"Please?" He neared me, pinning my shoulders  like those model butterflies. I tried to thrash against him but he just pushed harder. "Please what?!" He shouted, jerking me around. Paul's booming voice practically burst my eardrum. The knife flailed around carelessly.

"Please don't do whatever you think you want to do to me." I whimpered, tears running down my grubby face. "Please. There are grievers everywhere Paul. We have to stay safe. You have to find Victor, right?!"

His face faltered for a moment. Cries of adolescent boys filled the glade. The light was so far away. Now it was only him and me in a dark corner. Trapped.

⚠️Eyo homies this is a TW for this part cuz Paul's about to physically harm y/n. Of course there is NO SA though⚠️

"I don't have to do anything!" Paul snarled, finding my wrists and shoving them against the wall. "I'll find him when I find him. There's plenty of time for you and me before then."

Pain seared into me.

"Ow!" I cried, convulsing as he dug his nails into the soft flesh of my wrists. "Please...no!" He retracted from the skin, leaving pink half moon circles printed on. It stung. Shit it stung like barb wired venom.

"So what's the little whore been up to lately?" He chuckled manically. "Screw Gally yet?" I breathed shakily as he leaned his head against the wall beside me. "Or Zart? Or that Thomas kid?"

"How do you know about him?" Paul had been missing for days. There was no way he could've known. No way.

"I've been watching you." He laughed, cherub dimples contrasting with dark eyes. Filled to the brim with hatred, rage, malice. "Oh I've been watching you y/n. In the most obvious places. From the kitchens, the deadheads, in closets, in the dark." He whispered uncomfortably close to my ear. Hot breath on my neck. "From under your bed."

My throat had been blocked before then but that was enough to make me let out an aching built up scream.

"HELP-" Paul clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling any noise. Silencing me.

"Shut the fuck up!" He squished my face around, leaving hand imprints over it. "Of course I can't keep an eye on you all the time so I've got to know...did you fuck him?" Releasing my sore jaw, he waited for my answer.

"Who?"

"Idiot! You know who!" He seethed. "Victor."

"No! No I never ever did anything like that with him. I swear to Christ!"

"Whatever." Paul spat, looking disgusted but satisfied with my reply. "You're filthy anyways. It's better that you stayed away from him. Who knows how many guys you've slept with."

"So is that it? Can you let me go?" I pleaded, grievers mechanical whirring could be heard in the distance. "Please!" I clawed at his shirt, praying he'd hurry up.

"Not so fast." Paul said icily, jolting me back to the wall. He held me there using one arm."The fun's just beginning y/n. You don't wanna go so soon." Bringing his other hand up revealed the knife he held. Doing a double take I realized it wasn't any old knife. It was my knife.

"You stole my knife!" I flared, offended he could take something so sentimental to me. I had hidden it under my pillow for safekeeping. There was a reason I kept it so safe. It was the knife I had cut Gally with.

It was special.

"Finders keepers." He sneered, raising it up again. Spinning it around so juvenile. "You took Victor from me. He's saying he likes you and all this bullshit. He doesn't know what he wants. I have to help him see that I'm the one for him. I'm his only option." Paul ghosted the knife over my neck, miming a throat slitting. "I'm gonna make me his only option."

"Really?" I asked dubiously. Instead of being terrified like I had been, I felt something different. I felt...power? He seemed so insecure. So jealous. So desperate. So hurt. He seemed more manic than evil. Human but twisted. Pain blackening his heart. Hurting it. It was a low blow but hey he had attempted my murder I'm pretty sure I had the right to say something fucked up. "You need to kill me to get him to love you?"

"What?" His face scrunched up in confusion, he tilted his head. "No. I mean yes. I mean no!" Paul shook his head, aligning the knife with my heart this time. Attempting to hyper focus on murder. I looked over his shoulder to see something strange.

An angel. A halo of curls crowning his head. A Chuck. My Chucky. He was treading slowly towards us, out of Paul's sight with an old machete in hand. We made eye contact. He pressed a finger to his lips. Quiet. Got it. I just needed to distract him. Yeah.

An idea slammed into my head. Well it was more like Paul's fist on my cheek but it resulted in the same product. Allowing movie lines to swim in my mind.

"It's surprising you chose a knife to kill me with." I panted, as Chuck closed in behind Paul. He was holding it lightly against my jugular now.

"Why?" He muttered, narrowing his eyes.

"Let's be real here, a knife? For God's sake Paulie. Drag yourself into the nineties. Stabbings went out with Bundy and Dahmer. You look like Martha Stewart with that thing!" A wild smirk played on my lips. This was the first time I felt alive all night. The first time I felt brave.

"Who the fuck is Martha Stewart?!" Paul's lips pursed, the knife relaxing. I knew he wouldn't get it. I knew he would be confused. It wasn't the point for him to get it. The point was Chuck was standing right behind him. Machete soaring down to Paul's leg.

"My idol." I snarked. Thrilled to have my sarcasm back. It wasn't broken!

"ARGHHH!" Paul's eyes widened when Chuck sliced into him. Dropping the knife in distress. He slumped to the ground, blood gushing out of the fresh wound.

"Fuck!" Chuck cursed. "What do we do now?!" Licking my lips, I swooped down to snatch my knife up.

"Run!" I urged, grabbing Chuck's hand and racing away.

"You Bitch! I'm gonna get you for this! I'm gonna..." Paul's voice faded away as we entered the glowing clearing. Oozing with massacre.