My Beautiful Doll
Warning: Creepy vibes from the resident serial killer. Mentions of a dead body.
A/N: Eyo! Today's posting is sponsored by the early morning gang because I was too excited to wait until later on to post this. So once more, I'm putting this out before I go to uni. Also, this chapter is betaed by the wonderful Destructive Wisdom over at AO3. If you love Dragon Age Origins with OCs, go check out her fanfic. One last thing you guys need to know, as soon as my beta finished reading this chapter, the first message she sent me was:
"you sick fuck".
So...if that's not indicative of the shit that's going to go down right now, I don't know what is. Anways, have fun and have a nice day!
Don groaned as he started to rouse, his head pounding heavily within his skull. What the hell happened? He felt like he just out drank an entire bar full of people, something that he promised himself he'll never do again. Cracking an eye open, he almost did a double take at what he saw.
Where the hell am I?
This definitely wasn't his room at the Craftsman or his apartment. The room felt cold despite the blanket that covered him, the warm yellows and browns seemingly serve as a multicoloured warning sign. Shaking his head, he gingerly got up, leaning onto the bedside table for support. Looking around, he realized that he was in an unfamiliar bedroom, unremarkable despite the chill that somehow started to seep in. There was a large cupboard, a table with a few things on top, a white carpet, and the king-sized bed. The only strange thing was the window, which was completely covered with iron bars. "What the fuck?" he muttered, reaching out to touch them. As he did, he realized that he had a silver ring on his finger, one that Don didn't remember ever having
Then everything hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Shit!" he hissed, stepping back from the window. The unremarkable room now seemed smaller, colder, more sinister despite its basic structure. He quickly took the damned thing off and threw it to the other side of the room, far away from him. But even with it off, he could still feel its phantom weight on his finger, Baker's last words to him burned into his mind. Realizing where he was, he ran to the door and shoved it, half expecting it to be locked.
Surprisingly, it was open. Peeking out, he made sure that he was alone in the house before stepping out, his heart thumping within his chest. Thankfully, Baker wasn't around, at least not yet. Knowing that he had a limited amount of time, Don started to look around for a way out. Unfortunately, all the doors and drawers were firmly locked shut. Don didn't have anything on hand to try and pick them, so he knew that would be a lost cause. Looking through the rooms, he could see that all the windows were barred, reminding him of his situation. The bastard might see Don as his lover, but in reality, he was nothing more than a prisoner.
He examined the house, feeling even more unsettled by the second. While the interior seems like your standard suburban home if you disregard the prison bars on the windows, it still feels…off. It could be the lack of decorations save for the odd number of porcelain statues that lined the selves, each looking as cold and hollow as the next. Remembering Baker's fascination with perfection, Don guessed this was just another part of his delusion.
Then he reached a white door at the end of the hallway. Don reached out to grab the doorknob, but something in him made him pause. His instincts were going wild like the sirens on his car. Something about this room feels wrong, he could feel it. A large part of him didn't want to open it, but he had no choice. He had to make sure that he tried everything, so to leave a room unchecked just because of a hunch, no matter how strong, would be a dumb move on his part. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he shoved the door open.
As soon as he did, he backed up to the nearest wall as fast as he could, covering his nose. Inside was something he never expected.
The room itself was a modest studio, one that artists would usually have for their art. There were canvases, both filled and empty, paint brushes, and a large working table. All in all, it would've been a standard studio if it weren't for the fact that there's a fridge with a glass door that had clear pouches of blood. Not to mention the dead body on the table, his body cut cleanly from joint to joint like some messed up puppet art project. The stench of decay mixed with the strong resin assaulted his senses, making him cough. Coming closer to it, he could see that the skin was painted on with resin, mimicking the shiny look that porcelain dolls have. The limbs have been cut off with the ends of the bones having a hook drilled on one end and the other, a hole. Clearly to mimic those mannequins that could freely bend and move.
Next to the table was another dead body, this time clearly finished. Light blue eyes stare hollowly into Don, the glassy stare seemingly piercing through his soul. The body had a synthetic wig on, the blonde strands fading due to age. The limbs were cut at the joints and joined together using the same hook system and the jaw was separated from the face, looking more like those demented skeleton puppets that Charlie used to be afraid of when they were little. Don could see the metal shining from within the mouth, holding the lower jaw in place. The skin was extremely pale and bloodless, the resin almost making it seem like porcelain. It was clear that Baker had taken care when trying to preserve his fifth victim. Don wondered whether this was Baker's first kill. He decided to step back, unwilling to contaminate the body even further. Looking back at the table, a flash of colour caught his attention before his breath hitches at his throat.
There on the wall in front of the table was a large painting that was surrounded by hundreds of pictures, all varying in sizes. They were all of him. Don stared horrified as he recognized some of these pictures, ones that he was sure there was no one else but the people he knew. How long had he been watching me? When did he have the time? How did I not notice? Questions swirled around his head, some even worse than the last. But now wasn't the time to ponder them.
He needed to get out.
The studio itself was messy and cluttered. Paint cans, brushes, canvases and the like scattered all around the floor. Don could get a glimpse of some paintings of him and wisely decided to steadily avoid those. Going to the table, he growled as he realized all the drawers were locked. The bigger tools that Baker used on the victims were most likely outside in a separate shed since Don didn't see anything like that anywhere in the house. Knowing that there was nothing he could do for the victims here, he walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Leaning onto one of the walls, he wanted to scream. There was no way he was giving up now, especially after this. But dammit! Baker was too thorough. Almost every drawer was locked shut and the ones that weren't had nothing that Don could use. All the windows were barred with no give to them so Don couldn't force them open. All the doors that lead outside were locked, deadbolted, had some serious screws holding them up, and swung inside instead of out, making it difficult for Don to even try and kick it down. Baker made sure that there was nothing Don could exploit. He really did leave Don no leeway at all. Don didn't know if he should be worried or proud.
Feeling frustrated, he lightly banged his head against the wall and let it sit there, thinking. He looked up, hoping to get at least some kind of inspiration. And that's when he saw it, the possible key to his escape. Running back into the dining room, he went to one of the taller tables and started to push it back, mindful of his injuries. Then he went to the closet in the bedroom and got one of the clothing hangers, which he brought back. Angling the chair just right, he then got on top of it and went to work.
Just a bit to the left. Nope, too far. Gotta tip-toe a bit more. Try and hook it in…missed! Gotta reach out a bit more. Now a bit to the right…YES!
Don grinned as he got the hangar onto the tiny metal hook. Bracing himself, he pulled down. As expected, a hidden trapdoor sprung open, the ladder slammed onto the wooden floors with a dull THUD. Internally cheering, he leaned onto the ladder, peering up. The room above was dark so there wasn't much that he could see from down there. So he decided to quickly shove the table back to where it was, put the hangar back, and get up into the room.
As soon as he poked his head in, he coughed and sneezed. His lungs clearly weren't agreeing with the damp and dusty air of the attic. Waving his hand around in an attempt to get the dust away from him, he looked around, trying to see if there was anything he could use. Unfortunately for him, the boxes were pretty useless. They just contained art supplies along with clothes and a few trinkets. It was clear that Baker was planning to move in. Then he looked ahead, noticing something odd.
There was a large wooden closet in the far end of the attic. But behind that, Don could make out a faint glow. Walking up to it, he planted his feet into the floor and pushed it aside. As soon as he did, Don had a clear view on what it was. Behind the closet was a window, one that was covered with a curtain. Pushing it aside, Don almost laughed out loud. The window, the only window in the attic, was completely unbarred.
Don undid the latch and shoved it open, assessing his situation. It was clearly late in the afternoon, the sun sitting lower on the horizon. Surrounding the house were trees, lots of them. They were clearly in a forest with nature as far as the eye could see. Don shuddered at the implication. They were all alone here, with no one around to save him. Secluded and completely isolated. He knew that if he screamed, no one would hear him. And Baker clearly knew that as well, probably banked on it. He didn't even want to imagine what the man had in store for him if these were the lengths that he would go.
Looking down, he could see that there was a tree that was next to the roof. He could climb down that way, since it was the safest option. He couldn't afford to get hurt again. Steeling his nerves, he gingerly put his leg out first, blindly searching for that roof until his foot hit it.
He was about to fit his whole body through the window when he heard it, the engine of a car pulling up.
FUCK! He's here!
Don quickly got out and gently closed it, praying that Baker didn't hear him. Then he remembered something.
DAMNIT! I FORGOT TO PULL UP THE LADDER! Don almost slapped himself. Rookie mistake! Now he really had to book it. It wouldn't be long before Baker realized how he escaped.
Peering down, he could see that Baker had quite a load of items in his trunk. Seemed like he hasn't finished moving in. But then Don noticed something else. In one of Baker's arms was a box that contained familiar items. His items. Ones that Don kept in his apartment.
I guess we can also put robbery into his list of crimes Don thought sarcastically.
Feeling even more disturbed by the second, he watched for his opportunity to sneak down. That came when Baker unlocked the door, whistling happily and then walked inside. As soon as Don could hear his footsteps fade into the house, Don rushed to the tree. Swiftly climbing down, he went from branch to branch before finally getting onto one that would give him a safe landing. As soon as he landed on the ground, he heard a thud of items being dropped from inside the house, loud cursing and angry footsteps followed suit.
Shit! He saw it!
Don instantly took off, not even looking back. He couldn't afford to lose momentum, not once. Looking down, he could see the tire tracks that Baker left behind along with the wide area where there weren't any trees. Realizing that it could lead him to a road, he decided to follow it, making sure he was hidden behind the trees that surrounded it.
Rushing through the trees, Don ran for his life. He couldn't hear the roar of engines, so he figured that Baker wasn't chasing him with his car. That gave Don a slight advantage. If he could get far enough, he could rest.
The air was chilly during this time and darkness started to close in. Feeling the burn in his lungs intensifying, he stopped, leaning on the tree as he coughed. His body still hasn't completely recovered from his previous ordeal. Shaking the light headache, he wiped the sweat from his face, his heart thundering within his chest. Whether it was from the impromptu exercise or the most horrifying game of hide and seek, he didn't know. He was just about to take off again when he heard it, footsteps.
Fuck! I can't run yet. If he did, he'd surely get caught. He didn't know if Baker had his gun or not and he wasn't eager to find out anytime soon.
Thinking fast, he got to a large tree with a low hanging branch and tried to pull himself up, using the grooves in the trunks as purchase. It was difficult, doing it with mostly one arm, but he managed. Pressing closely to the tree while making himself as small as possible, he waited. He could hear the footsteps getting louder and louder each second, shoes crunching into the dead leaves.
Crunch…
Crunch…
Crunch…
Then it stopped right below him. Don held his breath, praying that Baker couldn't hear his beating heart.
"Where are you sweetheart~?" Baker's sickeningly sweet sing-song voice filled the empty space of the forest. "It's late, you don't want to catch a cold do you?"
Don almost snorted. As if he actually cares.
"You know, this little stunt of yours is very inconvenient to me" he admonished. "I don't appreciate needing to run around the forest this late". There were a few tense seconds before the man sighed in annoyance. "I was hoping I didn't need to do this, so I'll make a compromise. Since I'm such a generous husband, I won't punish you if you come out right now. But, if you decide to be stubborn…I won't be held accountable for what I'm going to do to you". Don shuddered at the tonal shift. The angry growl near the end alone was enough to tell Don how dangerous it would be if he failed.
Baker wasn't happy and Don was afraid to find out what would happen if he got caught.
A/N: DON'T KILL ME FOR ENDING IT RIGHT THERE! Chapter 24 is actually already finished, but I'm still going to post on Monday so y'all have to wait. Also, wouldn't it be funny if I like...didn't post again after this (I'M JOKING! I wouldn't abandon this fic, I'm in too deep). Anyways, Don's extremely fucked and now you know why Baker calls him doll.