Drapetomania | Creepypasta

33.

??, ??, 2017

I was back in the basement

The cold, damp air of the basement clawed at my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt across my arms and neck. The frayed ropes binding me to that sinister chair bit into my wrists and ankles, causing my flesh to burn with each futile struggle. I could taste the cloth gag, its musty, oppressive flavor invading my mouth, stifling my desperate screams.

Ben's presence was a grotesque shadow in the dimly lit room. His features were distorted, monstrous, as if he were a vile specter from the darkest corners of my mind. The electric wires in his hand crackled ominously, casting eerie, dancing lights that flickered in time with my escalating fear.

His grip on my face was as cold and unyielding as death itself. His fingers felt like icy tendrils of despair as they pressed into my flesh, restraining me from any escape. His words, laden with dark intent, slithered into my ears. "You belong to me, Y/n," he hissed, his voice dripping with sadistic authority. "You're mine, and there's no escape. You can either submit to me willingly or meet your end. Either way, you'll be with me forever." The weight of his words, each syllable dripping with malice, hung heavy in the air.

The promise of ownership and eternity with him was a nightmarish ultimatum, a horrifying choice that left me paralyzed with dread. It was as if my very existence had been reduced to this dreadful moment, where escape was a cruel illusion, and all that remained was the twisted realm of pain and submission.

Tears welled up in my eyes, cascading down my cheeks as I gazed up at him, trapped in a nightmarish paradox where the only choices were torment and death. The room closed in around me, the darkness and fear an unending abyss, and I was left with the haunting realization that I was trapped in a never-ending cycle of anguish.

My eyes flew open, and my heart raced in my chest, threatening to burst free. Gasping for air, I tried to shake off the haunting nightmare that had clung to me like a malevolent specter. The room was a shroud of darkness, only faintly lit, and the dream's horrors still held me in their grip.

I trembled, my skin sticky with the chill of cold sweat. The nightmare had been a vivid, cruel reenactment of my past, thrusting me back into the turmoil of my time in the basement. The overwhelming dread that had shadowed my waking hours had taken on tangible form in my dream.

Clutching the thin blanket tightly against my chest, I drew several deep breaths, trying to regain my composure. In that moment, as my heart still raced from the remnants of the nightmare, Masky was the first to rush into my room. He moved swiftly, his concern etched across his usually impassive face. Kneeling down beside me, he inquired, "Are you okay? What happened?"

His voice held an unusual warmth, a stark contrast to the silence and distance that had characterized his demeanor since my arrival at the mansion. Though I was uncertain of how much I could share, his genuine concern was both surprising and comforting.

Masky's gloved hands gently reached out and took hold of my wrists, inspecting the marks I had unknowingly left. His eyes narrowed as he observed the faint rope burn patterns, and I could sense the turmoil behind his mask.

"But... it was just a dream," I stammered, my voice still shaky from the remnants of the nightmare. I glanced down at my wrists, unable to fully understand how the distressing marks had manifested in the physical world.