Work Text:
Finney woke up to the smell of eggs.
Fresh eggs.
Finney grimaced as he shoved another handful of putrid scrambled eggs into his mouth, wishing that he had just been good .
But, he didn’t pounce onto the dish of scrambled eggs.
Instead, he leaned over the side of the dirty mattress and vomited.
“I don’t feel so good,” Finney muttered as he retched into the toilet bowl once again.
The Grabber hummed from where he was looming in the narrow hallway behind him, “I can see that,” he commented, amusement seeping into his voice as he watched more bile burst from the boy’s mouth.
If things had been different– if Finney had been good – then The Grabber would have crouched beside the boy, rubbing his back and offering him comfort as he dispelled the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
But, Finney hadn’t been good for him.
And this was his punishment.
A soft coo sounded from the corner of the basement that was immediately drowned out by the sound of the boy’s pitiful retching and the sound of liquid hitting the grimy ground.
Beneath the mask, The Grabber’s lips twitched as another feeble wave of vomit entered the basement, adding to the already unpleasant smell clinging to the basement.
The Grabber hesitated, hand hovering over the bucket filled with water as he gazed down the darkened staircase leading towards the basement.
The basement that was filled with blood, guts and bodily fluids that painted a horrifying picture.
The basement that would strike fear in the next boy that The Grabber chose.
The Grabber smirked as he took a step backwards over the threshold and closed the door, excitement sparking in his eyes as he imagined the amount of fear he would soon revel in.
The Grabber watched and waited until Finney had finished soiling the floor until he raised to his feet and he spoke again, “You don’t feel good still, eh?” The Grabber asked as he began moving towards the mattress.
Finney squeezed his eyes shut, willing the nausea away. He wished that he could will The Grabber away.
The Grabber tutted when he didn’t receive a reply. But, surprisingly, he didn’t seem reuely disappointed.
Slowly, The Grabber lowered himself onto the stained mattress, eyes never leaving the boy who had immediately stiffened when he felt the mattress dip under the man’s weight.
Finney closed his eyes, and waited.
But what he waited for never came.
Instead of The Grabber’s hands, he was given the man’s gentle voice.
“I could get you something else,” The Grabber offered, flicking his eyes towards what he guessed was the cause of the boy’s nausea, “I didn’t know the smell of fresh eggs could make you sick,” he chuckled, amusement sparking in his eyes as he let his gaze sweep back towards the boy.
Hesitantly, Finney allowed his eyelids to slide open as a small furrow appeared in his sweaty brow.
Then he turned his head towards the man, confusion clear in his face as he uttered a single word that had been in his mind since he first arrived in the basement, “Why?”
The Grabber tilted his head to the side, “Why?” He repeated, wanting the boy to clarify.
The boy swallowed, ignoring the taste of bile staining his mouth, “I haven’t been,” he paused, face twisting into a grimace as he forced the word from his slimy lips, “Good.”
The Grabber hummed in acknowledgement, “You haven’t been good,” he agreed with a curt nod of his head as he locked eyes with the boy, “But you can be good, right?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.
Eventually, the boy reluctantly nodded.
Beneath the mask The Grabber beamed, excited to see if the boy really could be good this time.
And, if he couldn’t be good…
Well, The Grabber was looking forward to punishing the boy. Again.