat alongside it was muffling any other noise as you lessen the distance between you and the door, the waning distance caused your small hope of survival to grow as you got closer to the door.
You managed to get onto your hands and knees so you could be tall enough to reach the door knob, with a shaky hand you took hold of the lock and slowly twisted it to quietly unlock it whilst you slowly got to your feet to get ready to bolt. Growing anxiety made your body tremble but a new wave of adrenaline washed over you as the hope of escaping became more and more of a reality.
‘click!’
The silence was so loud after you unlocked the front door, quickly turning the doorknob to get the door open as fast as possible while the sound of shifting fabric and hurried footsteps reached your ears. You threw open the door and booked it but blood caked, strong arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you backwards, you let out a blood curling scream as you quick and thrashed as hard as you could as you got dragged back inside.
“HELP! HELP ME PLEASE!” You screamed as loud as you could, a loud grunt escaping the killer that held you tight as your thrashing caused some difficulty. He lifted you enough to where your feet weren’t even close to touching the ground, making you realize the tall height he had.
He slammed the door shut and you let out a heartbroken wail, your freedom being locked away behind the door once again.
Henry Barrow throws you to the ground, you cry out in pain as you land on your wounded thigh when you hit the floor. You just lay there and weep, body trembling with each broken sob, you didn't bother to get up and didn’t bother to fight him as he got on top of you and turned you on your back.
Eyes oh so glassy and full of tears, you watched him as he cocked his head slowly to the side, heavy breathing escaping him from all that had happened. His entire front was covered in blood, his mask having splatters of blood ruining the pale white and blood was dribbling down his cheek like he was crying blood.
Some of the droplets landed on your face, making you flinch each time. A noise of some kind escaped his throat, sounding like a hum of sorts. One of his hands reached towards your face, bloody fingers grazing the droplet on your flesh which led to him smearing the blood along your skin.
That’s how you ended up with the deranged serial killer on top of you, touching your face in a way that made you think he was trying to memorize each curve. You hoped, fuck you absolutely hoped that the screams from earlier and your scream when you were outside for a few seconds was enough, you didn’t want your poor parents to find out that their kid died..oh god the poor parents of the delivery kid…
“Please…” you whimper out, “Please, Henry..don’t kill me..” your throat hurts so bad, raw from the screaming,crying and surely bruised from being choked hard earlier. You shut your eyes, continuing to cry as you plead one last time for your life.
There was a quiet sigh after a moment of silence.
Before anything else could happen. Police sirens could be heard, your eyes snapped open and looked at the window near your front door as flashing red and blue lights peaked through the window and a croaked cry of joy escaped your throat at the sight, not caring about the killer on top of you anymore. Henry sneered at the sight of the cops, muttering a curse before getting off of you.
There was shouting outside, too muffled for you to hear until they were shouting right outside your door.
“This is the Gallows Creek Police! Open up!”
Henry seemed to hesitate for a second, looking at the door then back at you, he made his decision with whatever he was thinking and quickly booked it to the back entrance of your house to escape police custody like he had done many years ago.
The door slams open, armed officers having their pistols raised make their way inside, your vision begins to get blurry again. You were too tired to get up, too tired to shed anymore tears as you just laid there on the bloody ground.
You try to fight the heaviness of your eyelids to stop them from closing, knowing that with how hard you hit your head that you may not wake up later. You croak out a quiet “help..”, but the police took notice of the sight of you before hearing your pathetically quiet plea for help. Quickly, an office came to your side while the other two scoped out the place to make sure the coast was clear.
Your vision grew darker as you heard muffled voices all around you, the cop beside you being the most clear out of them all, “it’s alright, I got you, my name is Officer Martinaz, you’re safe now..”.
With that, your eyes finally closed as you muttered out incoherent words as you barely clung to consciousness, you were so fucking tired.
And hungry..man you were still hungry..
🔪🎶🔪🎶
Thank you for reading!!!!
Gotta admit, the pacing is a bit off but I have family over, college assignments to do and a headache atm but I pushed through so I could finally get one of the 6 Wips I got of him done lmfaoooo
This was my first public posting of my writing, debated about sharing it here considering I’m not super into spooky month anymore…As well it’s not good in my eyes blegh
Anyways hey why not share, here y’all go..also make sure to read the bottom note if you can, it’d be appreciated.
Originally posted on Ao3.
Anticipation.🔪
(Bob Velseb x GN!Reader)
SFW + could be considered Semi Dark Themes🪦to some.
‼️Old Writing‼️
Masterlist.
You are his perfect victim..until you weren't. Bob doesn't know why he allows this mess to keep going and you have grown tired of it.
🍔🔪🍔🔪
Bob couldn’t help the sneer that left his throat as his grip on yours tightened considerably. It forces you to attempt to breathe in what air you can before he cuts it off completely. Your nails dig into the red leather gloves that the towering serial killer wore, trying to claw at his wrist and hand in a desperate attempt to escape from the madman’s clutches..but it was no use. The red clothed giant has strength and he was using it well to press you against the wall. As he’s pinning you like a predator with prey that had a nasty habit of bolting, you feel you should have more fear right now. Unfortunately, you and the devil have danced this same dance too many times before, and it always ends with the devil tucking tail and leaving you more traumatized than the last deadly encounter.
You’ve grown sick of it, you’ve grown angry and resentful towards this monster more and more since you’ve caught wind that this brute is tormenting this town. The survivors' guilt of being the only one to play this cat and mouse game with this devil and survive in the end has been chewing you up like a piece of gum. You thought it was only sheer luck at first to have not been yet another victim of the Butcher Devil, yet it’s as if some guardian has been showing pity by saving you from a gruesome fates. Now, you truly believe whatever force allowed this game to go on was nothing but cruel and sinister, laughing at your misfortune of being the plaything of the local serial killer that has stolen so many peoples’ lives. It revolted you how the demon just stared at you like this was your fault. His eyes narrow and his usual large, nightmare fuel of a grin pulls back into a grimace. It’s almost as if he was disgusted by this game too, disgusted by something you’ve done to lead to this mess. All it does is make your seething anger boil and deteriorating sanity wilt. Your eyes must show the pure hatred you have for him as something flickers in his fixated gaze, like a realization finally hit him and he’s trying to process it. His grip loosens to a much softer hold on your throat, but that only lasts for a split moment before he ripped his hand away. As if your flesh was hot metal, the Butcher Devil stares at his hand like it was burned while you fell to the wooden floor- coughing and gasping for much needed air.
You rub your throat with a shaky hand, trying to soothe the soreness with the semi coldness of your hand. Judging by the pain, you know a bruise would be collar your neck, tainting your hide with an assortment of blue and green hues. How embarrassing. It seems like every encounter with this fat red guy led to some sort of bruising upon your flesh.
You are a delicate, brilliant fruit and the devil’s touch leaves you marred, wilting, and rotting.
He ruined you, you were perfectly normal before the torment began- you used to feel so lucky and happy to have dodged death. However, paranoia grew and fed into your fears about what happened- so is it really any relief that he lets you live? Every visit and abrupt exit are reminders that your life could end when he chooses- yet he continues to put you through endless torment. You just want to live your days without having to fear a surprise death and appreciate your existence. Constantly, you are left in the throes of paranoia, and it finally blooms into hatred and frustration- al because HE continues to toy with your life to try. You would fight back when you needed, fled when you needed to, but when he invitably caught you in his grasp..
He would just stare.
His hand would tremble as his grip tightened around his knife, and his smile strained as he panted and drooled. He would get close, sniff your hair, lick the sweat coated flesh of your neck, and even dragged his hot tongue across a cut on your cheek that he made with his trusty blade. This horned murderer was tasting you all those times- indulging his disturbing, sick appetite for human flesh. His delight showed the low rumbles of insane giggling, and it never failed to send violent chills and shudders down your spine. It made bile rise from the pit of your stomach; you felt like throwing up at the thought of being devoured by a freak in a devil costume.
You knew his attacks on you weren’t random; he knew you in some way. Maybe he knew you somehow? Could he be someone you see every day? Is he a person who pretends to care for you in order to get close, only to reveal who he is to betray and slaughter you? Judging by the way things have been going, you assume he’s more likely to be some deranged stalker escapee from the asylum.
Who would go to such lengths to just ruin your life?
Either way, he seems to have learned your schedule: When you leave work, go shopping, or go to the park for your random midnight walks- he always knows where you are. His presence leaves an overbearing mark on your mind, making it feel as if he’s skulking closer and closer. Often times, you swear you’ve felt breathing down your neck too- though no visible sign of the horned bastard ever turns up.
The cops have probably grown tired of your calls, you had grown to personally know the two detectives that were on the case- you were on a first name basis and hell! You even knew the names of their family members and their birthdays. You knew they were just doing their job, but you could feel their frustrations once they arrived at the scene only for the mountain of a man to have somehow easily escaped into the night.
You felt like you’ve failed them, you felt like you’ve failed the town by not being able to give the police force more information because you have survived so many times. You hated it, you hated that disgusting mask of people’s flesh and hated whoever it was behind that fucking mask for making your life a living nightmare.
“I fucking hate you.”
The mouth of the devil was open- like he was about to say something but it immediately snapped shut the second you spoke so bitterly towards him with your head hung low. Staring down at the floor that had many droplets of blood, your blood. It’s all over your pants, you’ve noticed, and your shirt. Ruining the clothing that you wore to sleep, the clothing that you wore for comfort, just wanting to go to bed in your comfy blankets and have a good day tomorrow.
But this sick cycle keeps going whenever he fucking shows up.
You know how it’ll be like tomorrow after this, stricken with fear and paranoia, having to be questioned, having to explain that the fucker just left you alive, and ohhhh how you know how it’ll be for weeks afterwards- receiving pitiful looks as you go down the street from the people who recognize your face from the news. You had even gotten looks of resentment from those who’s loved ones had died by the hands of the killer with no game of cat and mouse attached. Just brutal slaughtering.
“Why? Why do you keep doing this?” You wheezed out- throat straining painfully from the tight grip he had earlier, sniffling softly as tears began to burn your eyes. You grit your teeth after taking a sharp intake of air, trying so hard not to fucking sob and embarrass yourself in front of the blood thirsty serial killer towering over you like so many times before in previous encounters, who was still wielding the blade that was pressed to your stomach only seconds ago, ready to gut you like a pig- You wish he did, so this game could finally end. The devil only watches you though, not uttering a single word, no hysterical laughter or chuckle, no fun fucking fact about cannibalism. He was eerily quiet, like he was waiting for you to solve the mystery of why he keeps letting you go, now and many times before. That pissed you off even more, you didn’t want to guess what was going on in that fucking head of his. You didn’t want to solve this goddamn mystery like it was some episode of Scooby-Doo, you wanted the goddamn straight forward answer and for this cycle to finally come to an end- not even caring if the result is your death.
You turn your head up, giving a nasty glare to the Butcher Devil. “You’re fucking pathetic.” This was definitely stupid, talking to him like this- as it was basically a one way ticket to death’s door but your cares for surviving were long gone the moment this unwanted game became repetitive.
“You keep attacking me, strangling me and busting me up like I’m some fucking dog toy and then you split off instead of killing me!” You sneer venomously, pain flaring immediately when your body had lurched forward from how harshly you sneered and you quickly clench the bleeding wound on your side, soaking your hand with dark crimson.
Your legs felt like jelly as you shifted in your spot on the floor, your head felt heavy and dizzy. Have you lost that much blood? Was it finally getting to you? Fuck- it made you stagger as you slowly rose from the ground, leaning against the wall for support as you did so. You thought that he would finally attack you for moving but he only stood there and watched as you stood, keeping balance by leaning just a bit of your body against the wall of your home. You wet your lips, the killer’s breath hitching as you did so. His piercing eyes trained on the way your tongue ran across your upper lip.
Bob’s jaw clenched, feeling something unusually warm in his gut beginning to burn hotter. It wasn’t the burning sensation of hunger like he was so used to, the burn that drove him to satisfy by feasting on the flesh of people. His teeth and tongue have been stained more than he can count with the blood of many that he had sunk his jaws into, he adored the taste. Feeling the warm liquid mix with his spit, the tangy taste of raw meat going down his throat when he was feeling peckish and was in a hurry. His body once tried to reject such consumption but it had learned to crave it, to depend on it for survival like he had to the first time he consumed another.
This burning sensation was not of hunger, it was something darker..more primitive and feral. Something that made him tip the edge of truly losing himself, maybe it was the taste of your blood finally getting to him- he had been lacking in restocking his usual kind of meat for a good while, causing him to starve his true diet and have to eat regular meals, but he had tasted your blood before- He always does when he comes to finally end your life, licking it off his knife as he corners you or licking it from the source- a wound upon your flesh.
Your blood was something he truly favored amongst the others he had tasted, he realized that when he first attacked you, you were so frightened, shaking like a leaf during an autumn day of howling winds. He had cut the side of your neck, close to your pulse. He could almost feel the thumping of your pulse through the knife, oh your poor heart must’ve been pounding against your ribcage like a wild caged animal trying to be set free.
He had licked the blood off his knife, watching how your eyes honed in on his tongue lapping up your blood. Your eyes were so wide, like a deer in headlights, with tears rolling down your cheeks. Hiccups and pleading for life left your trembling lips, as if you were praying to god for salvation. It made his usual grin even wider, cruel and sadistic desires fueled him into letting you go after playing with you just a bit more with his knife cutting your skin.
Watching you freeze up for a moment in pure confusion before kicking yourself into overdrive once it dawned on you that he was giving you an opening to escape- scrambling away from him like a deer trying to escape oncoming traffic, running to the front door of your home and ripping it open. He didn’t fully understand why he actually let you go in the end after taking a step forward towards you and pausing, he was going to snatch you back up before you could reach the door. To give you that hope that maybe you’ll survive the fate he had in store for you..but he would immediately rip it away, making your gruesome fate even more delightful for him. To make your meat even tastier.
But..he had let you rush out as he just stood there, watching as you roared out cries and pleas into the cold, night air of fall, begging for help from anyone to save you from the monster that lurked inside your home. He knew he couldn’t stay long once you disappeared from his line of sight, so he had left. A cruel smile still on his lips as his mind mulled over the taste of your blood, your blood was like any other in taste and all other categories there is to describing blood, that’s what he had originally thought, but upon doing some digging- more like a cult member owing him a favor and Bob taking advantage of that- he discovered that your blood type was type O negative..
The universal donor…
What a treat the universe had brought to him.
He was planning on slaughtering you the next time he attacked, he knew he couldn’t play with you for long next time, the local cops were hogging up your place because you had survived an attack by the Butcher Devil- something that had not happened before..he never let his prey slip from his claws, neither did he let you because he had willingly let you go- that didn’t mean you had gotten away on your own..that’s what he had thought at first.
He had to wait for a good while till he could strike again, needing the heat to die down and for you to feel..settled, it was amusing seeing you so jumpy and wide eyed whenever you thought you heard or saw something out of the ordinary- but your paranoia meant that your senses were heightened considerably. You were far too aware of your surroundings, your hand always twitching towards your phone whenever you heard an odd noise or thought to have seen something move in the corner of your eye, it made his sneaking around and watching you much harder. So he pulled back.
In the meantime, as he ran his diner, you came in more often, allowing him to gain your trust and give you the sense that he and his diner can be a safe place for you to seek out. Truly, you weren’t some random pick of the bunch for him to try and kill, he took time learning things about the people of this town before striking, making sure who he needed to avoid due to their involvements and/or quality of meat, who dying would get more attention than the other and so on..he learned his prey first, got them to open up to him, the local diner owner who always wore a bright cheery smile and made the best damn burgers in all of Arizona. He was proud of that title, proud that his cooking skills got people flocking to his diner’s door.
That’s how he learned about you, a fresh face amongst the regular folk one day outta the blue. He had heard before that there was some newbie moving in, but he didn’t have the time to look into it nor did he really bother to care as he was busy with keeping up with his diner and his routine on restocking the freezer. You had come in during rush hour, orders were being made left and right by hungry customers looking for a good meal to fill their bellies with, Bob busy in the back, slaving over the grill with genuine dedication to make them burgers that many have praised him for. He didn’t pay too much attention to your face when setting your order down at your table after finishing it up, his mind busy with other orders that needed tending to. “Here ya go-“ he cites your order as he sets it down, not noticing the way your eyes lit up at the sight of your cheeseburger, nor did he hear the hungry rumblings of your stomach- which you were thankful for- but he took notice once you thanked the large, dark haired cook, “Thank you! This looks so good!”.
Bob had then looked carefully at you, not for long however as he had to get back to the kitchen, but he had finally realized that he had never seen you before. His smile grew wider, tipping his head as a sign of appreciation “Thank ya kindly, please enjoy your meal.” The smile you gave back was bright, rivaling the sun that was shining so brightly outside in the clear blue skies. “I’m sure I will!” He didn’t stay long after that, he got back to the kitchen, the heat hitting him as soon as he did. He welcomed it, it was a comforting embrace to him- something that had always settled his nerves when he was pent up or was on edge. The kitchen was his second home.
Besides that- you were definitely new from the usual crowd, Bob knew almost everyone in the town and surely he didn’t know you. He had thought that maybe you were visiting some family in town, perhaps you were a tourist or maybe you were the one he’d been hearing about having moved into that one house on the corner that got put up for sale. Heard from a regular that it was pretty hard for the realtor to get it sold due to the gruesome crime committed in the house.
Ever since then he had taken note of your presence, he always notices you coming to his diner often. You tended to stick to the corner, hidden away from any prying eyes. Coming in during the quieter times of business, either early in the morning or later when the sun got ready to rest for the night. He had gotten to know you more and more with each visit. You have become the perfect victim in his eyes, you were the new owner of that house, you kept to yourself since moving in, you didn’t have many to call your friend and you were easy for him to gain the trust of.
You had even thanked him for being your 'friend' one time during a rainy night, it almost made him break character and laugh at your naivety. You truly are his perfect victim.
You were his perfect victim.
But now as you both have a stare down in your hallway, with you clenching your wounded side and him staring down at you like you were the only thing in existence, he believed otherwise. You were not the perfect victim that he had made you out to be in his twisted mind, you had somehow changed the fate that he had set for you the moment you told him your name when you formally introduced yourself.
Bob couldn’t help the whisper of your name because of the memory, your eyes widening for a moment upon hearing it roll off his tongue so naturally like he has said it many times before. Your ears burn and your mind becomes chaotic with thoughts of the killer’s way of saying your name sounding so familiar, you look at him with a more confused look than the hateful, spiteful one from before. Making Bob wonder if you have picked up on the way he said your name, did you recognize his voice? Did you know it was Bob underneath the red devil mask?
Why did a small part of him want that?
Your question from earlier makes its way back to his mind, he didn’t know why he was doing this. Playing with you then leaving you alive, he never plans on it, he always tells himself before hunting you that this will finally be it, the night you die by his knife. But those have become false promises to himself as he has left your home with your heart still beating, he’s grown tired of this game just as much as you have. He wants to blame you, he doesn’t need something even more wrong with him to show up and fuck up his murderous routine, he doesn’t want to be the one that’s the problem here.
Your anger fires back up once again, him saying your name and nothing more doesn’t answer your questions of why he’s doing this to you, your will to survive was broken, you’re tired, you want this over with, you want him gone.
You scoffed, the noise dragging him out of whatever the fuck he was thinking about. “We both know how this is gonna end.” With all your strength, you pushed yourself from the wall, standing there still clenching your wound. He took a step away from you, making you give him a weird look before looking down the hall that led to your bedroom, “Just fucking go.” You didn’t wait for an answer- you weren’t really expecting one to be honest, you began to limp towards your bedroom where you knew your phone was so you could call Officer John. You bit back a pained whine caused by the pain of your side, you know you’ll have to get stitches because of how deeply he had stabbed you earlier.
You have turned your back towards the monster that loomed in the hallway still, with no care for if he would finally lunge and rip you apart. It was a reckless and stupid thing for you to be doing but you both knew he wouldn’t do that and you certainly weren’t going to just stand there in that staring contest and bleed out.
He always has control over when he leaves, but now it was your turn to have control…or at least attempt to take control of it. Maybe your attempt will finally set him off, honestly you didn’t care anymore. You just wanted this night to end.
You heard shuffling and creaking of the floorboards behind you and felt his overwhelming presence close to your back. Following you down the hall, you almost snorted at the thought of this large brute trailing behind you like some dog, you didn’t bother turning around to see if that’s what he looked like, not wanting to give him attention as you make it to your room. A trail of blood droplets following you on the floor alongside the murderer, you go into your room which makes you feel a heavy weight of tiredness settle in your bones at the sight of your comfy bed…or maybe that was the blood loss really settling in. You notice the lack of heavy footsteps continuing behind you, you knew it didn’t mean he was gone because you could feel his eyes staring into you- meaning he was standing at the doorway, watching.
You still don’t turn around to look at him though, you only just grab your phone from your nightstand and unlock it, going to John’s contact and waiting for him to answer. Your eyes trailed over to the mirror close to you that offers you a perfect view of your doorway, a shiver crawling up your spine seeing that the Butcher Devil was no longer there.. having made not even a single sound of his departure.
The only evidence that he was there was the deep claw marks dug into the wood of the doorway’s frame, causing a shaky breath to leave you.
It was his way of telling you that he will be back, that this will not be the last. It made something in your lower stomach warm up, twisting and fluttering alongside the heat.
It was anticipation.
🍔🔪🍔🔪
Thanks for readin!
‼️Important Note‼️
Not into spooky month that much anymore, I mean I do enjoy the show n all but to be honest I wasn’t happy that most of my following on twt was for my bob art, and if I posted something not Bob related it barely got noticed.
Just don’t want that happening with writing so that’s why I’m hesitant about this post, I ain’t shaming anyone ofc I still enjoy Bob!
I’m just not gonna post a lot of spooky month content, maybe none at all so I’d advise you to not follow me if you expect constant spooky month stuff.
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