Dawn Chorus (Proxies x Reader)

Little rabbit I am, I waste no time waiting for open paths or new opportunities. Escape must be immediate. I spring from my place near the back wall of the room, launching myself forward with enough effort my leg muscles hurt. Floorboards rush up to meet me. I hit with bruising impact along my palms and knees, jaw clacking shut. I grind my aching teeth as I drag myself underneath his bed. The space between the frame and the floor is so narrow that the boards above squeeze my body and knock against my head. Perfect. He can't grab me if I tuck myself far into the back corner.

I squirm and curl and thrash until I have bundled up nice and tight all the way in the back under the bed. Cold wood presses in on four sides. My new burrow, my new warren under the shadows of Hoodie's bed. My body already cramps and aches, coiling up so tightly when there had already hardly been enough room to breathe when all spread out.

Hoodie walks over slowly, only after the thumps and scratching of my desperate scramble has died down. His footfalls rattle through the floor, vibrate directly against my right ear which presses so hard into the floorboards. My neck hurts from the angle but there is no safe way to reorient myself. My heart hammers ruthlessly, but my breathing is steady and slow and quiet. Hoodie sinks down to the ground across from me. He lays flat along the floorboards, head turned so those red eyes stare at me, glowing against their dark background. He does not try to reach under the bed to pull me out, though he slides so close, his shoulder presses into the bedframe. He raises and scrunches up and down a single finger, like he is waving at me, then he begins an irregular tapping. I bare my teeth at him, snarl and dig deep for an animalistic part of me that turns fear to rage and violence. He chuckles.

The tapping is mind-numbing, meaning I won't let it soothe me, but I am far too aware it is there. I try to find a pattern in the sound, but there is nothing recognizable. Their boss, the woman in the extra living room, that passageway. Mentally, I'm shot. My tolerance for tomfoolery and my patience with my own fear has run thin. Staying present for Hoodie's mockery to ensure it does not turn into torture is not a trivial task. My lips, stitched together by dry skin, give first, parting around more naturally even breathes. Then my legs start to uncurl from the discomfort.

"Are you ready to come out?" Hoodie asks.

I pull my knees back up. The muscles are screaming, now aware of the level of pain digging through them from holding myself so tense. I bare my teeth again, shake my head. Loose hair finds its way into my mouth and I crack my skull against the bedframe. I spit and push out hair with my tongue, and ignore the new pulsing in my skull. I try to press deeper into the wall, melt into the wood.

"Threats work better if the person you are threatening understands them," Tim says.

I nearly jump at his voice, but Hoodie hardly reacts. The monster must be gone, or alone with Toby. Maybe dead. Maybe sprung from her false skin to scramble home and carry out the wishes of a worse monster. Away to lick the wounds of being bested by near-humans. I have my doubts on just how human any of the men are, or more a hierarchy of how far from human they seem to have traveled. Hoodie tilts his head slightly, so his ear is lifted from the ground.

"This way is more fun," he says.

"So no-nothing ab-bout morse c-code?" Toby's voice asks, probably yells by Tim's ear based on the wince that follows.

"No," I admit as my stomach sinks.

"What did you do?" Tim asks.

He creaks along the floorboards and drops down next to Hoodie. He roughly shoves his way into some open space in front of the bed, pushing Hoodie to make more room. He leans down until his face fills the slim gap I can see of the room. I feel like a cat staring at the two shadows just past the bed. Tim tries to reach under the bed, hand swiping along the floor. It is meticulously clean, no forgotten clothes or nicknacks, not even a spec of dust under here. I'm not really sure how Hoodie manages it besides moving his bed. I hope they don't just move the bed. After several long moments of pawing at absolutely nothing, Tim draws his arm back, pressing his face into the gap.