Just thinking about Serial Killer!Ghost who kidnaps you
Honestly, you don't know what you were thinking when you decided to go for a late night run, but getting pulled off the side of the road and tossed into a truck should've been expected.
The drive was... well, you don't really know how long you were blindfolded, but the constant bumping and jostling means a dirt road. The first few hours of captivity are a blur of pain and crying and tears and a lot of blood from your leg.
Your missing leg.
Ghost bandages you up, keeps you fed and warm when you quietly speak up, voice shaking as you try not to look at the stump of bloody bandages.
"Wh-why are you doing this?"
His eyes sweep over you, patting the rag against your sweaty forehead with such gentle care. He doesn't answer you, but as you shiver from the cool breeze coming in through the window, he pulls the blanket up to your chin.
Time passes weirdly. Between the odd meal hours, and the fact you keep passing out from pain and blood loss, you're not able to accurately gauge how long you've been here. Ghost hasn't cut off any other limb yet, but there's dried blood under your entire body, evidence of previous people.
Your hopes of rescue dwindle by the hour, and eventually, routine sets in. At dawn, Ghost leaves the cabin with a simple look towards the straps around your wrists and ankle. He returns several hours later, usually with some small dead animals, or sometimes with take out food (your favourite order too). He feeds you the food, wiping you clean with whatever rags he has, but never slipping into your pants.
By the ninth day (if your guessing is right), you finally gain the courage to speak again. You wait for him to come back with food, a few rabbits tied around his waist, before tugging slightly on the leather straps holding you down.
"C-can we go for a walk?"
Ghost's eyes turn dark with distrust, hand wrapping around the cleaver on the table, metal glinting in the light of the lamp. Betrayal is written all over his face, genuine and almost scared.
"I'll need help to walk... ma-maybe you could carry me?"
You don't want to die. Sure, you didn't exactly have anyone that would miss, except for a fish that your neighbour takes care of more than you. But you'd like to think someone is missing you, that your presence has made a difference in someone's life.
Except, as you lean your weight into Ghost's side, his arm holding you up by the waist, you can't stop your body from leaning into the warmth of him. He's the only human contact you've had in over a week, maybe more if you haven't kept a good track, and the solitude is painful. Even with his hand wrapped tightly around the chain that hooks to a leather collar, keeping you close to him at all times when you shift to using a crutch, you feel the freedom he's allowing you.
You're not sure why Ghost has spared you, and distantly, you wonder if death would be better. But when he turns his back to lock the door, hands fiddling with the metal padlock and chain, you don't run. Your eyes scan the horizon, the beautiful forest, the smoke of a campfire rising not too far away, and your attention focuses on it. The smoke, still dark and probably two or so miles away, rises above the trees like a beacon. People are out there in those woods, humans that have phones or maybe weapons.
"They shouldn't be having a fire in the woods, it's the dry season."
Behind you, Ghost smiles with a proud satisfaction, sliding up next to you and unhooking the chain from your collar.
You don't run, and Ghost knows that he's sealed his victory.