Just Misunderstood
By: TheSilverHyena
Warning:: Contains Mature/Adult Content, Violence and Gore, and Adult Language. If you cannot HANLDE these sorts of things, you might want to go elsewhere. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Chapter 3: Part of the Family
It had barely been about twenty minutes, hardly enough time to process the grief numbing Blake to the very soul, when the girl could hear footsteps approaching her room. At first, she thought it was Luda Mae, but they didn't sound right, too heavy. Thomas perked up, a low grunt escaping his throat as the person on the other side of the door began opening the lock. Groggily, Blake leaned against the massive brute's chest, not that she really had a say in the matter, as he held onto her quite possessively.
A sharp pain lanced through Blake's head, causing her to close her eyes and wince. A force of habit, anymore, to try and see what someone was thinking.
"Hey Tommy! Boy, you in there doin'-?" called a disturbingly familiar voice as the door creaked open.
In stepped an older man, probably in his late fifties to early sixties in a sheriff's uniform. While he may have worn the uniform and carried the gear a policeman would wear, he certainly didn't carry himself like one, at least not like one Blake had ever seen. It seemed more like he was just a grown adult "playing cop." His hair was graying and quite wiry, and the look in his eyes could only be described as predatory.
"Well, well, well, I thought I'd find you in here, boy. What's that you got there, now?"
Blake remembered hearing the voice. This was Hoyt. Sheriff Hoyt. And how Blake hated being right! Her discomfort grew tenfold when he strode to her bedside and smiled down at her, showing tobacco stained teeth and reeking of beer. Thomas didn't take his eyes off of his uncle, merely adjusted his grip on the nervous female in his arm and stroked her silky brown hair in an effort to keep her calm.
"Now ain't you just a purdy lil' thing," Sheriff Hoyt practically purred, with a voice that held subtle malice, "Nice and quiet, plenty docile, no wonder the boy here likes ya."
"I-I'm Blake, sir." Blake stammered, doing her best to be polite despite how much she was feeling creeped out right now.
"No need to be so shy, little darlin'. We're all family here, after all," the sheriff said, calmly while he stroked Blake's soft yet pale-skinned cheek with two fingers.
Without a word, Blake flinched, taking in a shaky breath and lowering her mismatched eyes.
"Pleasure to finally meetcha now that you're awake. With any luck, we'll get to know each other real good. But I'm afraid I'll have to borrow Tommy there. See, we got us some work to do."
There was something rather malevolent in the way he worded that. Like some sort of sick joy. Thomas however, let out what sounded like a cross between a growl and a disappointed whine, pulling Blake closer to him.
"You'll have plenty of time to fool around with her later, Tommy. Mamma's on er' way up, she'll look after your new doll. Let's go! Chores ain't gonna do themselves, boy." Hoyt grumbled, his unwavering glare staring daggers into the giant.
Eventually, Thomas submissively broke his gaze and began to get up. He carefully lowered a rather bewildered and scared Blake back down into her pillows, tucking her in before following after his uncle.
"Thomas...?" Blake asked.
When the massive man stopped abruptly, perking up, Blake suddenly felt her mouth go dry and her words refused to leave her mouth. What was she even going to say to him anyway? Was she already missing his company? Maybe she just didn't want to be left by herself.
'Get a grip, Blake! These people have kidnapped you!' she scolded herself.
Despite the fact that she didn't say anything more, Thomas grunted and nodded, though as the two men left to deal with whatever their "chores" were, Luda Mae had come in as they were leaving, even giving Hoyt a light scolding not to "frighten the poor girl." The older woman huffed and rolled her eyes, then offered Blake a sad smile before setting down the tray she was holding on the nightstand and pulled her chair back up to Blake's bedside.
"Don't let Hoyt there bother you none. He tends ta try an' get people goin'. Especially his nephew. Practically a hobby of his." Luda Mae sighed, sounding rather exasperated, "You just focus on gettin' better, sweetheart."
"W-what e-exactly d-d-did he mean by... Tommy's n-new doll?" Blake questioned.
Just asking that had caused her to squirm uncomfortably, that or it was the old bed springs poking at her back. (More then likely, it was the question.) It felt... dehumanizing, like she was merely an object for their enjoyment and not a living, breathing person.
"That's just Hoyt bein' an ass! Pay it no mind, dear. Tommy just adores you," Luda Mae explained, her voice sincere and firm, "Now, I brought ya somethin to eat. Nothin' quite like meal time to bring the family together."
While she spoke, disturbingly cheerfully, the elderly lady took the bowl of homemade soup off the tray. Now, Blake wasn't exactly keen on eating anything that they had to offer, though she realized that she may have been being a little silly and too paranoid. They wouldn't have bothered tending to her injuries only to poison her. Drugging? Well, Blake wasn't exactly in any shape to fight back anyway, so drugs were unneeded if they wanted her to comply with anything. Still, the girl didn't feel much like eating, not after everything that had happened.
"N-no t-thank you. I-I'm not hungry."
A loud rumbling from Blake's painfully empty stomach immediately gave that statement away as the lie it was. With a guilty sigh, the girl turned her ashamed, mismatched gaze to Luda Mae.
"Doncha be fibbing me, girl. While under this roof, yer gonna eat. Gotta keep you healthy and rebuild your strength." Luda Mae stated, firmly.
There was a small part of Blake that wanted to argue. That wanted to throw that bowl, hot soup and all, across the room. She didn't want to eat, even though her weakened body demanded that she needed nourishment. Part of her just... really didn't want to keep going.
'My father... my... my guardian angels... t-they didn't go through Hell and back, risk everything for me... just so that I could give up and throw it all away now.' she thought to herself, once again feeling another solid twinge of guilt.
She could have easily died many years ago when she was just a child. She would have, had Jason and Lisa Voorhees never found her and took her under their protection. Her father... dear God, her father... he had given his life so that she would still have hers. Blake was something rare in this world, a kind and gentle soul that would rather heal then harm. This selfishness she was feeling, it was something Blake hadn't felt in a long time, but it didn't sit right with her. To give up now would be an insult to her father and her friends. Besides, there were her dogs, Toby and Jason to think about as well. Perhaps once she was better, Blake would be able to slip away in the dead of night and they'd be none the wiser.
"I... I'm sorry... i-it's just-"
"You're just upset, dear. Gonna need time to adjust to the way we do things 'round here. Come on now, open up." Luda Mae insisted, "You'll feel better once ya got somethin' in ya."
Blake would have preferred feeding herself, but with her questionable and shaky hands, Luda Mae insisted on spoon feeding her as you would a sick child. In all honesty, her cooking wasn't half bad. The soup was simple, but well seasoned, with savory broth and garden vegetables. But the meat... that threw Blake off. She couldn't quite place what exactly it was. It was cut up like beef chunks that you'd find in beef stew, but that wasn't quite it. Luda Mae seemed to smile as the girl ate it though. Once Blake was finished, Luda Mae gave her some water.
"T-thank you, Mrs. Hewitt." Blake said, remaining ever polite.
"There now, there's a good girl! Yer lookin' better already, more color in the cheeks." Luda Mae noted, lightly running her fingers along Blake's soft skin.
Carefully, Blake sat up a bit. There was something that she needed to tell the old lady, now! Kidnapper or not, she needed to know.
"Mrs. Hewitt? I... T-there's something you and y-your f-family need to know."
"And just what's that, child?"
Luda Mae's cheerful tone and expression dropped when she saw just how scared and fidgety Blake was. Honestly, the young psychic was having trouble trying to get this out right without sounding like a complete lunatic, and the fear of getting killed lingered as well.
"T-those people... t-the ones b-back at the store... t-t-they weren't there to rob you," Blake explained, "T-they are members of... of a dangerous and horrific cult c-called the Soldiers of Eternal Damnation. I-if you keep me here, they will find me and they will butcher you and your entire family for harboring me. I'm what they want. Please, for the sake of your family, you have to let me go." she pleaded further.
Luda Mae thought for a moment, looking down at Blake with a quizzical gaze. Come to think of it, she did remember how those blasphemous heathens singled Blake out. Yet she did not acknowledge this. She merely cooed softly, placing her hand on the girl's forehead.
"Oh sweet child... must just be the fever dreams getting' to ya."
"N-no... these aren't fever dreams! These people are very real and da-! Danger... d-danger... d-dangerous..."
Blake's words began to slur and she felt incredibly tired. It was then that she noticed Luda Mae withdraw her hand with what looked like a syringe in it. Where was she hiding that? In her apron pocket? On the tray with her dinner?
"There, that ought to quiet ya down now. No need to be getting' yerself all upset. Yer with family, we look out for each other. Besides, you got my boy Tommy to protect ya and keep ya safe. Ain't no one gonna take ya away from us, little one," the old woman stated, giving Blake a gentle pat on the shoulder, "Let me just take this downstairs, and I'll be back up to change them old bandages."
TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~
Well, she had tried, but it was obvious that her captors either didn't believe her or knew that she was telling the truth and just didn't care. Blake really couldn't do or say much, aside from some unintelligible moans and babbling as Luda Mae changed the old, soiled dressings from the girl's wounds and put fresh medicine and bandages on. All the while, the elderly lady sang softly, an old lullaby that Blake was somewhat familiar with and ran through her head long after Luda Mae had left.
'Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mamma's gonna buy you a mocking bird. And if that mocking bird don't sing, Mamma's gonna buy you a diamond ring.'
While the intention may have been to comfort and soothe, Blake had just felt uneasy about the whole thing but there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it.
Sometime during the night, she had felt something, or rather someone, incredibly large cuddle up to her shortly after she had fallen asleep. Even in the now dark room, Blake's tired eyes cracked open, and could make out Thomas' hulking form. The smell of leather and iron accompanied him and it wasn't long until he was gently snoring, keeping a firm but gentle hold on the fragile girl he had come to adore in an incredibly short period of time. While Blake may have appreciated the warmth, seeing as the night had gotten rather cold, some of the words Hoyt had used earlier greatly bothered her, preventing her from getting any decent rest.
"Foolin' around with her", "New doll", and she had even vaguely remembered hearing him say at some point, "Tommy doesn't even know what to do with a woman."
Just what did they have in mind for her? They seemed adamant about nursing her back to health, but for what? So that she could be the behemoth's little pet housewife? Were they going to try and domesticate her? Furthermore, what more would Thomas really want... with her? In all honesty, she'd rather not find out.
The next few days proved to be somewhat trying for Blake. She wanted to relax and heal in peace, but with the weight of her father's death crushing down on her, listening to the mournful howling of her distraught dogs during both night and daytime, and being continuously prodded and inspected, it hadn't exactly been very restful. Occasionally she'd wake up to the sounds of screaming and indecipherable shouting, but whether they were actually coming from downstairs of just the hazy remnants of a dream remained to be seen. Although her injuries were steadily mending and her old strength was returning, Blake still felt a horrific migraine headache set in every time she tried to use her abilities.
One night, while she was half asleep, Blake could feel Thomas' massive bear paw sized hand stroking her form above the bed covers. When his hand came to a rest on her stomach, she thought she had heard Luda Mae's hushed voice say something along the lines of, "Yes Tommy. That's right. But you'll have to wait until she's all better."
Blake didn't get much rest the next few nights after that. She thought she had a pretty good idea of what the old bat was talking about, she just prayed that she was wrong.
However as the days ticked by, into what she calculated to be into the next week, Blake couldn't help but notice how Thomas would always do his best to try and keep her content and comfortable. With as much as his rustic and outdated way of living would permit, he pampered her whenever given the opportunity. He even brought Blake her sketch pad, pencils, an old, worn teddy bear with an eye patch, and her copy of her favorite book, In your Nightmares, up for her. From what she could tell, he must have been horribly lonely throughout his life. No one really taught him boundaries and that personal space was important, especially around those you care about. While Luda Mae took care of him and showered him with affection, and he seemed to spend a lot of time with his Uncle Hoyt, Blake had noticed how he would follow and obey their orders without question. Like a trained and fiercely loyal dog that had a somewhat childish mentality. Just what had they been doing to him?
'Well, you can solve that mystery while working on a plot to escape, genius.' Blake sighed to herself.
She finished up her plate of scrambled eggs and sausage, to which Luda Mae grinned as she took the dishes back.
"Last breakfast in bed fer ya, I reckon. You is lookin' much better, you was able to keep steady on yer feet yesterday. I'd say after a nice bath you ought to finally come downstairs and get better acquainted with the family. And with how we do things 'round here." Luda Mae stated, sounding far too cheerful.
"B-but the-the stitches a-aren't out yet. I... I can't safely t-take a bath or h-have a shower, n-not without risking an infection. Blake pointed out, trying to keep her voice steady and hide the fear that lanced it's way up and down her spine and straight into her heart.
"Nonsense dear, Tommy will be here to help ya out. Oh, he just loves ya so much! It'll be good for both of you, help to bond you two."
Without giving Blake a chance to say anything (or choice about what was going to happen next,) Luda Mae called for Thomas from the doorway. Almost immediately, there was the sound of feet pounding their way up the stairs and a door... sliding open, maybe? A metal door, perhaps? They must have had a basement or something. At least that's what Blake guessed from what she could hear. But that really didn't matter, as the same, large footsteps could be heard making their way up to her room. Soon enough, Thomas' loud breathing could be heard from the doorway.
"Ummmm... I-I'll b-be fine doing it m-myself." Blake choked out.
Blissfully ignoring the girl, Luda Mae patted her enormous son's arm, giving him his instructions before leaving, to which Thomas happily obliged. The giant brute looked like he had been working with something messy and hastily cleaned himself up, though before Blake could wave off his "assistance", he was already helping her onto her feet and to the small, private bathroom connected to her bedroom. It hadn't been anything spectacular, just an old, claw foot bathtub with a shower, simple sink, antique mirror, wash basin and pitcher. (Though it was a welcome relief when Blake found out that they at least had running water and indoor plumbing.) Thomas had brought the chair his mother had been using to keep a seat at the girl's bedside and had Blake sit down and lean her head back towards the partially filled basin.
"Thomas, w-what are y-you... doing?"
He didn't answer, instead removing the bandages from around Blake's forehead, which weren't needed anymore, before pouring warm water from the pitcher over her hair and running his large fingers through it. Although her heart still raced, Blake began to relax, even finding a little bit of pleasure in this gesture. Every few days Luda Mae had given her a light sponge bath but it had been too long since her hair had been properly washed and groomed. A sweet scent filled Blake's nose, which she identified as peaches. It was then she realized that he was using a scented shampoo in her hair, following up with a conditioner.
'Just where exactly would they have gotten something like that?' Blake pondered, turning her head.
There seemed to be a pretty decent collection of different soaps and hair care products, most of it travel sized and partially used. This... left Blake feeling concerned, and a nauseous pit formed in her stomach. She didn't have much time to ponder about it, as once her hair was rinsed off and patted down with a towel, Thomas began tugging at her nightgown with a soft grunt, trying to pull it off of her.
Blake let out a terrified squeak, wrapping her arms around herself, desperately trying to keep her one, flimsy piece of covering on, "S-stop! D-don't!"
Her voice was shaking, she lowered her gaze, trying to hide her tears. Blake already felt helpless enough. She did not want to be naked in front of him. Nightmares from her past were already creeping into her mind, when those robed, devil-worshiping freaks had taken her as a child. For days, she would lie, bound and gagged in a cold room, stark naked, more often then not covered in her own filth. Feeling a massive hand on her shoulder, Blake jerked back with another frightful yelp, instinctively curling in on herself for protection.
Thomas let out a soft, worried growl, cupping his hand under the trembling girl's chin to make her look up at him. There was deep concern, like he was worried that he had accidentally hurt her.
"I-it's n-not... y-I... I d-did it to... myself." Blake whimpered, closing her eyes grasping her still mending injury.
Jumping like that had pulled a muscle in her side, which throbbed painfully. When she opened her eyes, Thomas held out a large, gray bath towel, large enough so that she'd be able to keep her modesty once she shed the old nightgown.
"T-thank you..." Blake managed, with a weak smile.
Thomas grunted again, nodding as he proceeded to strip Blake of her nightwear and let her cover up with the towel instead. He placed his hand over his heart, then moved his hand over Blake's, smiling beneath his mask. This was becoming a habit of his, his way of expressing 'I love you' towards her. However, the massive brute's eyes widened in childlike wonder when he finally saw her bare back for the first time. Gently, Thomas turned the girl around so that he could get a better look, even partially moving her towel.
Tattooed on Blake's back were a pair of detailed, black feathered wings. They were just beautiful, like they belonged on the back of an angel. Thomas perked up, then hugged the girl to him, taking in her scent deeply as he did, while nuzzling her cheek. A gentle disposition, then those exotic eyes, and now wings? Perhaps not real wings, only art upon the skin, but it was obvious Thomas loved them.
"Y-you like my tattoo?" Blake questioned.
A silly question. At once, Thomas grunted happily. How many more treasures did this beautiful, special girl have for him to unravel? Blake took in a deep breath, trying to relax as his hands began to trace the outline of the wings on her back.
"M-my d-daddy got them f-for me... m-my Sweet Sixteen present. He told me that an angel should have wings." she reminisced, sadly.
Thomas couldn't have agreed more. Gently and carefully, he took a wet washcloth and began scrubbing Blake's shoulders and back, then moved to her legs, helping her to get where it'd be difficult and painful for her to reach. Much to Blake's relief, she was at least able to take care of her more... personal areas, though bathing with a massive, masked man right next to her with an unwavering gaze was still nerve wrecking to say the least.
When bath time was finished, Blake kept the towel wrapped tightly around her midsection. One thing she hadn't really thought of... where were her clothes? She didn't have a change, at least not that she knew of.
"Oh good! Excellent timin', hun." Luda Mae announced, entering the room just as Thomas and Blake left the bathroom, causing the later of the two to jump right into the giant's chest.
Blushing with embarrassment, Blake scrambled to make sure that her towel covered her up, while Thomas kept a firm but careful hold on her, just in case she decided to try and dart through the open door.
"Didn't mean to startle ya none, little one. I just thoughtcha might like somethin' clean to change into." Luda Mae explained, with a warm smile, "Wouldn't do right ta have ya wearin' that old nightgown 'round the house!"
Laid out on the bed was a rather modest white cotton dress along with a clean pair of panties and an apron, though... these things didn't belong to Blake.
"Ummmm... Mrs. Hewitt... y-you wouldn't h-happen to still have my backpack would you?" Blake questioned, "T-there's s-some clothes i-in there t-that I'd l-like to have... f-for another time."
In all honesty, she really wanted her t-shirts and jeans. With that creep Hoyt skulking about, Blake really didn't feel comfortable wearing dresses of any sort. But Luda Mae simply shook her head and firmly stated,
"Oh no. No nice, respectable young lady in this family is gonna be caught dressin' like a man. Besides, you just looked so pretty in that nice blue sundress the day ya came into my store... pity it was damaged. Go on now an' git dressed, I think yer well enough to help out a little today. Come an' see me in the kitchen when yer ready, child."
Blake wanted to protest, but wisely kept her mouth shut for the time being. Meanwhile, Luda Mae left for the kitchen and Thomas waited patiently outside, leaving the girl alone in her room to change.
She had to fight the nervous lump forming in her throat. Blake knew what they were trying to do. Deciding what she was to wear; this was a control tactic. First they lock away her dogs, take away her weapons, then ignored her warnings about the cult that was hunting her. They were trying to strip her of her former life. Of her identity. Mealtimes had always been carefully thought out, and from what Blake saw, they didn't really have snacks. Another method of control. Dress the way they say. Eat when and what they say. But there were some things that couldn't be bound or taken away, things that her captors didn't know about.
"Do not give in! Don't loose yourself. Even if they beat me, cane me... don't EVER let them tame me!" Blake hissed to herself, before letting her towel drop to the floor.
Quickly as she could manage, Blake got herself changed, thankful that the clothes provided for her fit comfortably and looked okay on her. Her hair was still damp, though with the temperature rising at a steady pace, it would be dry before long. She sighed heavily, noting that there weren't any shoes for her to wear, at least not right now. Barefoot and in the kitchen... sometimes Blake had heard that phrase mentioned, but even she never predicted that it would happen to her. She felt like a servant girl or a maid. But, if anything else, she'd be able to case the house, study her kidnappers and learn the best route of escape.
'Here goes nothing.' she thought, bleakly.
Before leaving, Blake tried using her powers once more, stopping when the severe pain lanced through her head. Luckily, it dissipated by the time she joined Thomas in the hall. He seemed pleased with what he saw. Blake was such a pretty girl and while he towered over her in an intimidating fashion, he had been nothing but kind towards the much smaller female.
"Lead the way, Thomas."
At her request, Thomas guided the girl past the other bedrooms and communal upstairs bathroom, to the large flight of stairs leading to the main foyer. To the right was the rather large living area and to the left was the kitchen and dining room. On the right hand side of the corridor before the stairs was a large, rather intimidating sliding steel door. Upon just getting close to it, small pinpricks of pain began squirming within her mind, causing her to yelp and pull away.
Growling softly in concern, Thomas stroked Blake's hair, striding past the spooky metal door, eventually steering her into the kitchen. All around the walls were counter space with cabinets up above and below with a door leading into the back yard where the clotheslines were set up. Apparently they had a stove, a refrigerator with a freezer, and thankfully a sink with running water. But much to her dismay, no automatic dishwasher or other modern luxuries. It was like stepping back in time. Running water, electricity, and some semi-modern appliances were the only things preventing this place from regressing completely into the dark ages!
At the large, white square table in the center of the kitchen sat Hoyt, who was just finishing up his breakfast and taking a swig of beer from the half consumed bottle beside him. Luda Mae turned from the sink, dish towel and plate in hand, smiling brightly as Thomas brought Blake in. Right now, the frightened girl just wanted to return to her room, curl up in a dark corner and just hide. She trembled all over and could no longer hide how tense and anxious she was.
"Well now, lookie here. She can walk! Come on, little darlin', don't be shy now, let's have a look atcha." Hoyt mentioned, flashing another sinister smile, "Yer lookin' better... mhmmmm, much, much better."
Thomas let out a slight growl, trying to use his larger size to hide Blake from his uncle's view. Hoyt was usually the one to take control of any given situation and claim what he wanted. But Blake was different. Luda Mae, his mother, gave Blake to HIM! Blake was HIS girl. No one else would have her or take her away from him!
"Hoyt! Give the poor child some space and time to adjust before pouncin' all over her. Can'tcha just say a simple hello?" Luda Mae sighed, "You don't worry 'bout a thing dearie. Come on over here, now. Just gotta finish with the dishes then there's laundry to wash and put out on the line."
Thomas grunted once more, leveling a dirty glare to his uncle.
"Oh come on now, boy, you know I was just givin' a bit of a tease. No harm," Hoyt admitted, though he didn't sound entirely sincere, "You and me got some work to do, Tommy. Got some more earlier this mornin'."
Blake struggled to find her words, or the strength to take another step forward for that matter. Just what did Hoyt mean by "got some more"? More what? Fearful that asking too many questions might get her killed, Blake complied, taking one last look back at Thomas before making her way over to Luda Mae and began to help with hand washing the dishes. Though before Hoyt and Thomas left, the massive brute strode to her side and hugged the much smaller girl before leaving to assist his uncle with "work".
"Blake darlin', you just look so beautiful. I am really glad that you found your way into our lives, especially my boy's." Luda Mae sighed, blissfully.
"T-thank you, ma'am." Blake said, quietly.
"Oh, no need fer you to 'ma'am' me, you can just call me Mamma now."
Somehow, Luda Mae's insistence that Blake call her "Mamma" offered little comfort to the already shaken girl.
TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~
As the day went on, Blake settled into an uneasy routine, mostly consisting of assisting Luda Mae with the chores and housekeeping. Everything around here seemed to be done the old fashioned way; food was prepared from scratch. They made their own preserved foods, doing the jarring and canning themselves. There was no washing machine, instead the laundry room had a couple of tubs and wash boards. Keeping the front rooms clean mostly consisted of sweeping and 'on hands and knees' scrubbing. The living room did have an old style TV, an antique leftover from the 70's or older with none of the modern luxuries such as On Demand. Come to think of it, there was no computer, not even a phone... that she knew of, anyway.
Usually the TV room was occupied by a much older man that had introduced himself as "Uncle Monty". Both legs had been cut off at the knee and he was stuck in a wheelchair. While he may have come off as old and grumpy, Blake did feel a little sympathy for him. Though that waned severely when she noticed him watching her backside rather intently at every moment he got. It was a welcome relief when Luda Mae had asked her to help with getting the clothes out on the line.
Although every part of Blake's mind was telling her to run as soon as the old woman's back was turned, hearing the sad, baying howls and whimpers coming from the barn across the yard made the girl stay right where she was. Toby and Jason had been there for Blake, they kept her safe, to just abandon them here with these people would have been downright heartless. The poor beasts missed her terribly and she missed them.
"Easy there, girl. I know you wanna get it done an' over with, but don't overdo it, especially in yer condition. You been workin' four hours straight, not a peep outta ya. Would ya like some tea and ta take a break?" Luda Mae questioned, wiping the sweat from her brow.
Blake snapped out of her thoughts, clipping the last shirt on the line. (What she would have given for the luxury of her washer and dryer back home!)
"A-actually... I-I was really hoping to get to s-see Toby and Jason again. Please... it's been two weeks." Blake requested, trying to hold back her tears.
Luda Mae thought for a moment, she really didn't want to go anywhere near those dogs, but they didn't bother Thomas none.
"Tell ya what, dear. You has been doin' such a good job, I'll have Tommy take ya when the work's done. How's that?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Hewitt."
Blake wasn't about to start calling her "Mamma", that old woman couldn't possibly understand.
So... she needed supervised visits in order to see her own dogs? Truly this insane family of backwoods rednecks was her prison now. What of the Soldiers of Eternal Damnation? It would only be a matter of time before they tracked her down. Then what? She already knew that the Hewitts weren't afraid of killing, as she had seen in the convinces store that day.
But soon, Blake would discover the deep, dark secret festering within the bowels of that house. The vile truth of what that family was REALLY up to. Pandora's Box was about to be opened.
::To be Continued::
Author's Notes:: This chapter not only has some more of the growing bond between Blake and Thomas, but more interactions with the rest of the family as well. Life as Blake knows it is only going to get tougher from here!
In all honesty, I found Hoyt to be a total pervert and creep, so I'm preparing to pull out all the stops with that guy. The other thing I wanted to delve into was Thomas' relationship with his family. He may be the big guy who wields the chainsaw, but he's actually pretty low ranking in the hierarchy, following the orders that Luda Mae or Hoyt give him, despite the fact that he'd be able to snap them in half like toothpicks.
I myself have always found the concept of a "Benevolent Captivity" to be somewhat disturbing. When your kidnappers are nice to you, you know they're up to something and want you to offer it to them freely. Leaving you close to freedom but knowing that you wont get it. Grooming a captive into submission under the guise of being humane, it gives me chills. (Also, watching shows like Criminal Minds and CSI... always gives me ideas!) Simple things like selecting what your prisoner wears and eats, it's a form of psychological control.
The Hewitts seem to thrive on a mix of psychological and physical torture, which I think is why they were so compelling to me. Same reason I like Freddy Krueger so much. But while Freddy is a lone wolf, the Hewitts are a family unit working together. EVERYONE in the family is in on the action and condones it. How is Blake going to respond? Especially once she finds out the truth? You'll just have to wait, wont you?
Reviews are like coffee, they keep me going, refreshed, and energized. PMs are much the same. While I have certain ideas planned out for later chapters, I am open to suggestions and I love chatting and making new friends! Hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer:: I do not claim to own The Texas Chainsaw Massacre or any of it's characters. The references to Jason Voorhees and Lisa Voorhees are from Lady_Vorrhees' story, The Strange Good Girl.