Chapter Text
All the therapy and mediocre sex in the world couldn’t fix her, but at least liquor numbed the wound.
After adding the necessary canned beans and peppers to her grocery basket, it was time to pick up what she really wanted. She meandered through the refrigerated section toward the “main dish” - the entire reason she ate, sometimes. A way to make the world go fuzzy, make her body forget the score.
At least she never drank on an empty stomach. That’s responsible, right?
So what if she indulged a bit too often after the basement? But what the fuck, she was still here. Alive. That itself was a miracle. Walking with a cane was a small price to pay. And the jeweled finger prosthetics she wore really did a lot for her aesthetic sensibilities. A silver lining after going through hell.
Unfortunately, the beer aisle was still off limits, so she had to take the long way around. Just seeing a can of the stuff made her stomach knot. That’s the paradox of her life now - some things felt easier, some things felt worse. And she never knew exactly which way it would tip until she’s already collapsed in on herself, screaming silent, fingers threatening to remove a chunk of hair.
But she was (for all intents and purposes) living a normal life. If she just kept saying it, then eventually it would be true.
After her detour, she finally arrived at the alcohol section. Cam deliberated, fiddling with her eyebrow piercing as she scanned the shelves, before picking up some mid-shelf gin. She already had some tonic water at home. That would do for tonight.
When she turned away, intending to head toward the cash register, she spotted the broad back of a man in a flannel shirt at the end of the aisle. Stringy brown hair stuck to the nape of his neck.
Adrenaline squeezed her lungs until she could barely inhale. She tried anyway, forcing air in, then out. Ribcage expanding, contracting. She focused on it.
This had happened before, countless times. Once she drew closer, the delusion would inevitably melt away, and the person would clearly be someone else. Similar enough, but not him. Never him.
Strade’s presence lingered in her life as a spectre she learned to live with, forcing her hand and heart when she least expected it. But this was clearly her mind self-sabotaging again.
Cam closed her eyes and ran through the logic.
He wouldn’t be in this part of town. She’d moved further away, far from the area near that bar. Changed her name, legally, from Cameron to Natalie (though she didn’t go by it much outside of her job). Got a certification for a different type of software engineering. Switched companies.
She’d even made some friends. One of them… maybe more than that. Someone she’d met on the apps that she had a little too much in common with. A mirror of her shadow that brought them both comfort. Daisy: like the flower, but far less innocent.
Things were different. She was free.
“Not real,” she muttered as she made her way down the aisle. “It’s not him.” So why wasn’t he fading into a stranger? Why was the familiarity growing, the closer she drew?
He turned, and her limbs became stone.
There was a scar creeping up from his clavicle. Pink-brown, shiny. The place where she’d taken the knife and -
Goosebumps erupted up her arms, each delicate hair standing on end.
“Cam!”
It couldn’t be. And yet.
“Hey, buddy,” her nightmare spoke. “What’s for dinner tonight, hmm?” He glanced into her basket. “Ooh, chili? With a little G and T?”
He entered her space so easily, as if no time had passed at all. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, his fingers encroached around the back of her neck. The tracks felt well-worn, like resetting a brand.
She was still too stunned to speak, too trapped between dreaming and reality to understand the horror of his presence in broad daylight. At the fucking grocery store. His eyes pierced through to her core like his dagger once did.
“Mind if I stop by tonight? We have so much to catch up on.” Strade said the last bit loudly, waving with a cheerful smile to an old woman approaching the aisle.
“Oh, don’t let me stop you two,” she said with a pithy giggle. She shot Cam a knowing look - but unfortunately her facial expressions were not back online. She couldn’t even ask for help, let alone return a smile.
“Sorry ma’am,” Strade said, his grin turning sheepish. “Just catching up with an old friend. Here, do you need help reaching anything?”
The old woman blushed. “That’s quite all right, dear. Just need to get through.”
“Of course!”
Ever the gentleman, Strade squeezed to the side to make room for the woman to push her cart past. He looked down at Cam, hands up in surrender, and pressed in. Nobody in the grocery store would bat an eye at this interaction as he encroached effortlessly upon her space.
Manipulative. Asshole.
There was a false-apologetic quirk in his brow as his belly and pelvis drew flush against hers.
He was hard.
Now ?
She hissed, like the contact burned her. Fuck. This was real. She’d made it out, survived all this time, and in one fell swoop he’d found her again. The old woman creaked slowly past behind them, cart wheels squeaking, mercifully shielded from the tent in his pants.
Strade leaned down slightly and inhaled, sharp and quick. “You smell delicious.” He murmured, too soft for others to hear. “Mmh, I missed it. It’s cruel that you’ve deprived me for so long.”
“Get. Away.” She mouthed.
“No,” he sighed. “I don’t think you want me to do that. See, I can feel the truth,” he nudged one knee between her thighs. “ Here .”
It struck like lightning, the contact. She felt his dick straining against her hip.
“Your heart’s beating so fast… all because of me? Ah -” His words hitched. He bit his lip, but the blush blooming across his cheeks said it all. Her pussy throbbed traitorously.
She hated how her body reacted to him. The heat, the need to please, to placate , anything to stop the pain - it came back in a rush, so fast she felt dizzy with it.
“Oh, but don’t think about running away, little rabbit,” he said, even quieter. “I know where your friend lives. Daisy? You wouldn’t want her to get hurt, right?”
And just like that, the moment passed. The curtain splitting her life into normalcy and hell was once again pulled back by his grimy fingers, which slid off of her neck as though reluctant to release her. He dusted himself off, an appropriate distance away, and gave her a polite nod.
“Well. I’ll see you outside!” That smile again. But she easily clocked the manic glint in his eyes.
He had her. Surely he wasn’t going to let her go home. She stood there, one hand gripping her cane like a vice, until the old woman finally left the aisle.
She pulled out her phone, unblinking, and texted Daisy with numb fingers.
I’m so glad we met.
A pause, and then she added:
Please be happy. Stay safe. Don’t come looking for me.
The grocery store became a liminal space, a bridge between her old life and whatever came next. Part of her wanted to continue wandering forever, through aisles of cold and preserved food, until she became a part of the background itself. The beer aisle, which had seemed terrifying only moments ago, paled in comparison to the monster awaiting her.
But there was another side of her that wasn’t scared at all. The sick part that craved his hands on her, inside her, which she hadn’t been able to suffocate after months of trying. The lamb which bore its neck for the wolf. Willing, eager. She hated it.
Cam made her way to the checkout, instinctively handing her ID to the cashier when prompted (she was well over 21 at this point, but almost always got asked anyway).
“Here you are, Natalie,” the man said brightly, handing her the bag. “Have a wonderful day!”
“Yeah… sure.”
Cam stepped into the parking lot, cool air quickly whipping her short hair into a mess. She closed her eyes and let it.
Who knew when she’d feel the breeze again?
“Ohh Natalie,” Strade’s voice interrupted her reverie. “Cute name you picked out, but I like your real one better.” He grabbed her wrist tenderly, almost boyfriend-like, but she could feel the firmness of ownership. Come with me, or else.
She allowed him to pull her away, down one of the lines of cars. Strade's pace caused her to skip steps, limping and hissing, and he grinned at her effort. As if nothing pleased him more than witnessing the permanent pain he'd gifted her.
Cam recognized his expensive (yet nondescript) van a short way down. When they reached it, he pulled her between the cars and pinned her wrist against the side of the adjacent truck. Strade glanced down, expectantly. She felt the press of firm metal under his crushing grip, a bruise threatening to bloom already under tender skin. Eyes narrowed, she leaned back against the car door and dropped her cane and bag of groceries on the ground.
She needed her other hand free. Just in case.
“Hmm, where’s all that fight in you now?” He chuckled. “Have I broken you already?”
She stared up at him, impassively. Reaction is what he wanted. She had to withhold it, as much as possible. He quirked an eyebrow, reading her train of thought.
“Nothing, huh? You must know I can’t do anything to you in broad daylight, anyway!” He laughed, musical and soft. It must have seemed like such a funny joke to him.
“What do you want?” Cam asked, wearily. His grip was beginning to send static to her brain. The other hand rubbing circles into her hip didn’t help.
“Dinner, catch up - were you not paying attention? Silly girl,” he said, that sharp grin glinting fondly. “Always getting stuck in that head of yours.”
There must be a catch. “And if I say no?”
Strade shrugged. “I’ll be there at 7, regardless.”
“You know where I live.” She stated it as a fact.
“Oh, I’ve known for months now,” He paused, his smile growing as her face fell. “You weren’t exactly hard to find.”
She had to stifle a retch, gurgling at the back of her throat. It was foolish to think she could ever be safe, not while he still lived. Now she was paying for that mercy.
Or was it something worse?
“To really be invisible,” he continued, “you’d have to cut yourself off from the world. But you couldn’t do that, could you?”
She attempted to ground herself - flexing her stomach, flaring her nostrils. Anything to stop the tears from spilling over. Anything to stop from falling apart.
“I saw some of the people you brought home,” he continued, flippant, “flachpfeifen, every one. So boring, so safe, a nice quick fuck - but you need a little more to get off, hm?”
He… saw her? In bed with other people? She shook her head, no, he's trying to throw her off. Focus.
“Not anymore,” she managed to keep her voice firm, though her lip quivered. “I’ve stopped. Wanting that. I don’t need that.”
He dug his thumbnail into her skin, pressing hard. She stifled a groan as the nail bit in, felt the drip of blood ooze out. The sting of pain, a promise, a curse.
“You’re such a bad liar, mein leibling. But it’s okay. I like that about you.”
“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” She hissed.
He laughed, again, his free hand moving to tilt her chin up.
“Because you’re ‘the one that got away,’ aren’t you?” He said, gaze blazing and too-hot in the sunlight. His eyes shone with copper brilliance. “And I mean that in every sense. Nobody has ever been to my basement and lived. Well, besides Ren - but he’s still with me. You,” he tapped her nose, “my puzzle, did what no one else could.”
Cam tried valiantly to sneer at him, puffing out her chest. “I’m not some special person. You just underestimated me.”
“And yet, I remain at large,” he said, an expression of mock seriousness.
“I reported you as soon as I could,” she explained, unable to stop herself. “I thought the cops might… I don’t know. Find your basement. Lock you up. Stop this shit from happening to anyone ever again.”
Strade laughed at that, a full belly guffaw. “Ah! Well. that was a bad call. The police love me, they don’t suspect a thing. And because of that investigation, it helped me figure out where you were. How convenient!”
Her shoulders shook. “I should have just fucking killed you.”
“Probably,” he agreed, taking her wrist and dragging it up to his shoulder. He tucked her fingers under his collar, dragged them along the scar she left him, and she shivered. “But you couldn’t. And why is that?”
“Because killing people is wrong,” she said through gritted teeth. “Most people with functioning morals feel the same.”
Strade giggled again. “Oh! So noble! But another lie.”
He gripped her jaw, suddenly, eyebrows flashing up. He slammed her arm back against the car, twisting it and crushing it behind her back.
“Ack! What are you -”
Strade leaned in and shoved his lips clumsily against hers. He pushed, prying hard, but Cam held resolute and pursed - until he managed to suck her bottom lip out. When he bit it, humming reverently, his teeth were sharp enough to draw blood. She cried out, and he sank into her mouth. His tongue, prodding, hungry, suddenly lunged down toward her throat. She gagged, groaning around the intrusion, and felt him moan in return.
They’d never kissed before.
He’d put his mouth on other parts of her, of course. Tongued into fresh knife wounds and bloody drill holes, licked between her legs as she fought to get away. Bit into her neck until it bruised and welted. This was different. This felt… almost domestic, for him.
Strade’s breath tasted like mint, like cigar smoke, like he’d been planning on this. She whimpered, tears stinging at her eyes as he took her breath away. He grinded a knee up against her, dug his thumb into the cut on her wrist until it split.
When he pulled back, his face was tinted pink. He licked a bit of her blood from his teeth. “You couldn’t kill me because you like me,” he said, simply. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
“Y-you. You kissed - ”
“So I wanted to show how much I like you. Do you believe me now?”
“No,” she mumbled. But she felt the truth, curled in the darkest parts of her, soaring with his approval. That she could be special to someone so dangerous. It was flattering.
“I just missed you, leibling, that’s all. Watching the old recordings isn’t nearly as nice as the real thing.” He sighed, fumbled for a moment over his words, “Agh, I want too much.” He glanced at her finger prosthetics. “Maybe we could go another round on the tablesaw, hm? I seem to remember you enjoying it a lot last time.”
Her vision blurred, the heat of arousal and cold fear from the sense memory rendering her speechless. But before she could formulate a reply, he’d let her go. She felt his absence keenly. His body, his words, his heavy breaths. She had to fight not to reach for him. Pathetic.
“Well, anyway. Obviously we have much to discuss. I’ll see you at 7:00, then!”
Cam said nothing as he got into his car, rolled the window down. “I won’t arrive empty handed of course.” He winked, then revved the engine. She watched him drive out of the lot, down the road.
Only a few more hours until her life was over. And all she could think of was going home and making a decent dinner for once. That maybe he would like it.
She was so, unbelievably fucked.