Notes
I'm going off wikihow for the stab wound tending, so if it's inaccurate I'm sorry. Wiki said it'd hurt, but when I looked up what saline felt like, it said it shouldn't. Very confusing there, so I went middle of the road. Also guys I promise this is an eventual romance despite the warnings- those are related to Ruby's backstory for this version of her. I might be going overboard with them but I'd rather be safe than sorry. [Also if you're reading Is It Really Gold-Digging If He Hands You The Pickaxe?, her backstory is almost identical in that fic. Only difference is what happened after she left the hospital] CW: kidnapping, violence towards a child [13 Year Old], cannibalism (both consensual and non/dubious consent), body/eye horror, domestic abuse mention/implication, drugged drink, emetophobia
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Ruby had half expected Brahms to pass out as she got him out of the car, and it's the only reason she didn't drop him when he did.
Even so, she still staggers for a moment before she's able to adjust, nudging the towel he'd dropped to one side as she slowly moved towards the front door and laid him on the couch for the moment, carefully removing his broken mask and checking his wound.
It had thankfully stopped bleeding, though she can't be sure when it did. Humming softly, she tosses it onto the coffee table and heads back outside, locking up her car and bringing the discarded towel and Brahms's bag in, setting the bag by the door as she shuts and locks it, before turning lights on as she heads to the bathroom for her first aid supplies, tossing the towel in the hamper as she goes.
This wasn't going to be fun for either of them, but it had to be done, whether he was awake or not.
Though given she'd just heard a groan from the main room, it seemed like he had the unfortunate luck of waking up.
For a moment, Brahms wasn't sure where he was. It was comfortable, and warm in a way home never had been.
Forcing his eyes open, he found himself staring up at a ceiling that was painted like the sky at twilight- pinks and purples and oranges, and when he turns his head he can see the colors continue down one wall to where a wall light has been placed in just the right spot to look like a setting sun, the lower half of the wall painted with a darkened field of flowers, deep blues and blacks with sprinkles of muted, almost faded color.
Before he can look around the rest of the room, or figure out where his mask had gone when he realizes it is, his view of the wall is blocked by a cropped NASA sweatshirt and a bare freckled stomach, the angle allowing him to see the edge of Ruby's electric blue bra.
"Right, I was hoping you'd still be out for this" she mutters softly, biting her lower lip when he tilts his head to look up at her. "This is going to hurt like a bitch and for that I'm sorry"
She seems to consider something for a moment, before she pulls a table closer and drops everything she'd gathered onto it and does the last thing he expected- she climbs onto the couch, straddling his legs just below his hips before she pushes his shirt up and out of the way.
"Sorry for this part, too- it's just the best way I could think of to do this right now." She gives a soft smile, leaning towards the table to grab a pair of gloves.
"Okay. We need to clean out that wound, and that means flushing it with saline. I need you to brace yourself, ok? It's going to hurt like hell so feel free to scream, swear, cry, whatever you need." As she speaks, she pulls the gloves on- thankfully without the sharp snap doctors and nurses had seemed to favor- and grabs a clean dish towel and bottle, likely the saline she mentioned.
He didn't like the sound of that one bit, but he grits his teeth and nods, watching as she leans down just a bit to rest the folded towel directly below his wound, the bottle uncapped and in her other hand.
"Okay, three….two…..one."
He'd been about to tell her to wait when she tips the bottle, the liquid inside making the wound hurt like hell. He screams, attempting to shove himself up to sit up and push her away, only for her to drop the bottle and brace a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to back down to stay still.
"I know, I'm sorry. If I could make this hurt less I would, I promise." She swallows hard, her eyes meeting his again- the guilt he sees in them reinforces her words. "I'm pretty sure I said every curse word I knew- in English and French- when they did this to me. It was almost funny to see their shocked looks…"
He latches onto her words, focusing on them and her voice. Anything to avoid thinking about the pain. "How'd you end up stabbed?"
She freezes for a moment, before she gently pats the wound with a clean corner of the towel, flecks of rust and a small trickle of blood clinging to the material in the spot that had been under the wound.
"It's not a good story…and you might already know it, if you were following the news twelve years ago. They couldn't give details- too graphic, especially since I was a minor- but they printed the basics of what had happened." She doesn't look at him as she speaks, picking up the bottle again to do a second rinse.
"Tell me anyways?" He all but begs, moving one hand to grasp her wrist- it's the best he can do with both her hands occupied. "To distract me?"
He thinks she'll say no, but after a moment, she nods, gently pulling her wrist from his grip.
She doesn't seem to mind when he lets it drop to grip her thigh instead.
Ruby didn't know why she was letting Brahms persuade her to talk about this- she never talked about it once she finished therapy and the reporters had decided to stop hounding her for interviews as the 'lone survivor of a crazed serial killer'.
They had stopped when she'd threatened to go into detail on live TV, the only thing stopping her the idea that someone watching might be traumatized by her story.
"...When I was 13, my mother had just left. Dad had never treated either of well, though it was usually just…words. Nothing that left visible damage or could be used against him in the divorce, though honestly I doubt they'd have fought for custody. Neither of them really wanted a kid, I'd been….unexpected."
As she speaks, she slowly tips the bottle again, making sure less flows across the stab than before and feeling pleased when there's only two rust flecks. She can feel Brahms tense under her, a hiss escaping as his grip on her thigh tightens, but he stays mostly still. After a moment, he lets out a breath and gives a nod, prompting her to continue as his grip relaxes again.
"I was a little naïve back then, would think any day I'd get home from school and she'd be there to pick me up, or that any time the office called it was them calling me down to leave because she'd come to get me. She never did, of course…but then on the last day before summer break, when I was heading leaving, there was a woman who knew my name and said she was my mom's friend from Paris, that she was there to pick me up so I wouldn't travel alone." She shakes her head, scoffing softly. "Kidnapping 101, use their name and say you're 'a friend of their parents'. I was so excited to be going to mom that I failed to realize she knew my name because another student had called out to me to ask something, and I'd responded."
Satisfied the stab was clean enough for now when a third rinse cones out entirely clean, she caps the bottle and sets it on the table, picking up the tube of glue- only to think better of it, setting it back down. Between not being positive the wound was clean- despite the rinse hinting at that, and the amount of body hair he had, this option seemed like a bad one.
"So I went with her, without question. I accepted the soda she offered me, thinking it was safe because it was unopened…but it wasn't. Safe, I mean…by the time I realized something was wrong, it was too late. I passed out, and when I woke up I was in her basement. I didn't leave for ten months, though I didn't know it had been that long until later, when I was in the hospital and it became a scandal that my father never reported me missing in all that time- it'd been a teacher who did, when I didn't show up at school that fall."
She doesn't look up as she got off the couch and propped him up with pillows, having him hold a square of gauze against the wound so she could loosely loop bandages around his torso to hold it in place.
"...What happened? In those ten months?"
There's no need to continue if she doesn't want to- he's patched up, and she's got him settled on the couch for now.
But it feels good, in a way, to tell someone who hasn't been hired in one way or another to listen. Maybe that was why people did group therapy.
"I don't remember most of the details…and the ones I do remember are mostly graphic. Are you sure you want to know?"
"I doubt it'll bother me. I'm a killer, remember?" He comments almost dryly, and she rolls her eyes, giving a weak laugh.
"Nowhere near as cruel as she was." Tugging the gloves off and dropping them on the coffee table, she grabs two blankets from a basket by the couch- dropping one over him and wrapping herself in the other so that only her face was visible as she sits on a nearby armchair.
"If you need me to stop at any point- just say 'stop', ok?"
"You're really worried about that aren't you?" He questions, slowly shifting to settle into the pillows propping him up.
"Yes." She replies simply. "These memories almost make me vomit- it's only fair I give a warning before I continue."
Even with Ruby's warning, Brahms doesn't expect it to be that bad- girls are fragile and boys are strong, right? That's what his mother had always said to him growing up.
He doesn't like being wrong- especially this time.
"It started out small- she'd slice my arms or legs, eventually seeing how deep a cut she could do before I passed out from the pain. Quite honestly, I have no idea how I didn't die from shock, since at one point she cut down to the bone. I must've had someone very strong looking out for me." Ruby starts, her eyes a little unfocused as if she were seeing these things happen again. "She'd taunt me often, stand over me and eat something- that happened so often it's almost like one of those illusions, the one with the bumpy plastic that sounded awful if you ran your nails over it and would show different images when you tilted it- the food she was eating changing every moment. Sandwiches, pizza, salads, cupcakes, crackers, cheese…but the worst was the meat."
She pauses, as if expecting him to tell her to stop already, but he doesn't. What could possibly be so bad about meat?
"Are you a vegetarian then?" It's the only explanation he can think of that would make sense, but even then- she doesn't seem like the sort one of his rejected nannies had been, refusing to even be in the same room as someone eating meat that wasn't plant based.
He'd sent her away by the end of her first day.
Her eyes refocus on him again, and she shakes her head. "No. Sometimes I can't stand the idea of eating meat, and I never eat veal anymore…but I eat other meats when memories aren't too close."
She hesitates, before she continues. "After I think a month of this, she made a deal with me. If I ate the meat she prepared for me, and didn't throw it up, I could have all the water I wanted for a week. Up until that point, she'd been giving me just enough to stay alive and not become skin and bones." He can see her grip on the blanket tighten at that, pulling it just a little bit more closed. "I knew something was wrong, but you don't know the desperation that comes from being unable to drink enough- at least, I hope you don't know. So, I agreed."
She stops, and in that moment he wishes she was still on the couch, close enough to touch. But she's not.
"Do you want me to stop?" Those big green eyes meet his again, and in that moment he knows- she's not only met true evil, she's been forced to dance to the song evil sung.
"No. I just want you to be close"
She's quiet, before she nods, moving to sit just within his reach, carefully tucking her legs to the side opposite him.
"...Where was I?" She asks once they're settled.
"You agreed to eat the meat she prepared." He pauses, before he adds "Did…she ever tell you her name? It feels odd to just say 'her'"
"She did. She said her name was 'Gummi'- though once I was in her basement she told me she was known as 'The Blind Shephard' in America, where she was from. She'd come here because she was worried they were close to catching her." She smiles without humor. "Stupid fucking name, isn't it? Who has a daughter and goes 'ah yes, I shall name her Gummi!"
"It is a stupid name" He agrees, though he has a sinking feeling she's avoiding continuing for a good reason- though maybe that was his fault. He'd been the one to ask another question, after all.
"So…I made the deal with Gummi. The first time, she let me have some water first and between bites, so I wouldn't choke. But…she made me watch as she cut away part of my leg and cooked it up, plated it, and handed it to me to eat. I barely managed the first time, and a few times in the remaining months I did throw up. I think…by the end of it, she was pissed I wasn't more…open to it, that I still dreaded it…so she planned to kill me."
The word 'stop' is on his tongue, the revulsion he feels at what she's telling him enough to turn even the strongest stomach. But he can't find his voice, can only imagine the younger her choking down the prepared meal to enable herself to survive.
"Only one more memory of the basement- do you want me to stop?" Ruby softly asks, watching him- those eyes that see everything watching him for…what? Discomfort, nausea, revulsion…? He had them all, but he forces himself to shake his head. There's only one more, how bad can it be?
"Are you sure? It's one of the worst."
"Worse than being forced to eat your own legs?"
"Yes. At least, I think it is. Eating only caused psychological damage, since she'd have cut me up to eat regardless. The last memory caused physical damage too."
"...what sort of physical damage?" He almost knows the answer, but nothing could have prepared him for her to work a hand free of the blankets, tapping her temple by her eye.
"Oh. I think….I need to stop. I can guess the rest easily enough now"
"Okay. I'm sorry, I know this is…a lot to hear, all at once. I should have stopped sooner" The hand vanishes back under the blankets, and she gives a weak smile.
"How could you know? I didn't tell you to"
"Even so- I should have known"
Not me thinking this would be a long chapter because I was writing on my phone, for it to only be like 2k words lmao. I do want to try having longer chapters tho! It's just hard on mobile to tell. Gummi was an oc I had back when I was like 14-16, when the idea of having a murderer oc was an interesting one. She started off as a hit woman and then kinda evolved into what she is now after her father (who taught her everything she knew) died. I haven't used her in like 14 years and then when I do, it's to canonically kill her off-screen. RIP Gummi, I forgot about you till I brought back Ragdoll!Ruby.
This version of Cyborg Ruby [also known as Ragdoll Ruby] is slightly different from the one in Is It Gold-Digging If He Hands You The Pickaxe? in that she never met Raine, didn't start living/working in the bakery, and instead has a cottage in the woods just outside of town.