Chapter Text
Your back hurts, cripplingly so. You can't move, laying on the floor, staring with misty eyes as you contemplate your life decisions. You think back to what everyone has always told you.
Lift with your knees, not your back. Your legs, not your back.
And you did it anyway. Fuck, how could you be so stupid? You'd overestimated your strength, thought it was lighter than it was. And now you reap the consequences of that small bit of arrogance.
You can't move. There's a ringing in your ears, the pain in your lower back so, so bad. A tear slips out. You try to shift, try to push up onto your knees, only to let out a pained cry, taking hurried, deep breaths at the flash of agony that licks up your spine.
You can't move, and you're all alone. Your phone isn't nearby, and the walls are too thick for you to be heard if you try calling out for help. Nobody would hear, and a hoarse throat is the last thing you need on top of your crippled status.
You're too busy taking deep, panicked breaths to hear the thumping sounds of footsteps. Your ears are ringing, brain a panicked animal on its own as you stare blankly ahead, tears leaking onto the floor.
The thought of being stuck here for God knows how long petrifies you.
A grating sound reaches your ears, like an old door opening. It cuts through the haze. What?
From the direction of your hallway, footsteps are heard. Loud, heavy footsteps. A new kind of fear fills you.
A man turns around the corner, unknown to you, a green veil covering his face. He stands in the doorway, staring at you as you freeze, pupils pinpricks.
You're going to die, you realise. The thought causes you to try and scramble– keyword being try as the second you try to push up you let out a choked scream, tears falling faster as pain hits you hard.
The man tsk's, walking over.
"Dumme kleine…“ He mutters, slowly kneeling. He slides a hand under your cheek, staring through his veil. You're frozen, no choice in the matter.
With a cluck of his tongue, the stranger– invader– stands, walking around with too much familiarity as he grabs pain medication from the cupboard. How does he know where you put it?
He feeds them to you, and desperate as you are, you take them. He manages to give you some water to ease their passage.
He stays knelt beside you until you calm, pain easing. Then, and only then, does he slide his arms under you, rolling you over until you're on your back. Then, with a soft sigh, he picks you up bridal-style, hefting you up securely, before turning around, carrying you out into the hall. There, you see that the basement door that had been sealed shut when you moved in– "Nothing you need to worry about, it's completely sealed off"– was open, the gaping maws that were the doors wide open, only pure darkness visible from here.
For a moment, you're struck with the all-consuming fear that he'll take you down there, tie you up, do things to you– but no. The invader bypasses the stairs going down entirely, instead going up.
The man walks towards your room with ease, no need to check where it may be. He knows his way around. He settles you into your bed on your front, then grabs the cream for muscle pains from the bathroom. Really well, apparently.
You should be more scared. You should still be scared.
But you're not.
Not when he only pushes your top up as much is necessary before beginning to apply the cream, muttering in German about something. Once done, he looks at you, pushing a stray lock of hair out of your face.
"Rest now, meine Besessenheit, we'll speak later, ja?”