The Butcher's Daughter [pt.1]
This is a multi-part slow burn with Thomas Hewitt cause I needed something to write on my off day. There will be spice at some point, and of course: general trigger warnings. Don’t like 18+ scenes/horror/blood/ etc.? That’s ok, just don’t read this one, friend. It will be rather upsetting to you.
Time-Line and Continuity: Sticks mainly to the reboot duology: Texas Chainsaw (2003) and Texas Chainsaw: The Beginning (2006). This story takes place pre-1969. The story will have elements of Texas Chainsaw: The Beginning (2006) and Texas Chainsaw (2003 Remake). The story takes place in the abandoned town seen in those movies, but is an hour drive outside of Harlow, Texas (as seen in Texas Chainsaw 3D) for purposes of plot.
Summary: After your mother's death, your father, driven down a bottle with grief, loses his butcher shop to creditors. Wanting to escape his debts, he chooses to move back to his hometown. Not wanting to lose your last family member and being hopeful of a new start, you go with him. It's a ghost town, but he appreciates the solitude and it allows for enough space to start a small cattle farm. He's happy his old drinking buddy Charlie Hewitt is still in town. His mother, Luda Mae is very happy to have 'neighbors' down the road and feels motherly towards the girl, hoping to take her under her wing. She also can't help but think of the potential for her boy to finally have the chance at a friend.
Note: Reader age is unspecified but reader is of age. I keep hair/skin/body descriptions vague [without sacrificing quality of writing] so everyone can see themselves in the story.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"This place is really out there." You say. Your father is taking his turn driving the old pick-up out to his hometown.
"Use to be farmers out here. Lots of space, no one in your business that you don't want there. You'll like it." He says, hoping you weren't regretting joining him. Though you had lost your job when the family business went under, you didn't have to come with him. "Besides, after a couple weeks I should be able to get a farm hand or two. You could move to Harlow or go finish that degree you were working on."
You smile. "A farm hand out here?" You look out over the dry fields of what used to be sunflowers.
"Sure." You dad says, a playful grin on his face, "I'm sure there's an armadillo or two that could use a steady job." The two of you laugh a little to ignore the weighted reality -- your father needed your help to make this work and there was no way you would be able to avoid the creditors if you moved anywhere else. You told him many times this was your choice, that you wanted to help, but you knew you really had no other option. At least not at the moment.
Your father was not a good man and was not often plagued by guilt for his actions, but he cared for you. The two of you spend the rest of the ride talking about the old house your father had inherited from his parents when they passed away. It's a classic farmhouse layout, a full upstairs you'll get all to yourself. A wraparound porch would be the perfect place to sit outside and watch the sunset. You knew he was painting a picture that was too good to be true, but he seemed happy.
It's mid-afternoon by the time you're pulling into the dusty drive of the house. It's far from the road and the yard surrounding is green and overgrown. The fence around the house has fallen down in several places and remnants of a vegetable and herb garden have grown unchecked and un-weeded in the back of the house.
You help your dad take boxes into the house, taking your things upstairs and your father's things into the bedroom on the ground floor. The house was big but needed cleaning. Everything was covered in a thin layer of sand-like dust and it was obvious no one had been in the house for years.
In the process of getting everything out of the truck, you notice the garden in the back had several, late-season vegetables. Once the boxes are all inside, you go about picking what you can while your dad works on the house's generator. It'd be nice to have something other than bologna sandwiches for dinner.
You found some old baskets in the kitchen pantry, you've already been able to fill two baskets with mustard greens and sweet potatoes and small green pumpkins by the time the sun starts to go down. As you pick up the last basket you watch the lights of the house flicker on and an excited shout from your father as you hear a generator come to life. A smile plays on your features. Perhaps this would be alright.
You go inside the house, setting the basket on the counter next to three others. You start washing the dirt off your hands in the old sink when you hear a car pull into the driveway. A door opens and you hear a gruff voice call your dad's name. "Charlie! You old son of a bitch- you're still here?" You hear your father reply to the man and you peek outside the front room window. An older man with deep features gets out of a beat-up pickup and your dad walks towards him.
"Who the fuck you callin' old, you old cocksucker?" The old man laughs heartily and your father embraces "Charlie".
The two men talk for a few minutes. Your father comes back in, the old man "Charlie" getting back in his truck and leaving.
"Hey, you feel like going out for dinner?" He asks.
"Out?" You ask, confused. You're getting dirt off a basket of sweet potatoes when he comes in.
"That was an old friend of mine, Charlie Hewitt. He and his folks still live around here. Their house is a half mile down the road and his mama is doing a roast tonight." He goes to the sink to wash his hands, dark oil staining the fresh bar of soap by the sink.
You hesitate, but smile, "Sure, dad. Sounds great."
Your old man splashes water on his face and runs his hands through his hair before drying his hands. "Go clean up and we'll head over on that way. Gonna change m'self."
"Like Sunday dinner kind of clean up or just 'no dirt on my hands' clean up?" You set the basket aside and dust your hands off on your jeans.
"Nothin' fancy. His mama's just old fashion- likes dinner to be a little more proper. 'Specially if it's guests." He starts to walk away. "Let's leave in a few, alright?"
You wash your hands, fix your hair, and find an old, corn-yellow dress. It's modest, the hem going down to your shins and the collar buttoning up to the base of your neck. Linen and tailored at the waist, it ruffles in the light breeze as you stand on the porch of the Hewitt household in dusty, white canvas shoes. The air has cooled but you still feel heat coming off the wood of the porch when Luda Mae answers the door.
"Bill! It's good to see you, hun." Luda Mae smiles and opens the door wide and her eyes go to you. "My god she looks just like Beth." You're surprised to hear your mother's name out of the mouth of a stranger but smile politely. Luda Mae smiles, "Luda Mae Hewitt, sweetheart. You must be y/n. I knew both of your parents long before you were born. It's nice to meet you." She welcomes you into the house with a hug. "Come on in Bill. Charlie's having a beer on the back porch with Monty, why don't you join them? I need a little time to finish getting supper ready." She looks at you, "Would you mind? I need a little help getting the table set." She smiles kindly as she leads the two further into the house. It's modest, a little dirty, but everything around this town seemed to be a little grimy.
Your father nods and follows her, making sure you were trailing behind. "The house looks great, Luda. Your boy still helping you around the house?"
"Tommy mostly works at the slaughterhouse nowadays but he still does the heavy lifting around the house and the store when I need him to." She lets him out onto the back porch where he's greeted with friendly, though swear-filled jeers from Charlie and Monty.
"Um how-how can I help?" You ask.
"There're some blue and white plates up on the top shelf of that cabinet. Get them down and set the table for six, dear."
"Yes, ma'am." Luda Mae smiles at your manners. You do as she asks as she gets a roast out of the stove. You carry plates to the dining room and set them out. You hear the side door open and heavy footsteps in the kitchen when you walk back in.
"Excuse me, Miss Luda Mae? I set the plates out. Where do you keep the silverware?" You look up to see a very tall man in a leather, half-mask and slaughterhouse apron. He's splattered with blood and his hair is matted. You shrink back a little when he turns his head and see you. His eyes were intense.
"Y/n this is Thomas. Tommy, this is Y/n, Bill and Beth's daughter. Y/n and Bill moved in down the road. They're staying for dinner so go get cleaned up." She tells her son.
"Nice to meet you." You smile politely and he stiffens slightly before nodding to you and heading up the stairs quickly.
"Don't mind him, dear. Terribly shy." She laughs a little bit and hands Y/n silverware and napkins.
You get the table set and Luda Mae brings in the roast, mashed potatoes, rolls, and a few other things. You help with the last few preparations and Luda Mae calls the men into the dining room. Monty, Charlie, and your father were all different levels of drunk but Luda Mae scares them into acting pretty sober. Thomas comes down in clean clothes and his hair brushed and sits at the table. Luda Mae makes sure he sits next to you. He doesn't say anything the during dinner but Luda Mae is charming and talks to Y/n.
Your father, Charlie, and Monty ignore you for the most part, happy to jeer at each other, cuss, and make off-color jokes just tame enough not to get hit with Luda Mae’s wooden spoon. That’s not to say the two friends of your father don’t recognize your existence. Both men’s eyes wander every part of you, lingering for a little too long. But that’s as far as they go. Bill was a son of a bitch, that’s why they liked him, but he cared fiercely for you. Charlie and Monty knew a single stray comment towards you was a guaranteed ass beating.
“You work at the slaughterhouse?” You ask Thomas, not really expecting an answer. You were alright with a one-sided conversation, but you needed something to tune out the drunk laughter on the other end of the table. “That must be interesting. I’ve never been in a slaughterhouse. Dad and I used to do something similar, though it was just a small butcher’s shop we ran.” You smile charmingly, doing your best to be the kind guest. “Working in a slaughterhouse sounds more interesting, honestly. ‘Specially since you wouldn’t have to deal with some of the customers dad and I would have regularly.”
Thomas tilts his head towards you to listen better as you talk. He offers a confirming “huff” when asked if he works at the slaughterhouse. His eyes stay on you. You were small compared to him, and utterly adorable. You really were interested in his work? More than that, you’d worked in a butcher’s shop? You weren’t a weak build, you had some muscle on you from the work you did. But still, he couldn’t imagine the girl in front of him enjoying what he enjoyed.
Everyone finishes dinner and Luda Mae asks you to help clear the table so you do. All the windows in the bottom floor of the house were open to let the cool, evening breeze through. Your dress ruffles when a stronger breeze blows through and Thomas catches a whiff of your light perfume. He watches as you help his mother, not realizing he was staring until his Uncle Monty points it out, laughing drunkenly.
“Well shit, Bill. Better keep track of your daughter.” He laughs.
“ ‘Fuck you talking about?” Your dad laughs a bit, finishing another beer.
“Ol’ Tommy here can’t keep his damn eyes off her. Got a crush there big boy?” He slurs out and is met with raucous laughter from Charlie.
Bill takes a second and looks Thomas up and down. “Good luck.” He says, “She’d kick your ass.” He says through building laughter.
Luda Mae comes back in the dining room with a cake and you trail behind her with plates. You see the three men laughing and Thomas sitting silently. Charlie and Monty make a couple more cutting remarks towards Thomas and you realize they’re all laughing at his expense. You see your dad open his mouth to join in the jeering.
“Dad.” You say, voice low but firm. It catches his attention immediately and he looks at you. “Don’t.” Thomas looks at you again. Having anyone besides his mother be on his side… it was unusual, but it was nice.
“Sorry kiddo. We ‘ere just havin’ a bit of fun.” He slurs a bit, but he does looks genuinely sorry. Charlie and Monty start to jab at your father when Luda Mae puts them in their place.
Everyone enjoys dessert and you help Luda Mae and Thomas clean up the dishes.
“Dinner was great, Luda Mae.” You say, putting away the last of the dishes. “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime, dear. It was nice to have company over. I enjoyed myself.” She sets the dish towel down that was in her hand. “Do you need help getting Bill back home?”
“I can just drive him home, it’s not a big deal.” It’s then you realize that during the course of doing the dishes, the dining room had gone quiet. You peek back in and see all three men slumped at the table, passed out.
Luda Mae chuckles. “Maybe so but you might want some help loadin’ him up in the truck and dragging him into the house.” She looks at Thomas. “Tommy, get Charlie and Monty upstairs then help Y/n get Bill home.”
Thomas nods and goes and picks up Charlie and his uncle, one under each arm and hauls them upstairs. A few minutes later he’s putting your father in the back seat of the truck and sitting in the passenger side as you drive down the road towards your new home. You can feel his eyes on you, even in the dark of the cabin.
“…I’m sorry if my dad said anything awful.” You say finally to break the silence. “He’s not always like that.”
Thomas huffs quietly in acknowledgement.
“And thank you for helping me get him back to the house. It’d’ve been quite a sight if I’d tried to drag him into the truck myself.” You laugh a little bit at the thought, trying to make light of it all. Thomas feels the smallest twinge of a smile on his face when seeing you laugh.
Once at the house he carries your dad over his shoulder and into his bedroom setting him on the bed. He walks back out into the foyer where you stand, “Here, I’ll give you a ride back home.”
This surprises Thomas a bit but he nods. You really were one of the kindest people he’d met. He walks out to the truck with you but gets to the driver side first. He reaches and opens the door and waits, watching you. After a moment you realize what he’s doing.
“Ah. Thank you, Thomas.” You smile and get into the truck and he closes the door behind you before getting into the truck himself. Your smile causes his heart to tighten. Every smile he could get, he wanted.
You drive him back to his home, making a little more pleasant small talk, and Thomas listened contently. He liked your voice.
Once back, he waits for you to put the truck in park and gets out.
“Goodnight, Thomas.” You give a small wave and drive away. He watches you drive away, raising his hand in a small wave, a barely audible grumble coming from his throat.
“…y/…..n….”
