Chapter Text
10th September 2018, 2:53pm
Pain
That was the only thing Finney could feel. Complete and utter pain. He should’ve listened. Shouldn't have gone up the stairs. But he had and boy did he face the consequences.
When he went up, he had thought for a moment that the grabber hadn’t noticed him. Oh how wrong Finney had been.
The grabber had noticed him almost immediately, having gotten up and pulling Finney toward him. Finney couldn’t remember for the life of him what happened then. What Finney can remember is that the grabber got bored of that game very quickly. It was around then that the beating started.
The first few hits had been spaced out. The grabber had been hesitating. Finney wished he didn’t. Then there was consistency. Less breaks between each hit, more force emitted into each hit.
What made it worse in Finney’s opinion, was that the grabber had been apologising. Was spewing some bullshit about how he didn’t want to do this to Finney, but that naughty boys had to be punished, blah blah blah. Finney hated every second of it. He hated it, because he knew the grabber couldn’t care less. To the grabber, Finney was just another kid he could use for his sick fantasies. He was a sixth kid. A sixth victim.
He faintly felt his own tears as they rolled down his cheeks. They were warm. Not the same warmth that was spread all throughout his body. No. Unlike the rest of his body, they didn’t burn, and they most certainly didn’t hurt him. They were just there, rolling down his cheeks onto the floor.
At an earlier point in time, the pain had blurred together. His body had gone numb from the pain. It went numb, and yet the warmth still remained. Finney wasn’t sure if the grabber was still hitting him. It didn’t matter. Finney wasn’t making it out of this place alive. He had made peace with that a long time ago. Hell, he’d known that since his first day in that basement. If Vance Hopper, the kid who could beat the shit out of anyone and everyone, couldn’t get out, then how on earth could Finney?
Finney felt himself slipping. He was grateful. There was simply no point in trying to live if he was only going to endure this shit all over again. His vision had started blurring out.
He was dying, there was no denying it. Part of him wondered what his grave would say, that is if he even got one. Possibly something small, a simple statement that read:'Here lies Finney Blake. Loved by everyone but his own dad.' Though, if they ever found out the truth, maybe his grave would read something a bit different, along the lines of 'Here lies Finney Blake, who was killed in the basement of a man who'll never regret what he did because he's just gross like that.'
In his final moments, Finney found that his thoughts were consumed with two people and two people only. Gwen and Robin. He hoped and prayed that Gwen would be able to manage without him. He hoped that his dad would finally fix himself up. Finney could only hope that Robin was alright. That he hadn’t suffered the same fate as Finney. Distantly, he also hoped that the grabber would be stopped. That another kid wouldn’t have to suffer the same way Finney and the other boys had.
Finney closed his eyes, his final breath containing that of an apology. To whom will forever be unknown. Perhaps it could’ve been to Gwen, or perhaps Robin. Maybe it was to the boys that were in that basement before him. Who knows. Only one thing was known though.
Finney Blake was dead.
Or was he?
6th May 2018, 5:00am
Finney woke up, the glare from the sun’s rays forcing his eyes to open. He looked around hesitantly, questioning just how he was in his room. He was supposed to be dead for fucks sake.
He propped himself up on his elbows, looking around until his gaze fell onto the calendar that was hung up in the corner of his room. He squinted at it. It was the 6th of May.
Finney was four months in the past.
Finney looked at the calendar again, double checking that he wasn’t seeing things. He wasn’t, as the same date remained. It felt like the world was taunting him. Or maybe it was God. Who knows. Finney dropped his head into his pillow, groaning as he did. There was so much to unpack, and such little time to do so. One such thing, is how the fuck he’s in that past. Another could be why the fuck he’s in the past, instead of being dead in the creeps house. And why the fuck is he back on the 6th of May. What was so special on this day that he just had to be back?
It was then that Finney had a moment of realisation. It’s the 6th of May. The first kidnapping happens on the 14th. That means none of the kidnappings have happened yet.
Something surged through Finney. A sense of hope. He could save them. He could save all of them. Himself, Robin, Billy, all of them. Finney looked around, searching for something to write on and with. He found a pencil, next to it a piece of paper. Finney reached for them both, double and triple checking that the piece of paper had nothing important on it, and started writing.
- 14th May - Griffin Stagg
- 30th May - Billy Showalter
- 6th June - Vance Hopper
- 19th August - Bruce Yamada
- 30th August - Robin
- 2nd September - Finney (Me)
That's it. The dates all of them go missing. Finney sighed as he set the paper down next to him on the bed. He would add to it later.
With it being the 6th, it meant that he had around 8 days to befriend and save Griffin. Finney barely knew who Griffin was, only ever hearing his name after the boy had already been kidnapped. It didn't help that all griffin had told Finney was that no one knew who he was when they spoke through that dammed phone. He sighed. In hindsight, Finney knew this was going to be difficult. Out of the 5 other boys that go missing, he only really knows one. On top of that, he had no clue how the fuck he was meant to help Vance, considering how he scares the shit out of Finney. Regardless, he was going to try.
Finney Blake was going to stop those kidnappings, and he was going to do everything in his power to do it.