Y/n's pov

He stifled a laugh looking down at me as you groaned in pain. "Get up," he said as he held out a gloved hand, offering to help you out of the tub.

You took his hand and grudgingly pulled yourself up. "You O.K?" He said almost sounding concerned as he looked you up and down.

"Yeah, I guess." You said lowly, uncomfortable under his gaze.

He chuckled slightly and pulled a backpack off and open. He reached in grabbing a plastic bag and rifled though it, checking its contents. He nodded to himself in approval before holding it out to you. "This i-is all I could get on su-such short n-notice." He said as you took it and looked inside.

It held a bar of soap, shampoo, a hair brush, towel, and a cheap looking unopened toothbrush. You looked up at him not feeling as paranoid anymore, "Thank you," you said quietly.

He nodded and reached into the backpack, "Also, h-heres a change of cl-lothes." He said pulling out a small pile of clothes out of the bag and nearly shoving it into your grip.

He sat up and turned around. "I'll still be i-in the house so d-don't get any ideas." He said slightly lifting one of his hatchets out of it's holster.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he walked out without another word slamming the door behind him, making a large cracking noise.

"Oh, thanks?" You said to no one in particular as you stripped off your clothes and got in the shower.

You let the lukewarm warm water wash down your body as you tried not to think about the murder sitting somewhere inside this cabin. The only thing helping you forget was the constant scrubbing at your skin trying to get off any stains left by the days events. The soap and shampoo in the bag were cheap and old but they worked the get the dry blood and dirt off your skin and hair.

After about twenty minutes of scrubbing at your, then, blood stained hands you decided you needed to get out. You pushed the faucet towards 'off' and stepped. Once you were out you started to pat yourself down with the small towel he provided.

You looked at yourself in the fog covered mirror, your silhouette slowly becoming more clear as the minute passed. You picked up the small pile of clothes the boy gave you, examining it. It was a pair of black sweatpants and a dark blue long sleeve shirt. You slipped them on, finding them to be a little big on you, the sleeves ending a few inches below your fingers.

You sat the the cold bathroom tiles for a few minutes contemplating going out and a possible escape plan, the rhythmic dripping of your damp hair being the only thing helping you keep track of time. An idea slowly crept into your head making you rise to your feet.

You started opening drawers and cabinets looking for a weapon of any kind. You started to lose hope only seeing medical equipment such as medical wrap and antibiotics. Your heart fluttered as you opened the sink drawer seeing a small pair as scissors that lay in the very back. You quickly shoved it into the elastic of your waist band, effectively hiding it from view.

You scooped up the remaining items in the plastic bag shoving it into the sink drawer. You made your way to the door turning the knob and looking down the vacant hall. You cautiously stepped out into the hallway and walked down the hall towards the wooden staircase.

Your heart rate increased as you slowly crept down the stairs, the floorboards creaking lightly under your weight. The downstairs was dim the only light source coming from what you presumed was the kitchen. You looked towards the front door then back at the light coming from the kitchen.

Deciding it wasn't the best time seeing that you was barefoot and your captor could easily track you down. You slowly made your way towards the kitchen, peaking around the corner.

The boy sat in a kitchen stool hunched over a stack of papers on the table. You cleared your throat and walked over to him, "Sir?" You said lightly tapping his shoulder.

He jumped breaking out of his focused state and looked back at you, "Oh, it's y-you." He sighed setting the stack of papers on the table.

You looked over his shoulder peeking down at what he was reading. Your eyes scanned the page of text the few highlighted parts standing out. You felt a pit in your stomach as you identified the words one by one; your name, your birthday, your address. You quickly snatched the top page from his grasp trying to read more. "Hey-" The teen said pulling it out of your grip.

"Why do you have that?" You cut him off crossing your arms and stepping back.

He didn't respond and shoved all the papers in a kitchen drawer. "You mu-ust be hungry, r-right?" He stuttered refusing to answer your question looking away from you.

"Kinda, yeah." You whispered not glaring at him.

He hummed to himself slightly and began opening and closing cabinets. "Uh,"he said looking through some lower cabinets "Do you l-like soup?" He said holding up a can of Campbell's vegetable soup.

You nodded looking awkwardly around the small kitchen. He pulled out a small pot from under the sink and poured two cans of soup into it. He carefully set it on the stove looking like he was attempting to stop the small twitches of his arms making the pot jerk slightly side to side.

Eventually he was able to steady it on the stove and start the flame underneath it. You shifted your weight as you stood in an uncomfortable silence. "Uh, Sir wh-" you began before he cut me off, "You can ca-call me by my name y-y-you know-w." He said turning to look at me blankly.

"U-um you never told me, you said for everyone to call you Sir a-and.." you squeaked trailing off.

"Toby," he said softly not turning to look at you.