That weekend, Agnes decided to try and fix their sleep schedule, as well as try other methods to keep a calm mind and not think of the possible stalker. Whenever they werenât doing work, they called their friends and aunt, read some books they had forgotten they started reading, played the rare videogameâŠÂ it got them pumped up enough to actually lock in on writing, being too exhausted to do anything else after and falling asleep early for the first time in forever. Which, hey, works well for them! This means that the next time they have to leave theyâll be in a better mental state, thus theyâll no longer think theyâre being followed and their life will go back to their monotone normal!Â
At least⊠thatâs what they thought. However, that feeling never really went away. For the first time they left the house they were chipper, going on about their merry way with nothing but their grocery list on their thoughts. As they spent more time outside, they started progressively looking around more, they felt their hands start to sweat, their chest start to hurt, their mind getting jumbled. That sensation they so dreaded was back, as they hurried out of the grocery store and rushed back home without looking behind them. They hate themselves so much. The worry theyâre being stalked is back.
They called their aunt that time, just after arriving home and locking all the doors and windows. In a panic, back to the wall and in a panic, they told her everything. And what did she say?
To calm down.
To calm the fuck down and that they may be imagining things. âIf it gets too bad you can come with meâ Thatâs all?! Is Agnes really losing their mind at this point or is someone actually following them?!?!!?
They also called their friends again, who didnât say much beyond the âman that sucksâ and âmaybe contact the policeâ. Will that even work? Will they even believe someone who right now is questioning if theyâre actively going insane?!
Either way, itâs been a week since then and theyâve had to cancel everything. Agnes has not left their home, having finished all the work they could do and by this point gotten bored of doing the same three hobbies they have. They want to hang out with their friends, they want to go to events that interest them, they want to leave this damn place! But they canât! Mr stalker may be out there to make them think theyâll get killed in the next five minutes!!
Their phone buzzes. Itâs a notification from their friend group chat. Theyâre being invited to a group dinner to celebrate one of their friendâs graduation.Â
As scary as leaving at night soundsâŠ. They canât refuse this one, can they?
Agnesâ feet react before their brain does, standing up from their bed and heading to their closet to pick an outfit for the occasion. They text back âSure. Will be there.â and smile. Smile at the hope they can get through this. Thereâs no way they actually have a stalker after so long. It really must be their imagination, as everyoneâs been saying. They canât waste their life away because of paranoia.
At least⊠they wonât get killed for leaving once, will they? Just for one event.
They spend the rest of the evening planning out their route, asking for their friends to take them back home after, and emotionally preparing for the extremely exhausting task of leaving their home and walking alone for thirty minutes. They can do this, thereâs no way this can go wrong for them. Nothing will happen to them.
...
As the time to leave approaches, Agnes is just standing right in front of their door, garnering the courage to actually open it and walk down the stairs of their apartment. They take a deep, determined breath⊠and open the door.Â
Itâs actually quite nice outside, a gentle breeze and a few people still out walking about. Agnes joins them by walking to their destination, phone out staring at their GPS to follow the route exactly. Itâs a somewhat peaceful walk, especially as they start gaining more confidence at the sight of no one bothering them. Hearing passing voices from others walking by them, the rare bird or cricket, the music spilling out of department stores around them. It all keeps them distracted from their overwhelming thoughts, keeping them at bay for a long part of the trip.
However, they donât notice the amount of people with them starting to dwindle, or how all the stores they were passing by were closed, devoid of light and sound.Â
As they turn the corner, theyâre in complete silence. The only thing illuminating their way being the screen of their phone and the rare streetlamp.
They canât help stopping in their tracks, looking around as their breath gets heavier and their chest starts to sting. A pain so overwhelming it takes over their being. Where are they? This isnât the way they had planned⊠Did they get lost? Get too distracted and pulled into an abandoned area? Where did everyone go? All the lights and sounds that reminded them they were safe?Â
In their panicked state, their legs fail them, trying to back away but instead buckling under them. They fall into a kneeling position on the floor, curling up and holding their phone tight against their chest. They donât care that their pants and shoes are being ruined, they donât know where they are. They canât see anyone, barely see anything. What if thereâs something behind them? What if their stalker comes back? What if?
Agnesâ thoughts consumed them to the point of it being overwhelming. They close their eyes and try to steady their breathing, try to focus on themselves and not the world around them. Try to come back to reality. Luckily, something manages to take over those intense thoughts, making them calm down surprisingly quickly.
A little too quickly, as they feel everything blur together. As their body slumps forward. Theyâre getting⊠drowsy? What?
They donât even feel the sting of the syringe just plunged into their neck. They canât feel someone picking them up, with a slight struggle, and carrying - more like dragging - them away somewhere they canât completely discern. Their vision fades out, and they slowly pass out.
Their stalker? Simply puts Agnes in the backseat of his car, gets in, and drives away far from the city.  Â
if youve had enough bad experiences with medical professionals and have a troubled enough relationship with autonomy and intimacy even the blood pressure cuff can feel invasive
Interrogating someone who has clearly been tortured. Was it by your side, someone in your organisation that you disagree with, or just not your job? Do you dance around the matter, do they bring it up to see how you react, do you threaten them subtly or not so subtly?
Rotating around the thought of a whumpee conditioned into behaving specific ways depending on some sort of jewelry or item. Collar? Expected to hehave like a good pet. Bracelets? Be quiet and keep things clean. Rings mean defiant or earrings to act fancy, so on and so forth. I just think it's fun
Whumpee in recovery just, rage baiting the shit out of Caretaker.
It started as a test, to see if they really meant that they werenât going to hurt them. Then when over and over, it was proven that Caretaker really did stick to their promise, didnât even seem to want to hurt them or punish them or get them back, things shifted.
Whumpee still goads them sometimes, over silly things mostly, just to relish that no matter how annoyed Caretaker was, they were still safe. That Caretaker would rather laugh it off and let it go, that despite despite despite, they were still there.
They donât really want to upset Caretaker, and they rarely do. As Caretaker had quickly picked up on the pattern, and more or less the reason. They hammed up their annoyance, theatrically sighing and rolling their eyes, knowing that itâs all just a bit. Just a reassurance.
For a few days or so, there has been something nagging Agnes at the back of their mind. Whether theyâre getting groceries for the week, hanging out late with friends, or visiting family, as soon as they start walking alone they get the weird feeling of eyes behind them, staring straight through them the whole way back. Every step they take, if they take the bus that day or not, even if theyâre hungry enough to stop at a cheap cafe to get a snack.Â
They thought it was just their mind playing tricks at first - just foolish overthinking after researching too many crime stories for their own writing. However, as the days pass and the uneasiness never goes away, it has gotten to the point where Agnes genuinely thinks theyâre being stalked by a mystery person. Itâs not like theyâve ever been one to get this worried over things like this so easily before - the idea of getting robbed, attacked, or stalked was always dismissed with reminding themselves theyâre no one really important in the eyes of society. They donât have expensive clothes, theyâre not famous, they have a somewhat quiet life with a small yet close group of friends and their aunt. Theyâve not stirred up any trouble, so they wonât get into any.
Until now, they guess. So out of nowhere thereâs someone who knows exactly where they live. And who knows what else?
Itâs almost been a week of stalking and theyâre starting to sleep even less than they do normally. They look and feel like shit, are spending too much money on coffee to even function, and they canât even get any work done during their sleepless nights because theyâre too busy pointing a knife at their apartment door. They donât know this personâs motivations, if they will attack, when they will attack, or if theyâre going to attack their friends first. Who knows!
âSo⊠yeah, thatâs pretty much it.â Agnes says over the phone to one of their friends, the only one who was available to talk at 10 pm. âI donât know if I should go to the police or move back with my aunt or simply wait to get more evidence that Iâm actually being stalked-â
âHey, hey! Hold your horses for a second!â Their friend responds, âBefore you make any big decisions like that⊠you donât actually know if youâre being stalked, right?â
â...No.â
âExactly!â She exclaims, âMaybe stay at home for a few days and relax your mind. Youâve been so busy these past few months, I wouldnât be surprised if youâre sacrificing something to be this productive.â
âWow. So kind of you.â
âIâve known you for long enough to assume. Am I wrong?â
â... Unfortunately, no.â Is it really a figment of their imagination, though? âI only stayed awake for a little, though!â
âThat doesnât mean anything, dude! You run on coffee and sugar like a robot on oil, you need to get your shit together!â
Agnes groans, chewing the inside of their cheek in annoyance. They hate the fact she might be right: their mind is a mess and now theyâre hearing things.
âSo.. youâre saying I will be fine?â
âYeah. If you still feel youâre being watched, you can call your therapist about it.â
âThanks.â
âOf course⊠maybe choose better times to call someone in a state of distress, though.â
They canât help chuckling at that, âOh, shut up, you answered anyway.â
She laughs back, âTrue! But itâs still ten fucking pm!â
âAlright, got it! Good night, dude.â
âGood night, sleep well.â
And with that, they hang up. Agnes lays down on their bed, observing the slight cracks and stains in their ceiling. Now that theyâve told someone about their issues, it doesnât seem that big of a problem anymore⊠Could she be right? Does this all have the perfect solution of them being sleep deprived, their mind playing tricks on them and making them more paranoid? They would like it to be⊠but they still canât help but think that there really is someone following them. Even if theyâve not seen anyone around, it just feels so⊠real. The fear is real, both in the moment and what lingers after.
Itâs not time to think of that right now, they really need to sleep. Unless they want to be behind on deadlines and get yelled at for not finishing things on time. They sigh, turn off the lights and go to sleep.
Can't stop thinking about unconscious whumpee waking up in the middle of being cared for.
The initial realization from carer (or carers) that whumpee is gaining consciousness. "They're coming around" (maybe said with relief, or with quietly uttered curses because whumpee being awake will only make things more complicated at this moment) and "Hey, Whumpee, you with me?" and "You're safe, I've got you."
Whumpee coming to, confused and hurting, while carer struggles to keep them calm so they don't injure themself further. Maybe whumpee is too out of it to remember anything after the fact, but their screams, the pleas and begging, are something carer won't soon forget. Or maybe whumpee remembers every second of it, and afterwards has to face carer knowing that carer has seen them at their most vulnerable.
âThose moves." Caretaker said, wiping sweat from their forehead, "Theyâre not ones that you learn how to fight traditionally. Theyâre ones you learn fighting to survive.â
Whumpee blinked.
âSo who taught you how to fight?â
Hah. Whumpee let out a faint snort, then huffed and stood up, taking their weapon.
"You don't want to know." Whumpee felt Caretaker's gaze follow them as they walked out, an image of Whumper plastered in their mind.
