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 20: Razor's Edge
Things were a little bit different around the old farm house. Blake wasn't feeling quite as stressed out and upset, since everywhere she went, Toby was right there at her side. Be it doing the dishes, housecleaning, working in the garden, or washing, hanging, and folding up the laundry. She just hoped that the dog wouldn't get too excited during meal times and cooking, as Luda Mae would more then likely put him outside if he was.
Toby stayed nearby Blake all afternoon, waiting patiently for the last of the laundry to be hung out on the line. During the late morning, Thomas disappeared into the barn and hadn't come out in a while, though Blake could tell that he was hard at work with something in there. (Thankfully NOT chopping up human meat.) From what she could hear in his thoughts and occasionally glimpse through Thomas' eyes, she concluded that he may have been working on a handmade crib for their baby.
The girl remained quiet, listening to the sound of Toby's panting and Luda Mae's soft humming while they worked. That's when a startling realization hit Blake... she was getting far too used to this kind of lifestyle! (Well, the old fashioned, minimal technology, backwoods, domesticated house wife part of it anyway. She'd never get used to or accept the relentless murdering.) What would she do if she didn't get out of here before the baby came? How would she even care for it correctly without the proper supplies?
"Didja hear me, darlin'?" Luda Mae questioned, startling Blake from her thoughts.
"Hmmm?" Blake responded, a slightly dazed look in her eyes.
No, she hadn't really heard a darn thing!
"I was tellin' ya that I told Thomas and Hoyt ta keep an eye out fer some specialized supplies when they is out on their patrols," the elderly woman mentioned, with a sweet smile, "Of course, I'll see what I can get stocked at the convenience store, but it won't be long until you gotta be thinkin' 'bout keepin' plenty of diapers, bottles, formula, cleaning rags, and baby toys on hand. And that's just fer a start."
How matter-of-factly she was able to spit all of that out! And Blake knew she'd have very little argument to make, considering the old harpy was right. As much as she had liked children, the psychic wasn't at all prepared for a baby of her own. It was too soon for her, yet it was the hand the girl was dealt so she'd have to learn sooner or later, preferably before trying to soothe a squalling infant. She gave Toby a scratch on the ears, letting out the breath she wasn't even aware she was holding.
"D-don't they have S-Mart f-for those kinds of things, Mrs. Hewitt?" Blake asked, with a half-hearted laugh as she picked up the empty basket.
Luda Mae just chuckled softly, "Only store 'round here is the family station, The Last Chance. Ain't none of those fancy super stores fer miles. That's why we grow our own food and do what we gotta do to survive out here." she explained, "But don'tcha fret none girl, wont do ya no good, no how. We will find a way to make sure you and the baby have everything ya need."
Somehow, that wasn't as comforting as Blake would have liked. She didn't want to use supplies stolen from other people unlucky enough to travel down this stretch of Hell... not that she'd had much of a choice or say in the matter so far. Or of course there was the uncomfortable and unpleasent prospect of cleaning 'reusable diapers'. With a soft whine, Toby glanced up to his mistress, tail wagging slowly.
'How did you do it, dad?' she sighed, mentally.
'Well, to be perfectly honest, kitten... I did have some help from Jack Danial's.'
Just like her dad to say something like that.
"Come on inside now, gittcha cooled down some befer patchen' up the boys' clothes and finishin' them dresses." Luda Mae prattled on, 'Oh... I know it'll look just lovely on her. Sweet lil' thing's glowin' already...'
Blake just sighed heavily, glancing back toward the direction of the road. There it was again. That urge pulling at her. It was fuzzy and hazy, but... there must have been something of great significance down that way.
"Mrs. Hewitt?" Blake asked softly, "W-what exactly... i-is down the road?"
She pointed with her bound hands, curious and hopeful to get a proverbial itch scratched.
"Ya better not be thinkin' 'bout tryin' ta run off again, now. Do ya know how scared Tommy an' I git when ya do that? It's too dangerous fer someone in yer condition and it ain't no big deal," Luda Mae answered, sternly, "Here, right here, is yer place and the only one ya need to worry about."
A disappointed and dejected sigh escaped Blake's mouth, that was until she overheard the old woman's passing thought, 'Ain't no need for her ta be worrin' 'bout that old slaughterhouse... the mess that place caused fer poor Tommy... well, I just never..."
Now, Blake kept up the disappointed facade up, however a small smile crossed her lips. She did her best not to give away that she got the answer she was looking for, and that Luda Mae had no idea. Maybe that's why she was feeling those invisible strings tugging at her. Thomas' old place of work was just down the road a ways. How far exactly? What all had transpired there during the time it was in operation? One answer led to several more questions.
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That night, when it was time to put Toby back into his kennel, Thomas took Blake out to the barn with him, eager to show her what he'd been working on. It was honestly very sweet... yet terrifying at the same time.
"Thomas... y-you're a-a very skilled craftsman," Blake said, as she admired the half-finished baby crib he'd been constructing from scratch out of wood, "I-it's beautiful."
While she was sincere about the thought and effort Thomas had put into it, at the same time, it also held the same appeal as a ball and chain. (Granted, she was already tethered to the house and walked like a dog if she was allowed anywhere past the garden and clotheslines.) Of course, Thomas just grunted happily, hugging Blake to his chest.
'Thinking of pretty Blake, all day. Beautiful, just like Blake, like baby.' Thomas' gravely voice echoed in the girl's mind.
Already Blake could feel his excitement and arousal; she knew exactly what he wanted by the time they got back to the house. Naturally, Thomas still frightened her, but as always, he was exceptionally gentle with the girl. Just as with the night before, he wanted to lie beneath Blake, just so that he could see and caress her easier. This time, Blake found herself hesitating less, but remained none the less shy as she allowed herself to be taken once again.
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That night, Blake had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep. At first, her thoughts from the day before swirled around in her mind. She could hear an infant's wanting cry echoing in her ears, however, as Blake tried to find the poor child in the hazy dreamscape, she came across... something else.
Hard, concrete floors. Blood, long dried and fresh. The heavy scent of death and the sound of flesh and bone being sliced by cruel, sharpened steel. Her mind began to spin, fearful at first that perhaps the Dream Demon had returned to pay her a visit, yet she couldn't sense him anywhere. Nope... this was all her.
When her eyes opened again, Blake felt that steadily familiar sense of being... taller, though her vision was partially obscured by the thick, sweat-drenched long dark hair covering her eyes. Breathing felt... funny, uncomfortably warm. In front of her was a large, industrial cutting board. On it, several cuts of beef, which she could feel herself cutting and slicing through at a rapid rate, every swing of the meat cleaver expertly separating the different cuts to be sent off to packaging stations.
'I'm dreaming again...' Blake whispered to herself, 'This is where he used to work.'
From behind her, Blake could hear snorts of laughter and low muttering. Other meat plant workers could be seen staring at Thomas' massive, hulking form. Some making deliveries of freshly slaughtered critters for him to butcher without a word. Others making snide comments and laughing.
"Big, dumb animal. It's all he's good for."
"He better be careful, or he'll be mistaken for a side of beef."
"-snort- That or he runs out of animals to butcher, then he'll start swinging that meat cleaver at himself."
All throughout this, as the days rapidly changed and Blake felt herself in Thomas' shoes, partaking in the same mundane actions in uncomfortably hot and humid conditions, the psychic could feel his sadness and rage building. He was a good, strong worker. Sure, he may have never spoken a word, but he never fussed, always did what was asked of him, and when left to his own devices without the jeers of his coworkers, Thomas found a strange sense of solace here. He finally had one thing he was very skilled at and turned it into mastery. But it was the people. Those that knew nothing about him or his family, the ones that taunted and mocked him for his inability to speak, his deformities, and massive size, always treating him like a big dumb animal... they ruined everything... they took everything from him.
Feeling a lurch in her stomach and returning to her normal height and self, Blake took a look around. The equipment was covered in rust and rather dusty from years of neglect. Pieces of roof were missing completely, chunks of it on the concrete floor. A heavy smell hung in the air, that of decay. Stagnant puddles had collected on the ground or in the over clogged drains, perfect for breeding mosquitoes and other miniature beasties. Looking at the old slaughterhouse now... it was long abandoned and held a VERY spooky feel to it.
Blake explored a little longer, growing more and more uneasy in this place. After passing by some of the pens were animals were kept, awaiting slaughter, and a few vats containing highly unsanitary water mixed with blood, she couldn't help but notice something. Movement. However, as she slunk forward, trying not to make a sound, the entire building began to collapse and fade, the world around her turning a stagnant bright white. She was beginning to wake up.
'No, no... I need a few more minutes... just a few more minutes.' she pleaded.
The girl reached out, trying to grab onto an old hand railing, only to have it fade to dust. She needed to stay here, to learn about why her dreams led her to this place, but Blake could feel herself steadily slipping away, out of the realm of dreams and back into the waking nightmare of the real world.
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Blake didn't want to wake up, she wanted to fall back asleep so that she could further explore that abandoned slaughterhouse. Find out the deepest, darkest secrets. Alas, the girl stirred, letting out a faint moan. She could feel something, or rather someone next to her. It was warm, comforting, and large hands caressed her body from on top of the sheets. At first, Blake just thought it was Thomas coaxing her out of a sleepy fog. But... it wasn't quite right.
The touch, the feel... the thoughts... none of them were Thomas'! Blake's previous, comfortable bliss quickly turned into panic as her eyes snapped open. Heart pounding rapidly in her chest, the girl could smell the reek of stale beer and tobacco chew, then felt someone kiss her neck. Thomas... didn't have a mustache either... but she knew who did!
"Tho-mph!"
Before she could call for help, Hoyt's hand clamped over Blake's mouth. When she tried to jab her elbow into the disgusting man's ribs, he was prepared for it and caught her, wrapping his other arm around her in such a way that he had her arms pinned. With his leg up over hers, Hoyt had the startled girl effectivly restrained. To Blake's horror, Thomas was nowhere to be found!
"None of that now, little darlin'," Hoyt hissed, in her ear, "Yer gonna... answer a few things fer me, now..."
'Ain't got much time before the boy gits back with that stupid fuckin' mutt, gotta make this quick.'
Somehow, Blake had a sinking feeling that it wasn't just about his questions about the cultists he and Thomas slaughtered a couple days back. Ever since she was "given" to Thomas, Hoyt had an unhealthy obsession with her. She knew he resented Thomas; that his large, deformed nephew was gifted such a pretty little wife that was proudly displayed to the rest of their family and friends while his toys had to be locked away in the barn or basement.
"I suspect," Hoyt paused for a moment to take a hard nip at Blake's ear, causing her to wince and squeal in pain, "That ya wasn't givin' me the whole truth yesterday."
Blake tried to cry out and kick, only for Hoyt to twist one of her wrists. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he bent her neck back in order to look at him. Should the girl move the wrong way, Hoyt could have easily broken it.
"Stop this shit, now! I ain't got time fer it, girlie!" the false sheriff hissed, groping over Blake as much as he could, "Normally I like to git 'em wet first, slides in easier, but time is limited. So we is gonna do both at the same time."
'Already naked. That's good. Must've given Tommy on hell of a good time. If the boy's kept her this long, she must be a good, tight little fuck.'
Disgusted by his thoughts, his groping, Blake's mind reached out, desperately trying to find Thomas. Where was he?! Why didn't he wake her up when he got up? Perhaps it was because she was in such a deep sleep he didn't want to wake her. Not that any of that mattered now. With some difficultly, Hoyt forced Blake into a position where he would be able to enter her, and the hard bulge she felt brushing up against her bare rear end was sign enough of what the disgusting man wanted to do with her.
"I'ma need both hands, so ya keep quiet," Hoyt growled, "Or yer other mutt is good as dead. Now," he continued, positioning himself, "Just who is this 'Honored Mother'? Ya know 'er? She a good fuck like you?"
Blake trembled, not just with fear, but with anger as well. Her fists clenched tightly and she remained quiet, her vision leaving the confines of the room and instead becoming the darkened stairway. It felt as though there was something clenched in a now large hand, speed picked up, and a low, deep, angry growl. As soon as her sight turned to the door, Blake left Thomas' eyes, panting heavily.
Before Hoyt could do anything more to the girl, the bedroom door suddenly flung open. A breath caught in the false sheriff's throat as Thomas stood there in the doorway, tensed up and fists clenched in absolute fury. But at his side was Toby, the German Shepherd's hackles raised and teeth bared in a threatening display. Apparently, all Thomas wanted to do, since he woke up early, was to surprise Blake by bringing her Toby, freshly groomed, up to their room first thing in the morning. He did not expect to find... this.
"N-now boy... t-this ain't what it looks like..." Hoyt explained, clearing his now very dry throat as he slowly shifted, discretely tucking in his shirt as he did.
Of course, Blake hearing the mantra of foul words flooding through his mind all at once told a different story. Hoyt knew he was busted, now he was just going to try and squirm and B.S. his way out of trouble. (A feat which, he had sadly honed into an art form.)
"T-Thomas!" Blake cried out, only to have Hoyt plaster his hand over her mouth again.
"S-shut up, now! I saw what you was tryin' ta do!" her captor hissed at her, before glancing up to Thomas.
Now Thomas was approaching, furious that his uncle was hurting Blake in such a way, 'MY pretty Blake! MINE!'
"Tommy! I-I was lookin' out fer ya, boy," Hoyt explained, revealing something he had managed to slip into his other hand.
At once, Blake recognized them as the makeshift lock picks she'd made for herself a while back, the ones that were confiscated after her last failed escape attempt. That sly bastard kept them!
"S-she was gonna try an' run off again, see? B-but I stopped her and held her here fer ya."
Thomas still continued to growl, as did Toby. He looked like as though he wanted to believe that his uncle was telling him the truth, but he really knew there was something much more sinister going on.
'He's lying, Thomas! I woke up w-with Hoyt t-touching m-me... t-trying t-to rape me!' Blake pleaded, mentally.
For a moment, Thomas looked as though he might give his foul uncle the brutal pummeling he justly deserved. (Then again, the angry German Shepherd at his feet would have easily beaten him to the punch.) Slowly, Hoyt dislodged himself from Blake, showing Thomas the "discovered" lock picks he'd "caught" Blake trying to use as proof that there was no funny business going on between them.
"Ya-ya know, Tommy... yer girl tryin' to escape means t-that that dog's gotta be locked up in the barn, now," Hoyt mentioned, with a slight smirk directed at the girl.
Luckily, Thomas knew better. Instead he came to Blake's bedside, making sure that his girl was covered up from Hoyt's prying eyes as he handed her Toby's leash. The dog put his front paws up on the bed, grateful for a scratch behind the ear from his mistress. However, when Hoyt tried to enforce his rule by force, Toby snarled and snapped his jaws the man's hand while Thomas grumbled loud and deep in his chest.
"I-if t-that animal bites m-me... t-then back outside in the barn i-it goes fer good!" Hoyt growled, backing away from the angry German Shepherd.
"Better m-make sure Jason's kennel is habitable..." Blake said, with a sour tone, "Uncle..."
Now it was Hoyt's turn to swallow a painfully dry lump in HIS throat, "A-and w-why's that, now, girlie?"
"Because... I have a strong feeling that's where you'll be staying if Luda Mae finds out about this," answered Blake, as she leveled her mismatched gaze into a fierce glare, "Y-you could have e-endangered her grandchild, see... a-and she's told y-you before... I'm Thomas'. O-of course... she doesn't need to know, so long as Toby stays."
In response, the massive brute knelt down, rubbing his wife's belly possessively. Obviously, Thomas would overlook his uncle's transgression... again, seeing as he wasn't trying to make him a permanent part of the wooden floors right this second.
'Toby good dog. Protect pretty Blake and baby. Good dog stays.' Thomas gruffed, within his mind.
As for Hoyt, he quivered for a moment, but the last thing he needed was for a great big can of worms to be opened... again! Especially with bigger, more important matters going on. The last thing the family needed was infighting, especially with the possibility of those robed, devil worshiping freaks marching up to their front door any given day!
'Fucking little bitch! Tommy needs to put her in her place!' Hoyt hissed to himself, as he stormed out of the bedroom, throwing up his arms in defeat.
It was another round against Hoyt won, but Blake knew it wouldn't be the last time she'd have to play this game with him. Gently, Thomas nuzzled against the girl, looking her over and making sure that she was unharmed. His heart still thundered in his chest and when he cupped Blake's cheek to have her look up at him, there was genuine worry in his eyes, seeing as his special girl had tried to run away multiple times before.
'Not leave Thomas. Not run away... not safe for pretty Blake and baby.' Pleaded the massive brute, as he hugged Blake close to him.
"I-I promise y-you, Thomas... I-I wasn't trying t-to run away," Blake explained, "Hoyt... m-must have kept those, as a cover i-in case you walked in. I-I woke up with h-him in bed beside m-me... w-wanting to-to do-Thomas... I-I'm not safe here."
'Here... home. Thomas, Toby, keep pretty Blake safe.'
With a firm grunt, Thomas pointed down at the floor. This was the only home, and the only way of life, he knew and understood. Blake sighed again, leaning against the brute's broad chest while one arm managed to snake out of his grasp to pet Toby.
"I... I know of... another place w-we could call home. I-it would be j-just me, y-you, Toby... a-and the baby." she mentioned, trying to drop it casually, though her nervous stutter clearly gave it away.
Thomas only grunted in response, but there was a bit of a nervous tone to it. Perhaps it was too much for Thomas, too soon. Yet at the same time, she could tell he wasn't entirely happy. Thomas didn't like the way his uncle treated her, like she was one of the pieces of meat they kept locked up in the basement. In all honesty, he was hoping that by bringing Toby into the house to stay with Blake, Hoyt would quit his advances and peace could be restored so they could get back to what passed for normal around the house. Plus, there was the much bigger outside threat to worry about now!
'More dangerous... away from family.' was Thomas' final answer, followed up with a kiss to her forehead and gentle hug.
"Somehow... I knew you'd say that." Blake sighed, in defeat.
*Sometime Later, in the Evening*
While the morning may have begun somewhat rough, the rest of the day went pretty much as expected. Cooking breakfast, house chores, fix lunch, more chores, trying not to think about what Hoyt was up to in the basement. (Okay, so that was mostly Blake, but at times she would prefer not to know what as going through some peoples' heads!) The only thing that made it easier was having Toby accompanying her through it all.
Blake sat in an armchair in the living room with Toby curled up at her feet, just keeping her head down and mouth shut. Luda Mae was seated next to her, inspecting the baby gown Blake just finished before getting her started on her second. Of course there was Uncle Monty, snoring away on the couch, wheelchair parked nearby. Meanwhile, Thomas had vanished into the basement alongside Hoyt, doing God only knows what in there.
However, the young psychic felt an urge to set down her sewing work and pick up her sketchbook instead. (Now that she thought about it, Thomas seemed rather adamant that Blake have her sketchbook and pencils, as he brought them for her before disappearing down into the basement.) At least the old bat she was forced to share her company with didn't say anything about it, though Blake could still hear her thoughts.
'Still worried about that poor child. She's just so small. I don't wanna... but she may need help.'
By 'help', she meant force feeding. Force feeding human flesh to be exact. Come to think of it, there was a shortage of "safe" alternate protean choices at dinner. As if they were trying to guilt and corner Blake into eating human meat like the rest of them. She was so consumed by that thought, it took Blake a little bit to realize that her pencil tip needed sharpening and she finally looked down at what she'd drawn.
'Lee Bros. Meats?' Blake muttered to herself.
It was an old, dilapidated building, very much the same outline as what she'd drawn in the dirt and even her breakfast the day before. A lot... like the place she'd visited in her dream. There was something about Thomas' old place of work that held some significance, but what, she didn't know for sure. And the fact that the answer eluded her so was about to drive her up the wall.
As she pondered what it could possibly mean, Blake's vision faded, only for a fleeting moment. Not completely mind you, it just became a lot darker. She recognized what she was seeing, smelling even. It took a lot of self restraint not to gag or cough from the stench. This was the basement, and once again, Blake found herself tapping into the world through Thomas' eyes. His glance shifted, and Blake could hear a pained, muffled squealing. There was a sight she could have done without, Hoyt with his pants down to about his knees, forcing Kaylie to perform oral on him.
"See this here, Tommy? Feels good," Hoyt smirked, taking a sip from the beer in his free hand, "Hard fer a bitch to run her mouth when yer dick's in it. Got yer girl to do it fer ya yet? She's yers, ya can always make her do it when ya feel like it."
He just snickered as Thomas groaned. The beast of a man rolled his eyes with indifference and returned to the task at hand; sorting through his morbid collection of faces, fixing any that were tearing or rotting. Taking inventory of thread, cord, needles along with sharpening his flaying and butcher knives. Shortly after Hoyt unleashed his forced load in his poor captive's mouth, causing her to cough and gag, he roughly manhandled her up against the table where Thomas was working. Of course, the massive brute let out an annoyed growl as his work was interrupted and a few sharp blades fell from their pegs on the wall. While Blake felt for the poor girl, she tried focusing more on what was around Thomas at that moment. Feeling bad wasn't going to help Kaylie... but one of the small razor blades that just scattered on the filthy wooden table might!
'Alright, let's see if we can do this again.' Blake whispered, as she did her best to relax.
Right now, Hoyt was too busy getting his rocks off to really pay attention to much going on around him. And while Kaylie's screams practically tugged and tore at Blake's heart strings, the girl had to focus on the task at hand.
"Boy... you ever -oh yeah- considered... bendin' that girl of yers over... and -ahhhh- gittin' her up the ass?" Hoyt questioned, with a laugh before slapping Kaylie on her rear, causing her to yelp in pain.
It was obvious that the poor girl was in agony as Hoyt roughly forced himself upon her. Though there was one tiny thread of silver lining. Kaylie's hands were bound in front of her, resting on the table she was shoved into while her captor mercilessly pounded into her flesh. She was close to Thomas... and the fallen knives and razors. So, while Hoyt busied himself, he failed to notice when Thomas slipped into a bit of a trance, hiding one, small razor in his bear-paw of a hand, and slowly slid it toward Kaylie.
Another yelp escaped Kaylie's mouth as she was violently shoved against the gritty, old wood and Hoyt squirted his essence into her rectum. But despite the humiliation, she grabbed for the razor, hiding the tiny blade in her balled up fists, casting a pained and uncertain, tear-riddled glance up to the menacing giant beside her. This was the same man that she witnessed chop her friends to pieces, who foiled her escape attempt when Blake tried to set her free. Needless to say, she was quite confused but smart enough to say nothing.
"And that's how ya do it, boy..." Hoyt snorted, giving Kaylie another slap for good measure, "Back on the shelf with you, lil' darlin'..."
Blake could feel a slight sense of hope fill her, even as she witnessed Hoyt shove a gag in the poor girl's mouth and bind her to the meat hook by her wrists. At least now she had another shot at escape. But, before Blake could see anything more, she snapped out of her own trance, glancing around and looking somewhat disoriented when she saw herself back in the living room with Luda Mae and Uncle Monty.
"Blake, what's the matter, sweetie?" Luda Mae asked, "Didja hear me?"
"Huh? Ummmm... n-no, I-I didn't quite catch that..." Blake said, her voice sounding like she was a little spaced out.
She reached down, scratching Toby's ears as she closed up her sketchbook, doing her best to act natural. Luda Mae just smiled, thinking that Blake's zoning in and out just had to do with her current condition. With a slight grunt, she moved from her chair, setting aside her needlework, and approached Blake.
"I was just askin' if ya needed anythin'. This is a critical time fer ya, darlin'. Ya need lookin' after," the elderly woman stated, taking a feel of Blake's midsection, "Ya sure show early on. I'm worried that ya ain't got nuff meat on them frail bones of yers."
Blake gave a slight frown, knowing what Luda Mae was doing, and she wasn't about to bite either. Besides, it was getting late. Thomas and Hoyt would be up soon. Though, this left Blake wondering if she was truly doing the right thing. Should Kaylie break free and get a hold of the police, a backwoods militia, or even a posse of cowboys, what would that do to Thomas? A lot of people could end up dying, Thomas included. Or arrested, probably split up the family in prisons and various mental institutes for the criminally insane. That, or Kaylie might just sneak out and never tell a soul about any of this. There was also the very real chance that she'd never get out, that Hoyt and/or Thomas would catch her and possibly kill her.
'You did what you had to do, kitten. Not much more can be done then that.' Tobias' gentle, fatherly voice echoed in her mind.
The girl managed a small smile. Maybe if anything, she'd be able to vouch for Thomas and get him an easier sentence, since he never asked to be this way, he was raised in it. She jumped a little, hearing the sliding metal door slam open, then shut just as quickly. Heavy footsteps pounded against the creaky wooden floors, and in strode Thomas, thankfully free of blood. He grunted happily, kneeling down beside Blake, nuzzling against her and putting his hand over her belly. Luda Mae just sighed happily, rubbing her massive son's shoulders.
"This family is truly blessed. Ain't nothin' gonna tear us apart."
Oh... If only she knew...
::To be Continued::
Author's Notes: And here's chapter 20! The Grand Finale hasn't even quite started yet but it'll be a doozy when it gets here!
Couldn't help myself with that little "S-Mart" reference. (Hey, I've already dropped a hint in a much earlier chapter that Blake knows Ash Williams.) But, she's got some very genuine and reasonable baby fears, I'll admit. Imagine if it were you out there and you were told, "No hospitals, no drugs or sanitation, you're just going to give birth somewhere inside the house! Oh, and we'll scrape together what supplies we can for ya to make it work!" Yeah... fucking terrifying if you ask me.
And now another interesting play in the dreamscape has been made, seeing Thomas in his old place of work, but just... who was in there with her if it wasn't the dream demon? Strange powers are stirring and it's going to reach a boiling point.
In particular, I loved Blake playing hardball with Hoyt. She's learning how to subtly play this deranged family against each other without spilling a single drop of blood! And what of the poor girl trapped in the basement? Next chapter... Hehehe!
I know, I know, it used to be like, a new chapter a week, and now it's like a new chapter every 2 or so weeks. I apologize, but it's getting to that time of year where everything is busier because of the holidays AND I have had several doctor's and dentist appointments going on that I've been TERRIBLY overdue for. (That, and I've been taking a serious nostalgia trip since the original Gold/Silver Pokémon games were re-released on the 3DS virtual console.)
Anyways, Favorites and Follows make me very happy and Reviews and PMs are like my coffee. Seriously, when I get some messages about my stories, it's like instant inspiration!
Disclaimer:: I do not claim to own The Texas Chainsaw Massacre/Nightmare on Elm Street or any of it's characters. The references to Jason Voorhees and Lisa Voorhees are from Lady_Vorrhees' story, The Strange Good Girl.