contains ; no use of y/n, gender-neutral!reader, southern!reader, reader lives out in the middle of nowhere, remmick being deceptively pathetic, remmick has no morals and i was hoping we knew this
author's note ; listened to seether and a whole designated remmick playlist writing this👅
wc ; 896
☠︎ “Oh, thank goodness,” The man, pale but sunburnt at the same time, gasped. He was out of breath, who wouldn’t be though? You lived out in the middle of nowhere, just cornfields for miles and the long dirt road. “Is something wrong? You look–look awfully rough, sir.” You stumbled over your words, not trying to sound rude, your mama didn’t raise you to be rude of course.
☠︎ “I just need help, I’ve been wanderin’ around for days, I got all my things stolen, I just need to be rode out to the nearest town, I have no idea where I am or how far a town is from here.” He said convincingly, he was a great actor, anyone who crossed his path would’ve wanted to help him, most people in the south were just like that. “Sir, I would truly love to help but I don’t have a car, my daddy took it.”
☠︎ His face didn’t change, didn’t fall, didn’t even falter. “O-Oh, well, that’s fine, if you could just let me, I could use a telephone if you have it.” You just tilted your head, no doubt feeling sympathetic, most didn’t come around, especially not in the shape he was in. “I-I suppose I could let you in, um, I just um, what’s your name?” You asked, your eyebrow raised in question, staring at him with those big, innocent eyes.
☠︎ “It’s Remmick,” He said, offering a weak smile, earning a small nod from you. “Okay, um, well, c-come on in, Remmick, I won’t be on the telephone for more than a minute or two.” You returned the smile, moving out of the doorway to let him through, a strange, sudden feeling of dread washing over you as he passed the threshold of the doorway.
☠︎ He didn’t follow you, not closely, he looked through the open doors, seeing if there was anybody else in the house. “You alone in this house?” He asked, gritty, hoarse, almost as if he was holding back himself. “Yes, sir.” You hesitated when you answered, freezing in your tracks for a quick moment, “A girl like you, all alone in this big house? Dangerous, someone could get their hands on you, hurt you real bad.” He shuddered, earning a small, worried glance from you. “I can hold my own, sir.” You offered a small smile, trying to ease the tension. He didn’t return it.
☠︎ “The telephone is in the kitchen, you can wait in the sittin’ room if you want.” If your mama was home, she would’ve said you were being rude not inviting him to sit in the kitchen with you. But she wasn’t home, and something told you this man was a predator. “I can stand in the kitchen with you,” “No, really, I insist on waitin’ in the sittin’ room.” His face fell almost imperceptibly when you got slightly firm, like he wasn’t used to being put in his place. “Alright.” His smile was false, filled with spite.
☠︎ You quickly dialed the phone, not even bothering to put in a real number, something about this man wasn’t right and you needed to get him out. After two minutes, you came back out, entering the living room, lip bitten, meek almost. “Nobody picked up the telephone, I’m sorry sir, I can give you directions…” You offered a small, uncomfortable smile, not making eye contact. “Why would I leave?” He asked, like he knew something you didn’t, but that knot in your gut tightened. “Because I’m sure you’d get some better help from someone else.” Your voice cracked mid-sentence, revealing the fear you were trying to hide.
☠︎ He smiled, like he got a bunny trapped in a cage. “Oh, don’t be scared, I ain’t gonna hurt you… Not terribly.” You stepped back, an uneasy look on your face, eyes wide and wet with tears that were better left unshed, you really didn’t need more leverage against yourself. “Don’t run, that’ll get you nowhere,” His voice was condescending, domineering. “If you just stay there, it won’t hurt none.” “What…” Your voice shook, eyes finally lifting up, meeting his. “...What are you..?” The question was miniscule, small in the grand scheme of things. It wouldn’t stop him, hell, it wouldn’t even buy you time. “I ain’t nothin’ to be ‘fraid of, I'm just a hungry, hungry man, and you look like the perfect meal for me.”
☠︎ His mouth was on you before you could even blink, and you tried to fight, you really did, but he had already sunk his teeth in, your tears escaping your eyes in big, watery drops and a low, heaving sob protruding from your throat. He went for the most available place, your neck. He wasn’t gentle, why would he be? You were another meal to him, another brick in the wall.
☠︎ When he stopped, you were still sobbing, collapsed on the ground, gripping your bleeding neck, gasping for air like he had personally ripped out your windpipe. It felt like it at least. “Oh, don’t look so sad, I can’t stand the big puppy dog eyes, makes you look pathetic.” He said coldly, staring down at your useless attempts to stop the bleeding, he didn’t look disgusted, no, he looked like he was trying to restrain himself from doing something else, something less violent and impersonal.
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