A/N: Fair warning, this involves sexual assault situations involving actions, thoughts, and conversation, please don't read if you have trouble with such topics. It isn't too crucial to the story, but the censored version is that the reader stumbles across the many doors of the characters reader has met and hasn't met yet! JTK pulls reader into his room but Toby saves the day! please enjoy and read at your own risk :)

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When you walk through the doors, you make your way up the stairs. You had a habit of slumping your head and shoulders down, so you completely missed the few people walking past you. You also missed the fact that you didn't have a room in the usual spot, resulting in you checking the wall. You shake your head, and look up confused. There was a door there, wasn't there? You glance around the hall, and notice it stretched further than before, wrapping around a corner. Everything looked relatively the same, but the house got bigger? What? You walk around the hall, scratching your head in confusion. Did you even have a room? What was going on?

You look past every door, realizing each was personalized. The first one you passed had complete, black handprints splattered on the door, and it dripped down in an eerie manner. Looking closer, the edges of the door had red blood handprints curled around the corner of the door, hinting at many victims. Creepy.

Another one had a few bulletholes in it, with a complimentary reek of cigarettes. Possibly Masky. The one next door was similar, but no scent. Most likely Hoodie?

You passed so many more, and as you grew closer to the end of the hall, you get hooked onto one door. It has a few sticky contents on it, and ranged in many colors. The decoration gave off the impression of melting candy, but you weren't about to find out.

You sigh, and continue on, but a hand cups over your mouth and drags you back. You let out a muffled scream, try to tear the hand off, but the door closes and you're slammed up against the door. Your face is smushed sideways, so you get a nice partial view of the knife held to the side of your throat. The room is dark, and you can't hear anything but your own deep breathing.

"Nice to finally meet you again, hun," you instantly recognize the unforgettable voice of the unforgettable face.

"The man with no lids or lips," he crushes you further and you let out a groan, "nice to see you, too."

He whips you around, keeping his knife snug against your neck. The light turns on, and you can see that beautiful face of his. His face still terrifies you, but it was not as surprising as your first encounter. You flash a small grin, and wait for some kind of conversation. He looks into your eyes, and you find his face contort into confusion.

"It's no fun without fear," he rolls his eyes, "so why aren't you doing something?"

"If you kill me right now, I could thank you for accomplishing the task I've been damned with since age 9." you chuckle yet wince as he presses the knife into your skin.

He pulls back slightly, then does a full body check.

"You're welcoming death, but I never said I would kill you." his eyes trail down to your lower body, and you have to admit, your heart completely dropped.

He notices your face drain all color, and that your pulse has quickened. Bingo. You hate to admit it, but by only the words and gestures made, he had you frozen. Your world began to fuzz and your breathing quickens. He had a strong grip on you, knife to neck, and drags you to the bed. He begins to laugh in a maniacal way that sends shivers through your body, and you suddenly couldn't feel. Your body felt like jelly, and regardless of the fight you put up, he easily pushed you down and cuffed your hands to the headboard.

You start to mumble to yourself. This wasn't happening. He wasn't ripping your shirt off. You weren't in only undergarments. It's a dream. It's all a dream. You try to kick him away, but your strength ripped away like your shirt in a rags on the floor. You can't even scream, but there was nothing to scream for. Your throat hurt, and you were already in a trance, you could tell. You wanted it to stop. Why didn't he listen to you? Why didn't anyone care about you? Why was this happening, what did you do?

You felt your ankles being bound to the foot of the bed, and you felt anger pool in your chest. It felt like you were gonna explode, and yet, you resulted in a laugh. You get a moment of sanity, and kick your final free limb, screaming on the top of your lungs. You laughed in between, feeling tears stream down your face. You repeat the words 'leave me alone' so many times it turned into a younger twister. He easily sliced his knife down your thigh as a warning. You scream louder, but the kicking stopped. You felt your voice giving out, and your eyes began to close. You deserved this, didn't you? You deserve everything you get. Everything terrible in the world. You laugh, but this time, it's silent. Your chest pumps in tune to your breaths between laughs. You hide your eyes between your left arm, and feel more warm tears fall. Everything seemed to be in a vignette filter, with the blur effect on a high percentage. You couldn't feel anything but pain. Mental, emotional, physical. It was a rerun. A rerun of every time. Why was this happening again? Why, why, why?

Your head lolls back, and snaps forward. The door was axed through. You felt more dread fill your entire being, then hatred. Pure hatred for yourself and those around you. Who did you think you were? Living as though you meant something? Who did these killers think they were? Entertaining you on your final days? Giving you a chance at a reformation of character? You couldn't want to live to be able to bring pain. It seemed so comfortably unjust, and yet you could not care less.

You continue to mumble to yourself, your head has fallen back once more. Tears fall into your hair and you flash back to images and memories. Dreadful. Deceitful. So much hatred. You hadn't realized your restrains were undone until something brushed against your wrist. Immediately, you retreat your hand, and curl up into a ball. You cover your head and bury your face into the knees. Leave. You just wanted them to leave. You repeat and repeat until your voice cracks out. The screaming took your voice. How perfect. Another thing to hate yourself for. Add to the list. You bang your fist against your head, but by the third hit, a hand grabs your wrist. Your blood runs cold, and you feel dizzy. No, not again, you look up, and someone is in front of you. When your eyes focus, a feeling of warmth spreads through your chest. Comfort. He's taking off his hoodie, and gently places it over your head.

"Kill me, right now. Do it, please," you plead and feel your breath get thinner.

He shakes his head, and motions at you to follow. You don't move and shake your own head. Understanding, he picks you up. You pass a frightful sight. The man was bludgeoned and you couldn't even make out a neck let alone his face. Toby has blood splattered on his face, and you don't even bother. Normal. It's all normal.

He brings you to a bathroom, and sets a bath for you. He leaves you, and stands outside, waiting. You shake, and don't even bother taking off your undergarments. You soothe into the bath, then begin to remove the things that got you in all the mess. You sit in silence, and calm down. After minutes of relishing in your sorrow, you feel okay enough to stand for a shower that you hadn't taken in what seemed like months now. Dirt and grime washed down the drain, and your hair could finally breath without the grease drowning your follicles. Reaching out for a towel, you dry and look into the mirror. The minor, but long cut down your thigh burned and felt fresh, yet didn't spit blood. You sigh, and throw on the sweatpants and sweatshirt that Toby prepared for you.

You unlock the door, and search for Toby. He sat on the floor beside the door, occasionally twitching. He stood at the sight of you, then nods his head towards his room, pulling you by the arm. He pushes you towards the bed, and pulls back the covers. You don't even bother questioning, and jump in. He grabs his own shower preparations, leaves, and locks the door.

By the time he returns, you've sat up and stared at his window for 20 minutes. He notices, and waves a hand in front of you. You blink, and lay back down. You think too much.

Toby, reluctantly, shuffles over to the bed. You can't seem to close your eyes, so you just watch him. He places his facial guards onto his nightstand, then dips in next to you. Instinctively, you move back and immediately feel light headed. Your breath quickens. Toby notices, and sits up. He searches through his drawers, and pulls out two pillows. He places it in between you two, then gives a thumbs up. Weird. You watch him turn his back, and close all the lights with a single remote. For the first time, you felt true comfort as you drifted off.