Been thinking about this for a while. Takes place when John captures you and holds you and Hudson in his torture room.
—
As soon as I heard the door close behind me, I let out a breath. John Seed both terrified and infuriated me.
It was one thing to hear him over my radio, voice unassumingly light and playful. Lilting out threats, promising affirmations, mocking resistance — it had all been noise to me between gunshots as I ran across the cult in Hope County. Sometimes, it would devolve into screams that sounded so familiar, and I knew if I listened too closely I would hear Hudson. And that wasn't something I could do, not when all my plans congregated around saving her.
Although my first encounter with John lacked any jest, I still hadn't been as frightened as I am now. At that time, Joseph came to my rescue, voice stern, yet somehow soothing in the darkness. I could faintly recall him urging his younger brother to love me, love those who he baptized. Even wet, shivering in the cool air, and trying to catch my breath, I could tell the crazy bastard actually looked shamefaced. But now, to watch him nail pieces of fucking skin to a board, all smiling like making a car deal, I could have pissed my pants. Perhaps I would have, if I was first captured along with the rest of my team. Five years on the force and multiple run-ins with the Seeds over the last few months didn't seem to have helped Hudson. What had it taken him to break her? I'm afraid I won't be as resilient.
I took a deep breath, allowing myself a moment of pause to focus the rising panic in me into determination. I was alone, for who knows how long, and I needed to act.
I scanned my surroundings. In my periphery I could see the knife sharpening rod John had casually tossed aside. I glanced at the table. The only thing on the bloody wood was the stapler. I strained my wrist against the tape keeping me in the chair. Even if I could get my hands free, a stapler was not much of a weapon. I craned my neck over my shoulder, but couldn't see the door John left through. I can't leave without saving Hudson. Once I found a weapon, I was going to make sure we both made it out of here.
My only option now looked like that open door in the corner. I hadn't heard a thing since John left, so hopefully it would be safe on the other side. Or as safe as any path in a fucking psycho cult's bunker. I could almost laugh at the absurdity of it all, if not for the smell of blood, urine, and sweat around me. My muscles still felt heavy with Bliss, but the threat of John returning was all the motivation I needed to start rolling toward the door.
With my feet tied together, I made intermittent pushes with my toes, moving the chair closer and closer to the door. Once through, sweaty and breathing heavy, I met stairs. Now...now I only had one option. The tape tying me to the chair had loosened with the pulling and struggling as I made my way across the room. Maybe if I could land at just the right angle, catch the edge of some stairs, I could tear myself free. This wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me since I handcuffed Joseph Seed. With a prayer to a God I only somewhat believed in, I rolled myself off.
Each bump sent pain across my body, and my head clipped the railing.
I withheld a groan once I hit the ground. No need to alert anyone more than my heroic fall already did. I pulled my wrists against the loose tape. If I could just shift this way...there! I rubbed the tape against the edge of the bottom stair, the friction weakening it. I ignored the aches in my body and the sharp pain and wet spot at my temple left by the railing on my way down. No time to spare. I'll deal with everything that hurts later.
I finally pulled my left hand free, then quickly reached to tear off the tape on my other wrist. There! Now my ankles. Blood pounded in my ears, adrenaline coursed through my tired body.
"C'mon!" I finally yanked the tape free and stumbled to my feet.
"Going somewhere?"
Arms were suddenly around me, encircling my torso and pinning my own arms to my side.
No.
I screamed, focusing all my energy on trying to plant my feet and shake off the tight hold. I was so close. Too close. I could hear John grunting, breath hot at my ear as he hulled me back up the stairs.
No.
This shouldn't be so easy for him, I reasoned. He had height and weight, but I didn't spend two fucking years as a police officer before joining the Hope County Sheriff's Office to just get pushed around by some clown.
"Let go!" I barked, thrashing in his arms and trying to catch the railing with my feet. My boots hopelessly slipped between the balusters.
"Oh, deputy," John drawled in that teasing manner that I've learned to loathe. "You think you're too good for confession?"
We were at the top of the stairs now, and I tried to plant my feet. It was useless. John began dragging me across the room, laughing like he had found me in hide and seek. Laughing like this was a game.
For him, it was.
We were getting closer to the table, pieces of skin awaiting my own to join. This wasn't happening.
I snapped my head back, catching John's nose. He yelled, his hold weakened, and I pushed him off with all the strength that I had at the moment.
"Bitch!" John grabbed me by the back of my brown coat and pulled. I dropped my arms and allowed the jacket to easily slip off. I lunged for the stapler on the table.
My fingers brushed the metal handle just as John yanked me by the back of my shirt. Once again, I found herself held tight against him.
"Get off!" I yelled, hoping he would maybe humor me.
"You're going to regret that," said John, voice firm. There was no longer any hint of mirth, and I almost froze at the malice.
"Fuck off!" I shouted instead. Then, slammed my heel onto his foot. Again, his hold loosened, and I slipped down out of his arms, no longer having the energy to push him off.
I needed a weapon, maybe —
I hit the ground.
Face down, I groaned as John put all his weight on me and twisted my arms. He held tightly to my wrists, pinning them to my back. I pushed up with my hips and tried to gain some leverage with my feet, but he was sitting on my thighs.
I felt his body shift, and he leaned into me, breath hitting my ear. I cringed, disgust rolling in my stomach at how close he was. I could feel the heat for his torso, could feel him settled against my thighs.
"I think I know your sin."
I screamed as he pulled my hair.
"Guess what it is."
He yanked my head back farther and exposed my neck. I managed to hold back another scream. A bastard like him probably gets off on people screaming.
"Fuck you," I bit out. I wasn't going to say yes, not this time. I had only said it the first time because I couldn't handle the thought of Hudson going through any more torture if I could stop it
"Guess!"
"No!"
He slammed my face into the cement. I felt blood on my forehead, dazed, and vaguely felt John's body get off of mine. I needed to run, just run. Just a second and I could get up. The world spinned as I tried to push myself up. Suddenly, I was yanked by my arm across the floor. John rolled me onto my back and started dragging me across the ground. I tried to resist, feet pressing into the ground, but it was useless. He stopped and reached for my other arm. The cool metal of the table leg brought me back to my dire situation and I began struggling. Then, the tape was being rolled right over my wrists, effectively binding me to one of the table legs.
"You really like to make things difficult." John was standing above me, blood under his nose, and lips pulled into a firm line. For once, I didn't think to quip back, only pull my hands. I didn't like this, didn't like being prone on the floor with this psychopath looking at me like a cockroach he could crush. He walked over to where he placed his tattoo gun, and I continued my effort to get free.
"I was so happy you said yes. But I should have expected you to be a liar."
John's words were background noise, and went unregistered as I focused on getting free. I lifted my hips, planted my feet, and pulled my arms. It wasn't working. In my periphery I could see John stalking over, tattoo gun in hand.
"Get away from me!" I yelled, hoping I could just buy some time. That with some more willing and pulling, I could break free of my bounds.
"Your sin," said John, slamming his foot into my stomach and knocked the wind out of me, "is wrath."
In my moment of vulnerability he dropped onto me, sitting on my stomach and holding up the tattoo gun. His other hand reached for my shirt, tearing it further down the front, past my bra. He was smiling, softly and in some sickening loving way, eyes on my chest, or maybe lower. My face burned with way he looked at me... I closed my eyes, took a breath. I couldn't think about that right now. I had to get out of this, I had gun buzzed to life.
"Wait!" I snapped open my eyes. John's blue eyes moved from my chest to meet me. The brightness struck me since I first watched his television broadcast. His eyes were kind. They seemed so welcoming, hiding a horrible twisted monster underneath.
"What?" He sounded irritated.
"You don't have to do this." That was all I could say, and it sounded so weak. John laughed lightly.
"Of course I don't have to. I want to."
The needle touched my skin, and I moaned. I bucked my chest, struggling to get any relief.
"Stop struggling. It's supposed to say wrath, not rat."
I don't know why, but that was enough to cause me to settle down. This was happening, I realized. I have never gotten a tattoo. Have definitely considered some, but didn't expect it to be like this. The gun kept buzzing and I felt John hum, and rock his hips into me.
I closed my eyes. I couldn't bear to watch him work, watch him appraise the damage he had done. And I didn't want to see any of the lust his grinding suggested. I could take his anger, his envy, his wrath. But not this.
The buzzing finally stopped and the needle left my skin.
John hummed again. I opened my eyes. He was sitting back, and shifted his weight while smiling down at me.
He reached out, and I closed my eyes, awaiting a slap or punch.
His palm settled against my cheek.
I slowly opened my eyes, meeting blue. Then, he patted my cheek lightly, and placed his gun aside. He reached inside his vest, pulling out a syringe of clear liquid.
Bliss. It had to be Bliss.
I thrashed under him, newfound fear gripping my heart. I didn't want to fall into a hallucination or unconsciousness. I couldn't, not now.
John stabbed the needle into my thigh, and I screamed, more in frustration than pain. John finally got off of me, and started whistling an unknown tune. He picked up his gun and I followed him with my eyes, vision starting to blur.
"We're going to have so much, Deputy," said John, with a light laugh. "Well, I am anyway."
That's the last the thing I heard, before his words slurred together, and my vision turned dark.
—
This is going to be a dark fic. Might increase the rating. John is not a good man. Not sure when I will update next, but I have a general idea of the direction I want to go in.