Just Misunderstood

by thesilverhyena

Stranded under the unforgiving Texas heat, on the run from a deranged cult from her past, Blake McCormick and her father find themselves in Travis County and stumble into the old Last Chance Gas convenience store. There, Blake meets a large, mysterious, yet shy man. She is kind to him. She does not scream. Yet, she does not know what sort of Pandora's Box has just been opened.

10. Aftermath

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 10: Aftermath

It had been a complete blur of absolute confusion and chaos. This cut close... too close for comfort. No one went unscathed. After she had been able to calm down, if only a little, Blake hazily remembered washing the blood and gore off of her hands, rinsing the foul taste of blood and puke from her mouth, and grabbing the first aid kit from out of the downstairs bathroom. Thomas meanwhile, took both cultist corpses down to the basement and cleaned up 'the big chunks' to go through later, though the living room was still an absolute mess.

Everyone moved into the kitchen, where the mess wasn't as bad, cleaning out their various cuts and bites. Blake knew that they should all probably go to a hospital to get properly checked out, but the rest of the Hewitts weren't having any of it. They would weather such things as they always had, by the strength and willpower of their family. (That, and it wouldn't exactly look good for them walking into a clinic or hospital with a girl that had possibly been reported missing for a month and a half!) But at the very least, Blake had some medical training, even if she never had the chance to finish her schooling.

'Why don't you just run?' she hissed at herself, 'Why help these people?!'

Well for one, it might have had something to do with the fact that she was still chained. Secondly, even if she did shed her bindings, Blake was in no shape to flee right now and Thomas still had plenty of stamina left to hunt her down and catch her if she tried. Besides, by helping these people in their hour of need, perhaps she could get them to trust her more, enough to the point where they willingly take the chains off.

"Y-yer shakin, dearie." Luda Mae said, wincing slightly as her eyes met with Blake's, inadvertently snapping the girl from her racing thoughts, "You see to what that heathen did to ya, yet?"

"I-I... -cough, cough- n-not yet..." was all Blake could get out.

The girl may have been beat up and jabbed with that electrical prod more times then she'd care to remember, but none of the blood soiling her skin and clothes was actually hers. However, she held the sterilized needle and thread in her hand, knowing what to do, but her hands were shaking so badly the chains around her wrists were rattling. Blake took in several deep breaths, feeling very faint. Eventually, Thomas returned from the basement and cleaned the blood and muck off of his hands, before gently taking the needle and surgical suture from Blake and began to stitch his mother's wound with a much steadier hand.

"T-thank you, Thomas. F-for s-saving my life as well."

Holding back another fit of coughing, Blake gave him a small smile, all that she could manage at this point, before helping Uncle Monty clean and sterilize the cuts Vex had given him and bind those that didn't need stitches. (Her kindness only went so far, Hoyt would be last on her list!)

'Pretty Blake, welcome. Thomas protect family. Protect nice, pretty Blake.' Thomas grunted, mentally, not even looking up from his work.

While he may have been a massive brute that could saw you in half without batting an eye, it seemed as though Thomas was more adept at fixing broken flesh then most would realize or give him credit for. His stitches may have been rough, but they were sturdy and held the skin together well. Once Luda Mae was finished getting treated, she moved on to assist Blake with Monty and Hoyt.

"Yeh got some nice, gentle hands there, girlie." Hoyt commented, with a half perverse grin as Blake dabbed his shoulder clean with a soft wash rag, 'Wonder what else they'd be good fer? Heheh...'

He winced slightly as the girl "accidentally" applied more pressure then intended, causing momentary agony to pulsate throughout his entire upper body.

"S-sorry... I... I j-just can't seem t-t-to stop... shaking." Blake rasped, keeping her gaze lowered submissively.

After medical treatments had been administered to everyone, Hoyt grumbled something to himself and went down to the basement. It didn't take very long for his shouts of anger to be heard, upon discovering the partially eaten corpse of the blonde girl he had been "saving for later".

"Fuckin' hell! Now I gotta wait fer the next one to come along! Dammit!" Hoyt snarled, "Them bastards killed and ate the piece of ass I was savin', can you believe this shit?"

"I can't believe you keepin' them street walkers down in the cellar, new one every few weeks. When is ya gunna pick just one nice girl an' settle down like yer nephew?" Luda Mae huffed.

Those two got into a bit of a heated debate, mostly about how Hoyt "grew bored" easily and needed a change of pace every so often. Vex was so different and fiery in spirit, she lasted more than the usual two weeks with him. But still, Blake couldn't help but wonder what horrors Hoyt would subject a woman to if he had one long term. Look at what he had put her through during her time here. Thomas may have been a beast of a man, but he was very kind and gentle towards her, even when she was angry at him or frightened. Eventually, Thomas and Blake both set about cleaning up the "mess" in the living room while Luda Mae fixed up the kitchen as best she could in her current state, Hoyt following after her as he continued his tirade.

Blake began coughing violently again and struggled to keep the bile from rising up in her throat as she scrubbed the viscus, chunky blood off of the floor. She was already drained and it felt as though someone was mercilessly pounding her head in with an invisible sledgehammer. Looking at the bucket of now lukewarm water that had once been clear with white, frothy suds, the girl shuddered as it was now tinted dark, rusty crimson. After ten more minutes of vigorous scrubbing, her body and mind could take no more, leaving Blake to collapse, prostrate and trembling, in the gory muck. A worried growl echoed in Thomas' throat, somewhat muffled by his mask. His girl looked... sick. Gingerly, he lifted her out of the mixture of blood and soapy water and carried Blake upstairs to where he could get her cleaned up and put to bed. She had been through enough for tonight.

TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~

It was shortly after Blake had been completely bathed and dried off did Thomas get a good idea of just what was wrong with her. The uncomfortable warmth from her forehead lingered, long after the gore was washed down the drain, yet the rest of her skin became pale, clammy, and the girl broke out in a fit of cold sweats and shivers. She had a fever, possibly the flu. All the stress and anxiety finally caught up with the girl's poor constitution.

"T-Thomas... d-di-did I make y-you-?" Blake rasped, unable to finish as another fit of coughing and vomiting struck.

'Pretty, nice Blake... just sick.' Thomas growled, in his mind, 'Needs sleep.'

Thinking quickly, he helped Blake sit up, leaning her over the toilet to help minimize the mess. Once it ran it's course, Thomas gave her some water from the sink, allowing her to rinse the foul taste from her mouth. Then he lifted up her shivering form off the mound of towels on the small, bathroom floor and laid Blake on the bed. He couldn't find her nightgown, so instead he slipped one of his (thankfully) clean button down shirts onto her small figure instead. Honestly, it nearly engulfed her, being several sizes too large and nearly coming down to her knees. But just by wearing it, she seemed to calm a little. Maybe it was knowing it was his, or perhaps that his scent covered it. Thomas never had a woman wear his clothes before, but he found himself wishing that it was under better circumstances. He rather liked seeing Blake in his shirt.

Just in case she got sick again, Thomas had the forethought to take the wash basin from the bathroom and put it by Blake's bedside. When he tucked her under the covers, the girl clung tightly to his hand, softly muttering, "P-please... d-don't leave me. T-they're g-going t-t-to find this place... w-we have to g-get out of h-here, T-Thomas..."

The giant of a man looked a little confused at Blake's babbling, but remained calm, carefully brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. She was just frightened after what happened and didn't want to be alone, or at least that's how Thomas reasoned with himself. Gently, he managed to settle Blake down into her bed. The girl still trembled, but it had lessened as she warmed up. Though when Thomas grabbed the old teddy bear off her nightstand to put in bed with her, he couldn't help but notice the open sketchbook next to it. His eyes widened, recognizing the face staring back at him from the paper. Tattooed yet handsome face, shaggy hair very much like his own, and those harsh, cruel eyes. Both halves of the corpse were currently in his basement waiting to be butchered.

But... Blake didn't have time between after the attack and the aftermath to draw this! The only explanation was... she sketched it BEFORE that man showed up to free Vex and attack his family. Thomas put the pieces together; hearing her voice in his head, feeling her pain, and there was even the first day he saw her. When he became painfully shy and had to flee to the safety of the storage room at the 'Last Chance'... she knew his name when Mamma hadn't even said anything! He couldn't have told her, even by mistake. He couldn't speak! But Blake... knew. Somehow.

'Pretty Blake, special.' Thomas grunted to himself, running his hand through the girl's hair before setting the teddy bear in the crook of her arm, 'Actually listen to Thomas. Hears Thomas speak.'

Blake moaned softly, leaning into his affection while clutching the plush bear tightly. Right now, she had been shifting in and out of sleep, but she had been hearing a few of the garbled thoughts running through his head.

'T-Thomas... t-they... t-they c-c-can't... know.' she begged, mentally.

'Thomas not tell. Keep nice, pretty, special Blake safe. Sleep now.' Thomas' gravely, rough voice echoed in her tired mind.

He placed his hand on his chest, where his heart was, before moving it and covering up Blake's heart. Weakly, the girl did her best to return the gesture to him, knowing that it always made the giant of a man happy, regardless of what mood he may have been in. But when Thomas heard footsteps coming down the hall towards his and Blake's room, he closed up the sketchbook, his head looking over his shoulder toward the open door the whole time. As much as he loved his family, the brute didn't want them to know about what Blake could do. She was special and different, like he was. They might not understand, though. What if Uncle Hoyt or Mamma became scared? What if... they ordered him to kill her because of her ability to read his mind? After having her for as long as he had, there would be no way Thomas would harm Blake! For the first time in his life, Thomas actually had someone he could truly TALK too. Someone he dearly loved, no less. His perfect companion.

"Tommy! Ya been up here a while and I was jus-Oh merciful heavens!"

Although watching and waiting, Luda Mae's voice voice still startled Thomas a bit when she came to the doorway and made her way inside. One look, and already the family matriarch could tell that Blake was very ill. A soft, whine mixed with a groan rumbled in Thomas' chest when he stepped aside to let his Mamma through to get a better look. Blake's half-closed, sleepy daze lingered on the brute, until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

"Best ya go an' help yer Uncle Hoyt, now. It's just a fever. Poor child overdid herself fer one day, I reckon." Luda Mae said, firmly but gently, patting her giant son's arm.

As much a he would have rather stayed with Blake, Thomas knew that his Mamma would need some elbow room to work and make his girl all better again. She'd give Blake some medicine, let her sleep, and then she'd be just fine. Without argument, Thomas left the room, though not before leaving a light kiss on the girl's forehead. Luckily, even his Mamma didn't seem to guess that there was something... different about Blake, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Back downstairs, after getting the living room to a reasonable state, Thomas became angrier and angrier the more he thought about Darius. Did that man... make his beloved Blake get sick? Thomas knew Darius had hurt her with that electric prod of his, (something Hoyt had found and decided to claim for himself), beat her, and he looked like he was about to take her. Growing angrier by the second, the massive brute stormed out of the living room, past his bewildered and surprised uncles, before disappearing into his basement.

"Them assholes is dead, but Tommy's still gunna make em pay fer tryin' to steal his girl away from him." Uncle Monty muttered, with a slight chuckle.

Hoyt remained quiet, but deep in thought, idly playing around with the prod in his hand. His plans for tonight had been shot, seeing as BOTH the girls he had been keeping were dead. Unfortunately for him, Luda Mae was upstairs tending Blake, so even with Thomas distracted, that offer was off the table.

"Well shit... wanna just get a beer?" he finally questioned, with a slight gruff.

*Down in the Basement*

Thomas aggressively stomped down the old wooden steps and splashed through the large puddle at the bottom, completely uncaring. Hanging upside down by her ankles over the grimy bathtub was Vex, just as lifeless as she had been when he left her. Her neck was slit open and the remaining blood in her body slowly dripped into the now moderately filled tub. Somehow, the massive brute half expected her to spring to life like one of those scary, dead-but-not-really-dead creatures he had seen once on a movie Hoyt and Monty were watching one time when he was much younger. (Something about that idea always did scare him!)

However, he quickly abandoned those thoughts and childhood fears when he caught sight of Darius' top half on his butcher's block, the lower half just slumped on the dirt floor, partially leaning against it. Thick, viscous blood dripped from the now hollow chest cavity and everywhere else the cultist had been cut. Growling low in his throat, Thomas pulled the flaying knife out from his apron and cut off any remaining clothing in preparation for butchering. At the very least, this man will provide many more meals for the family. Perhaps they'd be able to fill up the freezer in case of hard times.

While stripping the carcass of any clothing and valuables, Thomas came across a gold ring on one of it's fingers, featuring that same goat's head and star symbol that was on those medallions worn by Vex and her group. He remembered hearing some of the things Blake had said to him, that "He'll bring others to attack," and that "They were going to find this place," and that he, and herself, needed to leave. Just who were "they" exactly? A group of them attacked the station, then one of them broke into his home. There was one thing connecting all of this; Blake! Whoever these people were, they wanted HIS girl. Darius and Vex, they were going to steal her away from him! To kill her? Use her because they also knew about what she could do? That must have been why Blake kept it secret, even from him. No wonder she was so afraid!

No matter. These people, regardless of how many, would never steal the best gift he had ever been given! Not without meeting the business end of his chainsaw. Blake was something truly beautiful in his life, unlike himself. His hideous, revolting... self! Hidden behind a mask of leather, concealing the horrors, the scars. Then this man Darius, already charming like many young men that lay on Thomas' butcher's block before him, tried to take Blake away! Called him horrible names and hurt him. Hurt her.

'Pretty Blake, mine!' Thomas mentally seethed, driving his flaying knife right through where Darius' heart would have normally been.

Then something else perked up in Thomas' mind, something Darius had said during their heated fight, "I'll enjoy serving your head to my Lord on a fucking platter and wear your skin as a God damn trophy!"

Curiously, Thomas examined the corpse's face closer. Fair skin, fascinating tattoos, beautiful features. Upon feeling his own masked face, knowing what lurked under there, the beast of a man seethed with jealous rage. But, it dissipated almost as quickly as it came, as an ingenious thought struck Thomas. After all, who was the victor? Rage now turning into excitement, he ripped the knife out of the carcass and started a cut at the bottom of the neck, just to where the skin met with flesh. Of course, Thomas had done skinning many times, but this would have to be his greatest work yet.

He worked cautiously and carefully, working the knife around the cheeks and ears, loosening up the scalp, all while keeping the flayed skin in tact. Once it was loose enough, Thomas peeled the face off in one, large perfect swath, leaving the holes for eyes and lips. Ignoring the rest of the corpse for now, he set about grabbing a spool of cord and heavy duty sewing needle, along with a few sturdy straps of leather. Thomas patched up any tears and imperfections he found, before knocking some old nicknacks and bones out of the way of a severely beat up and dirty mirror, then held the fresh, still bloody skin up to his own face, like a macabre mask. Satisfied, he attached the leather cords, gave the shaggy, blood-matted hair a quick finger comb, then removed his old muzzle and stuffed it into his baggy pants' pocket.

Staring at himself, he grew disgusted with the hole where his nose should have been, a multitude of ugly scars, some from a skin affliction he'd had since he was a child, others self inflicted. Benign bumps, rough, weather beaten skin, he was truly hideous. Ugly. A freak. He just hated being reminded of it. But... not anymore. Now he could know what it would be like to be handsome for once. Without hesitation, Thomas covered up the foul thing that stared back at him through the mirror, fastening the straps of his new mask, adjusting the fit to make sure he's be able to see and eat or drink without having to take it off. The tattoos on the chin and cheeks though... Thomas really liked those. Now, he and Blake matched!

'This is as much for my pretty Blake as it is for me. She is beautiful. Now Thomas can be beautiful for her too.' he thought to himself, with a smile.

As much as he wanted to show her what he'd done, Thomas knew it'd be best to wait until morning. The poor girl was probably sound asleep by this hour. Grunting out a sigh, he got to work once more, chopping up the carcass, packing it in salt or wrapping it up to be taken out to the freezer, which was in the barn. There were still two more, Vex and that girl she and Darius stole from Hoyt, but he figured they'd keep fine until morning. Besides, Thomas just wanted to clean up (mostly for Blake's sake) and get to bed.

On his way up the stairs, the sliding door opened when he was about halfway up. Thomas skidded to a halt and lowered his head, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed and even a little ashamed. Which one of his family was it? What would they say when they saw his new mask? These little details hadn't crossed his mind until just now and he felt terribly self conscious.

"Tommy, whatcha doin' down there still? Ain't ya got any idea what time it is, boy?" Hoyt questioned, from the doorway.

With a slight whimper, Thomas turned away completely. Maybe he should just go back downstairs until everyone was asleep.

"Hey, what's thatcha got on, now?" Hoyt asked, sounding more curious then anything else as he craned his head for a better look.

Slowly, Thomas lifted his gaze towards his uncle, hidden brown eyes filled with fear and his heart pounding in his chest. The last time he could remember feeling this anxious was... the day he met Blake for the first time. His uncle just smiled, taking a swig from the beer bottle in his hand.

"Tommy, I like yer new face," he said, "Gonna show it to the little lady?"

Perking up a little, Thomas nodded. He almost couldn't believe it! Hoyt didn't crack any jokes or say anything mean. His uncle even called it a "new face", not "new mask". Feeling much more confident, Thomas joined Hoyt at the top, in the hallway, sliding the door shut behind him. Chuckling slightly, the brute's uncle patted his back.

"I'm sure she'll like it. Mamma said she got 'er to sleep, but all lil' Blake was askin' for was you, boy."

They parted ways, Hoyt stalking into his room while Thomas found his way to the bedroom he and Blake now shared. The girl was fast asleep, not even moving at the sound of the door being unlocked and opened. Had it not been for the occasional moan and soft sound of her breathing, Thomas would have been afraid that she was dead! A cold, damp rag was placed across her forehead, though extra blankets were wrapped around her frail body, which still shivered. As quietly as he could, Thomas took a quick shower, scrubbing off all the blood and grime from his work. Once clean, he climbed into bed with Blake, completely naked, having never been one for pajamas.

Upon feeling his presence, Blake cuddled up against Thomas' chest, letting out a small, relieved sigh when she was finally comfortable. Lightly, the giant of a man brushed some wet strands of her hair out of her face. When all others wanted nothing to do with him, Blake came to him for comfort. Maybe... he fixed what he had done wrong, or at least made a good start in mending any sort of broken bond between them. With any luck, Blake would be ready again. But Thomas knew he'd have to be patient and take his time with her. She was special, just like himself after all.

'Thomas love you, pretty Blake. Sleep good. Get better.'

*The Next Morning*

All night long, vivid images and dreams whipped through Blake's feverish mind. The dreams were usually more lucid whenever she was sick, something the girl dreaded. Blood. Gore. Vex and Darius' corpses, mutilated by the cruel teeth of the chainsaw's blade. An unanswered question about her beloved father that continued to elude her like a taunt. While some visions passed before her inner eye like static on a TV screen, others lingered and stuck with her. One such dream was of an older schoolyard, perhaps twenty or so years in the past, give or take, very much like a faded photograph. Blake could... feel pain, like she was being beaten up again. A stick to the back, small but sharp rocks to the head, and hearing loud chants of "Ugly freak," "Retard," and "Scar face."

There were several children, at least six of them. Two girls, four boys, roughly ten to twelve years old, and they were all pointing and laughing, spitting their jeering taunts like venom. One thing that stood out to Blake was that... they really had no faces, it was all blank. When she turned away, Blake found herself staring into a murky puddle of water on the ground, but it wasn't her face staring back in the reflexion. It was a boy, around eleven or so years old. Despite his apparently large size for his age, he looked timid, scared. Part of his nose wasn't even there and all around his mouth were fresh cuts and stitches, like the poor child had tried to perform his own corrective surgery and failed. But it was those eyes that gave it all away. At once Blake knew who she was looking at.

"Thomas!?"

With a cough and a moan, Blake suddenly shot awake, shielding her eyes against the morning sunlight with her arm. No longer was she in that schoolyard but back in the bedroom that served as her prison cell, offering little relief. She still felt awful, but it wasn't quite as bad as it had been. Slowly, Blake sat up, startled at first when she didn't see Thomas beside her. Just her cuddly little teddy tucked in the crook of her arm.

'Get a grip, Blake... it's just... Stockholm Syndrome. Nothing more.' she told herself.

But was it really? What about everything that happened? When he took her against her will? The way he cared for her, even killed for her. Blake remembered what happened... she knew that Thomas knew about her abilities! But unlike most would have, he didn't freak out over it. In fact Thomas actually... celebrated it. She had even seen what may have been a glimpse into his past, how cruel people could be too him for no reason other then his appearance. Very much like her friend Jason, in fact. At this moment, Blake couldn't have felt more frightened and conflicted.

She jumped slightly, which caused a momentary coughing fit, when she caught sight of Thomas. He looked like he had just gotten out of bed and dressed for the day, though his back was to her at the moment. Taking a quick glance at her nightstand, Blake noticed something there on top of her sketchbook; a folded up lump of leather that looked a lot like the muzzle-like mask Thomas had always worn.

"T-T- -cough, cough, cough- Thomas?"

At the sound of her small, admittedly weakened voice, Thomas turned around. If it was possible for Blake's skin to loose any more color or for her blood to run colder, it did. Seeing Darius' stretched, stitched up, and distorted face on Thomas' nearly caused a physical reaction, which was more volatile then normal, since a good part of the evening was spent throwing up the days' meals. Those freezing cold shivers returned, lancing up and down Blake's spine and her heart beat rapidly as the brute approached her. The girl curled in on herself and could barely suppress a whimper and her tears.

'Not bad man. Thomas. Still Thomas. Don't be afraid, pretty Blake.' gruffed Thomas' gravelly voice in her mind, 'Bad man had nice skin. Now Thomas' skin. Wanted to be nice for pretty, sweet Blake.' he continued, sitting down on her bedside and patting her shoulder, ever so softly, 'Like?'

He was under the impression that Blake was afraid because of who's face he was wearing, not the fact that he had skinned another human being and decided to wear them as ornamentation! Taking a nervous gulp and fighting to keep the bile from rising in her throat, Blake stayed right where she was, perfectly still as he gently pet her. She wanted to scream and run away, it was truly revolting to behold. But with those stupid chains still locked around her wrists, how far would she really get? Then there was the fact that just getting out of bed would be a chore and a half. So instead, Blake chose her next words with extreme caution.

"Y-y-you -cough, cough-... w-wear it v-v-very well, T-Thomas, -cough, cough, cough-."

It was a loaded complement, not necessarily telling him that she liked it, but Thomas seemed to brighten up at once, shifting himself so he could kneel by her bedside. He gently hugged and cuddled her, to which Blake fought to ignore her instincts to shove him away, kick, and lash out. Though she still squirmed with discomfort. However Thomas figured that it was just because she was sick at the moment.

'Pretty Blake... does hear!' he practically purred, 'Thomas felt pretty Blake's pain, heard kind, sweet voice when Blake far away. Pretty Blake special.'

Before Blake's groggy mind could even come up with any sort of proper answer, Thomas was already opening up her sketchbook, all the while casting suspicious glances at the door. When he got to the page with the sketch of Darius, the brute pointed at it, then to his new face. Remembering something else, Thomas pulled the gold ring and one of the upside down pentagram amulets out of his pocket.

'Who are they?'

It suddenly dawned on Blake; she hadn't really warned Thomas about the Soldiers of Eternal Damnation. She tried telling Luda Mae, but the old bat wasn't having any of it. There was really no point in telling Hoyt or Uncle Monty, but maybe, just maybe, Thomas would listen.

"T-they're m-members of a -cough, cough- d-d-dangerous cult c-c-called t-the Soldiers of -cough- Eternal D-Damnation," Blake answered, "A-and t-they've w-wanted me ever s-since -cough- I-I was little. B-because -cough, cough- o-of w-what I-I c-can do. A-as you w-were clever e-enough to discover."

She was careful to leave certain details out, since there were some demons in her past best left dead and buried. But upon hearing this Thomas began shaking his head and growling low in his throat, however he allowed Blake to continue. The girl took hold of his massive, bear paw-sized hand, her soothing albeit, somewhat clammy touch helping to settle him down.

"F-for t-the longest -cough- t-time, m-my daddy and dogs protected me. I-it's w-why I-I -cough, cough- c-can't stay. I-I'm putting y-you and y-y-your f-family... in danger," she explained, trying to put it in a way he'd understand, "T-they'll come a-and kill y-you're family a-and -cough- t-take me away f-from y-y-you."

The low growl turned into a full blown snarl as Thomas seethed angrily. At first Blake was terrified that she had offended him, but when his deep, brown eyes softened as he looked at her, the young psychic realized that he was angry at the cult and what they were trying to do. Blake belonged to him now, and anyone who tried to take her away from him would be given a permanent reminder that she was his and his alone! Perhaps now she would truly understand why he had to do what he did in order to protect his family.

'Mamma right. Bad, cruel, people out there. But Tommy make promise to protect nice, pretty Blake,' Thomas growled within his mind, 'Here, home now. Not take pretty Blake away, Thomas take their faces instead.'

Blake could feel her stomach churning uncomfortably, but struggled to hold it in. This... hadn't exactly worked out as she originally planned in her head. Then again, could she just blame it on a foggy, sickness wearied mind? Thomas was determined to keep her with him, keep her safe. And he'd already proven his willingness to kill in order to protect her.

'Blake special, like Thomas. Soon, baby will grow. Strengthen family. Blake needs to rest now, get better.'

When the mountain of muscle rested his enormous hand on Blake's stomach, the poor girl couldn't hold it in any longer and vomited, luckily getting it in the basin instead of all over the floor, or Thomas for that matter. Finished with her bout, Blake just flopped back down on her pillows, to exhausted to fight any more for the time being. At least Thomas had the decency to put down the sketchbook and trinkets and get her some water from the small bathroom.

"S-sorry... I-I'm still -cough, cough- sick..."

Blake knew it was only a half truth. Thomas seemed pretty intent on becoming a father, though the young psychic couldn't quite tell if it was what Thomas wanted, or if it was what his overbearing mother wanted. But the thought of being a mother in the best of situations scared Blake, now with the possibility of it happening... out here...?

'No! Stop that. N-nothing happened, i-it d-d-didn't work...' she hissed to herself.

Thomas remained by her side until Luda Mae unlocked the door and showed herself in, carrying with her a steaming cup of herbal tea. She hummed cheerfully to herself, practically gushing over how sweet and gentle her son was being with Blake. After giving the girl a kiss to the forehead, Thomas stood up and grabbed the trinkets off of the nightstand before his Mamma could see what they were, exactly. Any questions she may have had were shot down and replaced, once she got a good look at the face he now sported.

"Oh Tommy... w-what is that? D-did you-?"

When Thomas looked somewhat nervous, Luda Mae just smiled at him, silently praising his creativity.

"That's my sweet boy. Ya wanted to look handsome fer Blake, didn'tcha?"

At once, Thomas nodded eagerly. Blake could only watch, praying that she wouldn't throw up again, as Luda Mae sent Thomas downstairs, reminding him of his chores and letting him know that his breakfast was ready. Sighing happily, the elderly lady turned her attention to Blake and pulled up a chair. Overall, she was a tough old bat, as Luda Mae was recovering quite well from the wounds suffered the night before.

"Think you can keep somethin' down, little one?" she asked, "It's herbal tea, very medicinal. Should help with the cough."

Blake just let out a soft moan in response before her innards answered for her, unleashing another torrent of bile over the edge of the bed. But while there was concern for the girl's poor health in Luda Mae's eyes, there was also a glint of what looked like hope. And this prospect terrified Blake to no end. More then watching a man cut in half with a chainsaw. More then waking up to see Thomas wearing the face of another man. Yet through it all, one nagging little thought poked and clawed at the back of Blake's mind.

'I-I prefer MY Thomas Hewitt...'

Perhaps, that was most terrifying of all.

::To be Continued::

Author's Notes: So, in this chapter, I finally, FINALLY had Thomas claim his first "face". I figure that as a guy with a skin fetish, Tommy might have a thing for tattoos, like finding them on his victims would be an added bonus for him or something. Just a personal theory I have. Geez, writing that out there, that just... *shudders* Then of course, Blake's careful and calculated reaction when she sees it for the first time

Another "breather" chapter as it were, after the excitement of the last one. Thomas also learns about "the cult" and learns more about Blake's abilities. Meanwhile, Blake got a glimpse of the hardships he had faced as a child, being bullied and mocked all because of what he looked like and the fact he was mute.

Anyways, reviews, comments, and the like are much appreciated. Reviews really help me keep going and make the story and inspiration better. (So do favorites/follows!)

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.