Keeping Time Part 3 (Tim Drake x Reader)
Schninner: So, uh… It’s been about 3 years, good of time as any to get part three out! Sorry for such the long wait, but I hope it’s worth it! More parts to come, When? Only the great Squirtle in the sky knows.
Warnings: The angst; descriptions of torture, and *gasp* swearing! Also, I didn’t edit this, so there are probably grammatical errors.
Tagging: I think people wanted to be tagged when I posted this? But again, it’s been like, 3 years, Sorry!
***Forgot how to do the line thing***
Tim hardly made it through his apartment window before he collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. It had taken the Titans and him nearly 2 weeks to finally finish off and subdue the HIVE, and in that time his diet consisted of Coffee, Monster energy drinks, and Rockstars. Needless to say, he hardly slept at all. Groaning, he managed to sit up and take off his wings along with his armor and mask.
“Bedtime,” he muttered shakily getting to his feet, only to collapse once more into his bed.
He lay there, closed eyed, taking in the environment around him. It was quiet, unnaturally so, which only happened if—
He peeled his eyes open, directing his gaze towards his left wrist; only a pale outline on his hand where his watch once was. Which would explain the lack of noise.
“Shit,” he groaned, forcing himself to sit up.
How long had it been since she had taken it? A day? 3 days? A week? He had been so busy with HIVE and the Titans, he hadn’t notice.
“She’s going to be so pissed at me,” he sighed while trying to get up. He glanced at his pillow however and felt his eyelids sag.
“In the morning,” he muttered, letting his body go limp and fall onto the mattress below him. She would be pissed at him for not noticing sooner, probably pissed about his lack of attention the past several days, but he would deal with the repercussions when wasn’t as tired. I mean, what’s the harm in just waiting one more day.
Bathroom breaks were a newer commodity to your captive situation.
In the first day of captivity, you had managed to restrain yourself, not wanting to give Zsasz the satisfaction of humiliating you. But then the Second day rolled around with no sign of rescue, you held out for a couple more hours, but it wasn’t long before you relieved yourself in your sleep, waking up to your leather bottoms to be drenched in urine. It happened again on the third day, and by the 4th, Zsasz had been so disgusted with the stench, that he allowed for 1 escorted bathroom break a day. Dealing with the stench of urine by thoroughly dowsing you with freezing water until you were waterlogged, and half drowned.
Through these escorted breaks you began to realize a few things about your captivity. Your “cell” was simply an old, quite possibly sound proofed, office. The building he had you captive in was, from what you could see, an old warehouse that had been abandoned for what seemed to be decades. The bathroom itself had been modified by him to assure you couldn’t find any means of weapon or tools to escape. He had removed almost all stall doors, along with most of the toilets, save for one at the far corner of the room. The handicapped stall wall had a bar attached to it, so he had removed the door to remove the element of secrecy and privacy.
The routine was simply this, Zsasz would come at around 4 AM Each day, he would figure out what hell he would put you through today, get the materials ready, then continue to torture you attempting to break you, turning you against Batman and the rest of the family. Once he became bored, or you passed out, he would put his tools away for the night escort your broken and bleeding body to the bathroom, handcuff you to that blasted railing, then turn around so you could do your business.
Tonight, was no different.
It was the 6th day of captivity.
You glanced at the watch on your wrist, the only solace to this insanity, the only thing reminding you of that they were your friends, your family. It reminded you of the love you had for him.
Fantasies began to appear inside your mind, and you run with them.
“What day was it? Tuesday? Maybe it was Friday? Babs and Damien might be on patrol, or it would be Tim and Dick, hard to remember. They would be searching for you, they saw Zsasz and new something was wrong, so they followed him, followed him until he reached the warehouse where they would intercept him and defeat them, as they always do. Any minute, they are going to burst through the door, and find me, then this—this nightmare, will be over.”
But no sooner had you envisioned your rescue did you hear the main doors to the warehouse opening, heavy footsteps growing louder as Zsasz sings, his favorite song of his own creation, Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat.
The door to the small room you’re bound to bursts opened as the pale man enters, a bag slung around his neck with a wide grin on his face.
You scowl at him, refusing to show any signs of fear, your ears trained on the Tick tock of the watch around your wrist.
“Got a little present for your dear.” He turned away from you, slipping the bag off his scarred shoulders, “Figured it could bring some excitement back into our little daily visits, hmm?”
He rummaged through the bag, then turned back around to reveal a power tool. Your stomach sinking at your sudden epiphany of what it is.
You must have let your emotions slip through, because Zsasz seemed even more excited upon looking at you. He demonstrated firing two nails across the room. You winced slightly as you heard them colliding with the wall to your right.
“I’m not going to lie,” He said stepping closer to you with the nail gun in hand, “This is going to hurt.”
You passed out, you don’t know how long, but Zsasz had half carried half dragged your body to the bathroom. You had regained the rest of your consciousness halfway to the bathroom. Each step sent wave after wave of pain throughout your body, he had fired that gun several times into your right leg, fortunately (or unfortunately depending on your viewpoint) he knew exactly where to shoot without making it lethal.
Once you were in the half assembles stall, Zsasz proceeded to handcuff you to the railing and turn around, talking the whole time about how you had gotten blood on his new pants. As he spoke, you looked down at the tattered remains of your pants. He had thrashed, stabbed, and now nailed them so many times. As carefully as you could, you pried the article of clothing off your body, letting it drop down to your ankles. You stifled a whimper as you looked at the new injuries in your thigh. Cursing silently as the heads of the nails contrasted greatly against your mutilated bloody flesh.
Excitement raced through your body; with your free hand you shakily placed your fingers on the rim the nails head. A bolt of pain shot through you, and you choked down a gasp.
You grit your teeth, then pulled, ripping the nail out with you. You let out a small cry, thankfully, Zsasz was to absorbed in his complaining to pay attention to it. You held the bloodied nail out in front of your face. A grim smile had made its way to your lips as you listened to the ticking of your watch.