i wrote this while in a tree lol
Thomas Hewitt/reader
7150 words...she's a little long.
CW baybee: cannibalism; violence; a guy flirts with u to kidnap u; monty; hoyt; dehumanizing talk about reader; a few descriptions of the nasty home they live in; potential harm to reader; tommy's just a little guy and if you bully him he'll eat your spleen
i hope this is good. i will probably do a second part because this is js the setup for some tommy goodness l8r...unless i should have just made this longer lol
It wasn't every day that you were kidnapped. On the contrary, this was an occasion that was a first for you.
One moment you'd been running out of a concert, high on the adrenaline of seeing your favorite band and slightly deaf from the bass.
You'd stopped by the sidewalk as a crowd of people with their faces painted and bodies adorned in similar black attire swarmed the front of the arena, all clamoring about the performance and their desperation to get home or see another concert just the same as this one. You felt much the same. You'd been waiting for your friends to get to the car, but another group of people had something else in mind for poor old you.
A man came up to you, lanky and probably what would have been considered attractive should you not have had different tastes. He grinned a smile that showed off the slight chip in his tooth and bid you afternoon as you stood there, a sore thumb in a parking lot of people dressed in elaborate black regalia.
"Uh, hi," you had said back. You'd left it at that in hopes he'd move along, maybe go back to the friends he no doubt had waiting for him.
"Hey there," the man greeted again, as if you hadn't heard him the first time he'd tried.
"My name's Anthony. I uh, I saw you back in the concert," he had explained. He'd ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, coming off as sheepish. "I dunno if you saw me too, but-" You had not. "-well, I really liked your style. I just wanted to see if I could get your number. Y'know, see if I could shoot my shot." He'd laughed in an understated manner, something breathy and soft, as if embarrassed he'd so much as dared to speak to someone like you.
"Oh, uh..." Your hunched posture and crossed arms apparently hadn't said enough, and you struggled to understand how he blocked out the fact you were so obviously uncomfortable. You'd contemplated telling him you had no phone but hopes of that were dashed as you had realized it was still in your hand, clearly reflecting the lights beaming down on either of you. You'd sighed and murmured your number to the man while he excitedly wrote it down.
"Um, could you repeat that?" Anthony had asked twice over, to the point where you'd just asked for him to write his digits to hand to you.
That was when it happened. As soon as Anthony had your phone in his hand, another slapped itself over your mouth. It took your brain a second to realize as Anthony's demeanor totally shifted, becoming stone where the sheepish young man's face and posture had been soft and relaxed. Then a second set of hands came, and you were pulled into a hot, pudgy chest reeking of sweat and weed.
You'd tried to struggle as they forced you towards the panel van parked nearby, but your cries were overshadowed by the din of the buzzing crowd. When you'd bitten down hard on the palm holding your mouth shut, you'd tried your best to scream over the surrounding chatter. That earned you a slam against the side of the van. Then your world went dark.
That led you to the present moment. You had been gagged, a bag tied over your head, and your wrists tied behind your back. It's been three hours or so since you'd been kidnapped and you knew that you were thoroughly out of city limits, likely headed over state lines. That realization was no more encouraging than when you'd first gotten your head bounced off metal like a basketball.
"Whaddya think this one'll fetch us?" rasped the largest of the three from the passenger side seat up front; you'd estimated him to be at least 6'1, and somewhere well over three hundred pounds, positively dwarfing his more average counterparts. That was an estimate though, since you'd only seen his entire body as you got your brain scrambled against the side of this shitty panel van.
"Decent amount at least. Looks pretty healthy, probably strong enough to hold up for a while," 'Anthony' grumbled from the driver's side, probably tired of staring ahead at a road that went on forever. It'd been at least an hour since he'd taken a turn at all, and from how the van never so much as shifted you could bet that the road was straight as well, no winding or even slight bends.
"I dunno. It looks a bit skinny to me."
"..." There was a sigh from 'Anthony', and you could tell there was more than aggravation in it. "There's a mirror right above you. Could you use it and count how many chins you have for me?"
Then the van went quiet again. The silence may have been a little tense. Though, it only lasted for 30 seconds or so.
"I need gas."
"Oh, barbecue..." whispered from the front at the same time 'Anthony' hissed his own desire out.
In only a few moments there was the first turn taken in at least a third of the journey's time, and the first time that the van had stopped since you'd first been shoved into the van.
Even tough you'd heard voices begin to speak outside, and the sound of doors opening up front, you dared not scream. There was the third man in front of you who hadn't uttered a word this whole time, but from the giant's own warning you were told of the knife he carried, and you knew the second you so much as breathed to do so you'd be gutted navel to neck- or something similar. Your brain was running too wild with all the scenarios that might play out in that moment.
You heard a new voice from outside after a few minutes. 'Anthony' and the Big One spoke up again. You could feel tension bleeding into the back of the van, and from the way the Third stood up across from you, his heavy clothes shifting and boots tapping against the metal flooring.
The new guy spoke again outside, in a teasingly low drawl. You could hear him rounding the van, and the two who kidnapped you followed.
'Anthony''s voice piped up again, sounding squeakier now that they came to the back of the van. The Big One chimed in too, speaking quicker than you'd heard him before.
Then the door began to move. Besides the silence outside and the overwhelming sound of your breath, the blood racing in your ears, you heard the jiggling of the handles at the back of the van door. Your breathing halts.
You were struck as a blade of light beamed through the burlap of the covering over your head.
The world stood still once more.
"Now, wouldja lookie here?" It teased you, a giggle in a man's tone. There was something beyond a childish glee in his voice: you noticed sadism like a swell of malicious delight under such childlike enjoyment. "And here I thought I was just gonna get y'all on a busted taillight." There was a low whistle from in front of you. "But now...This's gonna be the biggest bust the whole year!"
His laughter was cut off as you heard a clamor of boots on metal again, fabric shifting.
"What. You gon' stab me?" It was just as teasing, but there was even more malice in his throat. You heard the click of metal directly after.
The boots took their owner back a step, and from the satisfied chuckle that left the new man you knew Third had put the knife down.
"Take the bag off," you heard the offensively southern man demand. Once more there was a click of what you assumed to be a gun, and you knew that it was him gesturing with the firearm.
You felt and heard those shit-kicker boots approach you again, and though you leaned away, Third gripped the burlap and yanked it away. You had to blink at the new light. having grown accustomed to dimness after hours in the car.
Squinting, you saw the figure of this new man. When you saw what uniform he was wearing, tears began to rim your eyes again after so long of resigning yourself to your fate.
"Please!" you cried before you realized you were still surrounded by your kidnappers. "H-help me! T-they're gonna fucking sell me!!"
"Oh, would you shut the fuck up?" You gaped at him, seeing as the Sheriff pointing the gun at you instead for a moment.
"P-please," you gulped and sniffed, to which the Sheriff responded with a groan and another demand.
"Shut your goddamn yapper!" He stayed smiling, grinning with a schadenfreude you didn't even see on your kidnappers previously.
The Sheriff kept the gun up, but now pointed at the Third who stayed with his arms up in surrender.
However, as the Sheriff put a foot on the metal floor, trying to get up, Third moved. He snatched the knife from the bench he'd been sitting on, lunging forward with it pointed directly at the Sheriff's face.
Then there was a pop, one that rang through your head and deafened the ear closest to the outside. It reverberated through the back of the van, loud and unexpected.
You turned your head, mouth still agape and tears still falling down your cheeks. Third slumped against the wall. His legs gave out, trembling. He left behind a smear of red on the metal, dropping the five inches of glimmering steel into a new puddle of sanguine on the floor.
"Now look what you gone and made me do," laughed Sheriff, shaking his head as he got back down on the dusty ground again. 'Anthony' and the Big One watched on without a word; you could do nothing but follow suit, even as the police officer pointed the gun at the two men.
"You're gonna help me get that rat bastard's body in my car," Sheriff commanded the two, using his firearm to motion for them to stand in place.
Your gaze followed the police officer. Further down was a police car, matching his tan ensemble.
You looked at the two remaining men who were now muttering to each other. They glanced between you, the officer, and the front of the van. Before they could fulfill their ideas for escape, Sheriff came back with his weapon and something else in hand.
"Alright, pretty boy," he taunted and threw the other object at 'Anthony', who caught it with shaking hands. "You two. Wrap 'im up; I don't wanna get no red in the trunk."
Both of the men hesitated, looking at each other and him.
"I said, wrap him the fuck up!" The biggest got the muzzle pressed to his cheek, the fat deforming under the hard metal. That got the two into action, and the both of them scrambled up into the back with you, reeling at the fact their operation got turned around on them.
"You." He turned the gun on you, and you jolted backward as if that would save you from anything. "Outta the fuckin' vehicle."
Having seen both the intimidation and the capability the man had toward using his gun, you knew better than to not follow through with his threat. You used your momentum to sway to your feet, keeping your stance wide considering you had no arms to balance with, not when they were tied tight behind you.
"C'mon, purdy lil thang," the cop teased, lecherous grin finding its way to his thin lips. You stumbled along to comply, but found a little hiccup with doing so. "Sheriff Hoyt's gotcha."
How does one get down from the back of a van without arms to assist?
You sat down and tried to slide out, but that seemingly wasn't quick enough for Hoyt, so he gripped the upper part of your arm and yanked you down. Kindly enough, he introduced your face to the pavement, giving you a nice new splotch of red wounds to grace your cheek.
"Up and at 'em, sweetmeat," Hoyt joked and grabbed your arm again, forcing you to your knees. You helped yourself to stand after that, using the van as support.
"In the store, asshole," the sheriff snarked and shoved you. He didn't follow though, simply directing you with his gun before he went back to intimidating the men in charge of body disposal.
As you shuffled toward the store, trying to follow directions, you saw a woman standing just under the awning. She looked kindly, if a bit distressed at having heard a gunshot and seeing someone stumble out of a panel van with their arms tied behind their back.
Upon seeing your frazzled and slightly bloodied body, she smoothed down her frizzy hair - though it made no difference - and slowly came up to you. The instant she set her work-worn hands on your shoulders, the waterworks started back up again. You sobbed and placed your head against her own shoulder as yours bounced with the force of your cries. She smelled like iron and cheap perfume, but the aroma was almost soothing when paired with her warmth and soft demeanor.
She uttered reassurances as she led you into the storefront, only parting long enough to allow you through the door before your once again were seized by a pair of warm arms and pulled against a soft, overweight body. The woman's matronly disposition had you melting, the sobs coming only harder now that you were afforded safety by the motherly woman.
"Shush baby, it's okay," whispered the woman as you nuzzled into her breast, like the baby she called you. You heaved a breath of relief, only noticing that you'd been sat down as a skinny woman approached with a baby on her hip, setting a blanket around your shoulders.
"Thank you," you sobbed, saliva thick in your mouth and clogging your throat. It hurt to speak, but you couldn't just let their generosity go without acknowledgement. "T-thank you so much..."
You were so exhausted and shocked that when the thin woman came back over with a stained knife you didn't even bat an eye.
She passed it off to the older woman, who began to hum as she sawed through the ropes binding you. For the first time in over three hours your wrists finally felt fresh air. The first action you did with this newfound freedom to your limbs? You wrapped them around the woman who afforded you that safety and freedom, squeezing her as tight as your fatigued muscles could manage.
Like the matron she was, her hand pet over your hair with a gentleness you forgot existed. Still, you babbled your 'thank you's into her cardigan, sniffling as the tears slowed.
"I-I'm so s-sorry," you hiccupped, pulling away to wipe at the water flowing from your stinging eyes. She hushed you in return, a tender hand finding the side of your head. You nudged further into the touch, reminded of home and the feeling of safety. It was intoxicating how you were finally allowed to worry about anything other than your life.
"Like I said, honey: it's okay. Don'tcha worry 'bout nothin', babe." You nodded in response and relaxed into the chair.
You sniffled and stammered through your own name, gulping down the sticky spit that stuck in your throat. "T-they took me. The s-sheriff- he found me..." Your explanation was met with a sympathetic look from the older woman. You could tell she had kids of her own just from how she handled your situation.
"You're alright now, lovebug," she hummed as she began to introduce herself. "My name's Luda Mae Hewitt. This here's-" she motioned to the skinny mother, who'd been rocking her child. "-Henrietta. Her little one is Mary-Anne." As she stroked the side of your face again, she caught your eye once more.
"Now, sugar. Lookit. There ain't nothin' bad that's gonna happen. Ain't no one gonna hurt ya." By the way she looked at you, you could almost believe it.
"Y-you're way too nice, M-Ms. Hewitt," you stuttered through as a laugh caught in your throat. You actually managed a smile though, taking one of her hands between both of your own.
"Please. Call me Luda Mae." She continued on as she swiped her thumb across your knuckles: "I was just about to close down my shop for the night, sugar. You're in luck I stayed open for so long." Her laugh was weary and marred by what sounded like decades of smoking, but it felt nostalgic, like a day of staying over at your relative's and listening to the older members of your family joke about.
"Thank you. Again," you whispered, calming down. You felt your hackles lower and your heart slow with your adrenaline waning after the brief encounter with that cop.
"Don't thank me lovebug, I haven't done nothin' that needs no thankin'," denied Luda Mae as she stood once again, going on to puttering about the room- cleaning up the store for closing, apparently. She went on after, asking you in a soft, motherly tone: "Now, does anyone know where you're at? I can stay open until they can pick you up, but..." Her face fell into a grimace, and she sighed almost irritably as she wiped her hands down with a red-stained cloth. "But we don't exactly got a workin' phone 'round these parts- you know how it is with small towns; not really any need for one."
You nodded in understanding. You personally didn't live in a small town, but your parent had, and they'd described all the inconveniences that came with it, not even having a payphone around having been one.
"Well, love," she muttered as she put a weathered hand to her lower face, lips marred by wrinkles evidence of having her lips pursed around a cigarette most of her life. She sighed, and behind it were a few emotions you couldn't place.
"I could take 'em in," Henrietta piped up from nearby, where she was bouncing the babe on a thin hip. Inwardly you wondered how such a frail looking woman could ever have delivered such a chubby infant, but you pushed that to the side for now.
"No, no, Henry. Your home is already full, what with y'all two and Auntie Imogene," Luda Mae denied as she came back around your chair and set her hands upon your shoulders. She dug her fingertips lightly into your tensed trapezius muscles, as if to reassure you.
"Well, I've got a guest room at my house, sugar," suggested the matron, easing you into the next idea. "You can come 'n stay the night, get all washed up and get a nice, warm dinner. Then we can have the dear ol' sheriff drive ya to the next town over for a phone call. How's that sound, sweetie?"
You thought it over, allowing your frazzled brain to relax. A hot meal sounded best to settle your queasy stomach- and the blood, sweat, and grime caked on your flesh from sweating in hundred-degree weather terrified out of your mind had begun to itch. A shower felt like it'd cure most of your woes, and the suggestion of a warm bed to rest in was about the closest thing you'd get to heaven on Earth at the moment.
"Okay." You smiled through a split lip, feeling as if the world had finally started to spin at its usual lazy speed again.
-
It was only a few minutes of a walk after leaving that you arrived at a large house in the middle of a field, what perhaps had been farmland once upon a time. Henrietta had left as Mary-Ann started to get fussy and bid you both a good night with a soft and reserved smile. She brushed off your concern after you'd asked if she'd be okay walking alone, and Luda Mae set her hand on your arm to urge you on.
A little boy, a feral looking one, had run toward you two as you'd approached. Luda Mae scolded him more than a little unkindly, likely exhausted by his youth and excitement in her mature age. He'd joined you two in the walk to the house, but as soon as you got to the porch she demanded he run upstairs and wash himself down before he got the mud on his bare feet all over the floor.
The house itself was crowded, but only in terms of belongings. There was said to be only five residents there, which was paltry in comparison to the size of the large home. It was packed and slightly dirty with age and some amounts of neglect; there was also a scent about it that had your nose wrinkling- you tried to hide that from Luda Mae. It smelled of iron and sweet rot, something probably wafting from below considering there was no evidence of anything dead or rotting up here. You suspected a dead animal under the floorboards, not yet retrieved.
Luda Mae had given you an outfit of a pair of jeans and a t-shirt - much too large to belong to her or Hoyt, let alone Jedidiah - and followed you to the bathroom to demonstrate how the shower worked. The bathroom itself was slightly run down, with dirt staining around the toilet and the bathtub, ingrained in the grout, but you'd ignored it in favor of finally getting into something hot and cleansing to wash away the stench of fear and sweat.
"Now, soon as you're done come straight down for dinner. No snoopin' up here," she warned, and you got the impression she was being more than serious.
"Of course, ma'am," you replied as you set the clothes and towel down on the toilet seat, a smile on your lips that'd been there since the start of the walk here. "I wouldn't do nothing like that. Not when you've been so gracious." You laughed softly, as if the thought of you ever invading the woman's privacy was laughable.
Luda Mae just nodded in turn, frizzy hair bobbing its way from her bun in gray-streaked lines.
You followed her instructions exactly and when you were dried and dressed, clothes in a bag she provided, you made your way downstairs, trying to keep your footsteps quiet- not for any particular reason, mostly just to avoid breaking the warm quiet that felt more than comforting in the moment.
"Um, Ms. Luda Mae?" you called as you wandered your way to the hottest part of the house, where there was the sound of a kitchen in use.
Before you could make it there, though, you rounded the corner and hit something solid. It smelled- actually pretty damn bad, all things considered. Like iron and sweat; like you had before your shower.
"Woah!" You backed up to regain your balance, only then noticing what it was you ran into.
"Oh, I'm sorry I bumped into you- I kinda wasn't looking where I was going." Ducking your head and scratching at the back of it, you felt your cheeks warm more than the lingering effects of the hot shower afforded.
"Uh... What's your name?" Leading by example, you told him yours. When you didn't get a response at first, you looked up to see what held him. You halted as you saw the man's face though- or, well, lack of it.
Craning your neck to look up at him, you were met with a nest of greasy black waves and a face comprised of thick eyebrows, severe and just as dark as the hair above it. Below those were two lidded eyes that watched you, squinted slightly, in a dark brown shade that pierced through you with a frighteningly discerning gaze for such a lumbering man. Anything from the nose and below was hidden by a mask: tanned leather, obviously years old from the wear marks on it, stretching from cheek to cheek with only a hint at the pink of his lips below, in the shadows of the slit in his mask.
Despite his massive presence and the stained, somewhat bloody outfit he wore, complete with an apron tied at the waist that was now a dark brown-ish red (only gods know what the original color actually was) from old, saturated blood. That much was obvious from the discoloration in some places as opposed to others which shone lighter. The same went for the green shirt under it, reddened where the sleeves were rolled up at the elbow.
After looking at him for so long, you redirected your gaze to the floor again, feeling how your cheeks got even hotter. Though, you did recall the conversation you and Luda Mae had had on your way to the house- particularly about her family. She'd told you the sheriff's name was Charlie, and the little boy was Jedidiah, and this man certainly didn't look like a Monty.
"So um...are you Thomas?" you asked somewhat sheepishly.
The man did not answer. He just stared at you, brows furrowed and his dark eyes glaring through you.
Just as you'd begun to regret asking- a nod, brief and small, but confirmation enough. Then he tilted his head, questioning you for something that you didn't know.
"Well, Ms. Luda Mae told me about you- uh, kinda," you elucidated with a small, anxious laugh. "That's why I um, I know your name."
Taking a moment to think, you nodded toward the kitchen. You motioned towards it with your hand directly after, inviting him forward. He didn't move, only when you had taken a step in that direction. You'd tried to get him to walk side by side with you, but he didn't let you, just walked about a foot behind. You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head.
"She and Hoyt really helped me," you murmured to attempt any sort of conversation. He stayed silent. His stare seemed to speak more words than him, ironically.
At his continued silence, you finally scrounged up the words to ask, just outside the warmly lit kitchen where you heard Jedidiah blathering about a raccoon that bit him.
"Are you um..." You looked down at where your fingers fiddled together in a bid to dispel some of the anxiety gnawing at your gut. "Are you able to speak?"
You looked up at Tommy after you asked the question, only to be met with his customary stare. Just as slow as the nod before, Tommy hesitated then shook his head; his greasy, shoulder-length hair swayed with the motion, only slightly due to parts clearly matted by a lack of proper care. It seemed like that was only natural with this family- not that you were judging. As someone who'd grown up around these kinds of people, and having some of them in your very family, you knew that having proper hygiene wasn't exactly taught in schools (especially in such small towns), on top of the face it was kind of secondary to making a living and surviving the circumstances that came with poverty.
That being said, it made you really want to give the poor guy a bath.
"That's okay," you followed up with almost immediately, not wanting to make him feel bad for the inadequacy. You stopped after though, unsure how to continue without sounding weird.
"I'm sure Ms. Luda Mae's about done with dinner, yeah?" He nodded again, this time with less hesitancy. Then Tommy nodded again, shorter and more directed. You realized then what it meant and turned back around, following his request to continue into the kitchen.
Despite it being in a house, the kitchen really reminded you of the kitchen in a trailer, if only for its cluttered nature and flickering lighting that came down in a sickly yellow. The ground was stained and so were the walls in places, yet you still did not complain- you'd seen much worse before and you'd be damned to show distaste towards the family that was so gracious to you.
Luda Mae had her back turned, facing the counter. The smell of lightly charred meat hit your nose and set your senses at ease; it smelled like your youth, when you were little and your parent was cooking over the stove to feed your growing self. Here it was heartier with a heavier scent of cooking meat than simmering vegetables or baking bread.
"Hey, Ms. Luda Mae," you announced your presence. "Just got done with the shower. Thank you, again. This is all really...just more than you had to do." You stood nearby where she worked, not wanting to encroach. Tommy lingered for a few seconds as you spoke, those keen eyes of his dissecting each motion of yours, burning holes in your stilted expression. It didn't feel the best to be watched, but you kept your own gaze on the matriarch of the household.
"Oh hush, child. That's what the Lord'd do," she brushed off as if it were the simplest matter ever, despite you knowing that even most other Christians wouldn't allow you asylum. You came beside Luda Mae instead of talking.
"Is there anything I could do for you?" She hummed in thought, her old, pale eyes listing around the room.
"Well hun..." she drifted, her eyes finding the massive shadow behind you. "Go on an' set the table. Six plates, yourself included." She then nodded to a certain cabinet, apparently holding the dishware.
You nodded in reply and set out to do what she'd requested. However, when you turned to face the dining room entrance, you saw that looming, dark figure still standing in the corner there. Meekly, you turned your gaze away but didn't hurry your gait- after all, you had six large glass plates balanced in your arms.
When you were done setting the plates out and returned to the kitchen for silverware you noticed Tommy had vanished. For such a large man, he was very silent.
"So, where's the um, silverware?" She pulled a drawer out with a rattle. Your footsteps were quick as you went to fulfill the task, padding over the tarnished hardwood with a creaking sound from weary floorboards. Just as you were reaching out, her weathered hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you form grabbing the gleaming silverware.
"Uh-"
"Are you scared'a my boy?" You blinked.
"What? No," you responded almost as soon as she asked. The truth flowed easily off your tongue, but her eyes squinted at you as if to deny the honesty in your tone.
"I seent the way you look at Tommy," she trilled out, her cheeks pulling apart in a grin. Deep, corrugated wrinkles appeared around her eyes and mouth, and you got a stark recollection of your older female family members when they were particularly fond of a young child. She lifted a thin brow, smirking up at you as her eyes shined. "Well, more like how y'don't lookit 'im!" She lets out a dry, raspy laugh. She pronounced "him" like "eem", as if to amplify her Southern drawl. It fit her, you decided, even as your cheeks warmed once more and your gaze dithered to and fro.
"W-well, it's just- y'know, I'm a little anxious around people!" you tried to excuse, but it fell flat at the bored, tauntingly neutral expression she sent your way.
"Now y'listen here," she demanded, pulling away from you to set her hands on her pudgy hips. Despite being dressed like a grandmother, she radiated an aura of intimidation. "You can lie to me all you want- but I know it ain't jus' 'cause you're a wallflower!" The meat in the pan sizzled as if a backing track to your humiliation.
"You ain't all fluttery 'round Charlie, you were hangin' all on me at the store, and you didn't bat an eye at Henrietta or Jed!" She had you there. Her expression got more severe, but as she pulled back and shuffled back to the stove she let the topic go.
You scrounged up the forks and knives as quickly as you could. She spoke up just as you were breaching the dining room doorway.
"Now, y'see here," she hummed, flipping a juicy steak. It sizzled even more in the searing hot cast-iron skillet. "Tommy's a skittish boy. Don't drive 'im off now."
You took a second to think, then nodded though you knew she couldn't see the motion. "Okay, Ms. Luda Mae."
You set up the rest of the table unimpeded. Once done, you took a seat beside Jedidiah, letting him yammer on about seeing a cow wandering nearby today.
"Uh-huh! Was a big fat'n too!" He held his arms out wide to demonstrate the size, though his wingspan was so small it made this cow seem less grand. "I was gonna get Tommy to go an' butcher it but when I came back with 'im she was gone..." He sighed sadly, but perked up a second later. "We still got meat though! Bet it's gonna last us a long time since one'a 'em was all big 'n fat like a cow-"
A quiet smack resounded through the air and Jedidiah recoiled, whimpering as he pressed a hand to the back of his head.
"Loose lips sink ships, ya little shit," came hissed from behind the boy. You didn't even have to look up to know it was Hoyt who did it. Something yelled at you to retaliate as the dirty little boy ducked his head- you couldn't say anything though. The closest thing you could do to remedy the situation was to set your hand on his thin shoulder, acknowledging his pain and trying to show your pity. He stayed quiet after.
Soon the rest of the family joined you at the dinner table. You saw the fifth member of the household after he came in on squeaky wheels, a bit of a surprise all things considered.
Monty parked his chair at the empty table space, and he didn't change the severe glare of his, only redirected it to your body. You didn't mention it, trying to ignore it all. Still, it was a little hard to focus on much of anything when you were dressed in a stranger's clothes and still wearing your dirty, sweat-soaked underwear, under the scrutiny of this double-amputee's lascivious glare.
Luda Mae shuffled her way into the dining room and you were quick to stand. Along with her, you brought the food from the kitchen and sat it in the middle of the table like an offering to the hungry people crowding at its edges.
You took your seat, only then realizing that the one next to yours harbored no life. Even though the rest of the chairs were mostly mismatched, this one was larger and looked by far sturdier than yours. The person who sat there was no question, really.
At seeing the seat empty, Luda Mae sighed and shook her head. The chain on her glasses swayed with the motion, as did the loose skin of her neck. The way the older woman walked remind you of most older people you'd seen before; her stance was wide and her upper body leaned slightly into the movement, as if to balance her substantial mass.
When she reached the edge of the room, she yelled out the name of the man from earlier. After a second, she followed up with a loud, "Dinner's done, boy!", gruff and displeased that her table was not yet filled. Looking around the table, the other men mimicked the irritation while Jedidiah just stared at the table, kicking his bare feet under it.
There was something large coming towards the kitchen not long after; its lumbering, heavy steps approached with creaks of floorboards and groans from the house itself, like it struggled under the brunt of such a massive being. Reflexively, you made room for the man by scooting your chair over, the legs scratching the already worn floor.
The air in the room already permeated with the errant scent of mildew and rot, but iron was reintroduced with the appearance of the man before. He lingered a second too long at the doorway. It was hard to see where his dark brown eyes looked at due to the equally dark locks and shadows surrounding them. Despite that, when his gaze found yours there was a shock of cold that ran down your spine.
"Set down, Tommy," came from where Luda Mae sat, her voice wavering with age though strong in only the way a disillusioned woman could be.
The stench of iron and rot approached, and so did the man the aromas clung to. The chair beside you cried its complaint, then went quiet, as if giving up when Tommy settled fully.
"Alright now," Luda Mae prompted, nodding over at the sheriff at the head of the table. He sighed, but stood. Everyone seemed to understand, putting their head down. A small hand probed yours, little fingers much smaller yet somehow more calloused than the average adult's.
"Lord, we thank you for the food you've given us, to nurture us and keep us full," croaked from that disturbing man's lips, far too holy for how he'd acted when he rescued you. Your hand fell open for Jedidiah's and when you reached to the side you found the Tommy's own hand. His fingers jerked back when your softer ones cupped around his large, warm palm. Looking down, his hands were much cleaner than before, with much of the visible gore gone- at least, up until the elbow; who knew what was beneath where his sleeves were pushed up.
"We thank you for the meat which nourishes us, and for the land which provides us shelter." Jedidiah's hand trembled slightly in yours, a few little tremors that told you something was wrong with the boy. You didn't dare interrupt the prayer to ask. Tommy's hand gripped yours a little tighter; it felt warm, the blood coursing through his veins heated by such a massive body. It wasn't like it he had to fight against cold weather either, considering the temperature - from your estimation, having been baking in it not two hours prior - had been nearing a hundred. Despite that, the way his warmth met yours was soft, and though his palm was clammy it wasn't a muggy heat that was too cloying after such a hot day.
Your gaze wandered the room though you kept your head down. Jedidiah shifted anxiously in his seat, and you felt your muscles move on their own, pulling your lips into a soft smirk. Luda Mae had her head bowed and her brow furrowed, focused on the prayer. Monty didn't even bother with pretending, just glaring through the wood grain of the table, holding Luda Mae's hand while avoiding Tommy's own, elbow on the table. He caught your gaze and grinned, much like a predator eyeing up juicy, helpless prey. You avoided him, instead looking to your right.
Tommy's eyes were wide, almost scared when you found them. A breath got caught in your chest. You hadn't expected for him not to be following suit with the prayers, like you and Monty had.
"Thank you, Lord. Amen," Hoyt finished his prayer and Jed was the first to move, lunging for a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes. You waited patiently for the others to serve themselves. Thomas hesitated beside you, but served himself two large, glistening steaks and gathered up three rolls to stuff on his plate, waiting for more. You didn't judge him, of course; though he was a chubby guy, you could tell under all the soft pudge he had a frame of large, dense musculature, and clearly he needed a lot to fuel that massive form.
You served yourself once everyone had full plates, Luda Mae encouraging you to get more than you'd needed. The potatoes were warm and buttery, and the rest of the food was honestly more of the same- buttered, unhealthy, and oh, so delicious. The only critique you could have had pertained to the meat itself; the steak was rare and fatty to the point of excess while also tasting like something other than beef (pork, maybe?), and you had to wonder where this disenfranchised family ever got such a well-marbled cut of meat.
"Where'd you get this meat?" The matriarch perked up and her expression strained, eyes squinting at you. Quickly adding context, you went on to clarify, "It's got some really good marbling." She smiled at you, wrinkled face looking somewhat relieved.
"Tommy's a butcher." She nodded to him. She hadn't really answered your question, but as much as it nagged at you, your lips stayed firmly shut.
"Well, thank you for this meal, Ms. Luda Mae," your voice matched your gracious smile, and she mimicked it too. "The-"
A noise, from below. Luda Mae's smile strained and the casual atmosphere plummeted. All around the table were tense faces, except for the boy to your side; he looked profoundly saddened, for some reason.
Before everyone went back to enjoying their meals there was another sound, something more intrusive.
"God- fucking help me!" The voice sounded awfully familiar, like a certain guy who'd hit on you and led to your kidnapping. "I'll fucking kill you, you goddamn monsters!"
Your expression was somehow the same as everyone's at the table: awkward and tense and, honestly, lacking fear.
You neck craned downward and your eyes focused right on the center of your plate. It really was a juicy looking steak, and from the way it looked and tasted it did fit the bill of something almost luxurious.
You didn't have to look around the table to know what was probably happening. This was a choice to make, and even though some of them had been cordial you knew this family was capable and willing to do whatever they did to Anthony...to you. And another thing was that you kind of didn't want to get kidnapped twice in one day.
At least you were never squeamish when it came to this sort of thing.
With a sigh, you began to cut through more of the steak, avoiding what you now knew to be the cross-section of a tibia and fibula, considering the size and shape of the cut and bones. the steak was still as juicy, but now that you had a face to put to a taste you considered the meat differently.
"Tommy, would you go shut that little bully up? He's ruinin' our supper!" Luda Mae sounded irritated, but her face was beaming a cracked, yellowed grin.
Thomas nodded with a grunt, departing.
"Remind me to thank Thomas too," you hummed through a mouthful of human flesh. "This really is a great cut."
