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Robin's body trembled with exhaustion as he stood in the dark, suffocating basement. Every muscle screamed, but he wasn’t going to give up. Not after everything he had fought through. Not when he had someone to get back to. Finney. The thought of his friend, his brother-in-arms, flashed in his mind. Finney, who had always looked to him for strength, who needed him to make it out of this nightmare. He couldn’t fail him. Not now.
The door creaked open, and The Grabber’s masked figure stepped into the light. His deliberate movements were slow, methodical, each step echoing in Robin’s head like a countdown. Robin swallowed hard, fists clenched, eyes locked on the man who had made this place a living hell.
“You’re really trying, aren’t you?” The Grabber’s mocking tone made Robin’s blood boil. He thought of Finney again. The two of them walking to school together, playing games, the way he promised to always have Finney’s back.
“I’ll escape. For you.” He whispered, fists clenching tighter as determination ignited within him. Memories of laughter and dreams filled his mind, urging him to fight. He wouldn’t let fear win — Finney was waiting, and he wouldn’t let him down.
Without hesitation, Robin charged, his body moving on pure instinct and desperation. His fist collided with The Grabber’s mask, the sharp crack of bone against hard plastic echoing through the basement. The Grabber staggered, but only for a moment. He recovered quickly, throwing his own punch, his brute strength sending Robin crashing into the wall. Robin’s body screamed in pain, but he didn’t care. He had to get out. He had to get back to Finney.
The two fought, grappling in a vicious exchange of blows. Robin fought harder, faster, but The Grabber’s size and strength were overpowering. Robin felt himself losing ground, his energy waning as The Grabber shoved him to the floor.
“You think you can fight me?” The Grabber’s voice was low, filled with twisted satisfaction, “You’re just like all the others.”
Robin’s heart raced, pounding in his chest as exhaustion threatened to pull him down. His mind screamed for him to get up, to keep fighting. Just then, Finney’s face flashed in his mind—hopeful and trusting. Memories of their laughter ignited a spark of determination within him. He couldn’t let Finney down. With every ounce of strength left, Robin pushed against the pain, refusing to surrender. Finney was counting on him, and he would fight to make it back.
“I promised I’d protect you, Finney. I promised…” Robin thought, gritting his teeth as he fought against the overwhelming pain coursing through his body. Each breath felt like fire in his lungs, but he couldn’t let it stop him.
The Grabber stepped back and whistled sharply. Robin’s heart stopped as the sound of claws scratching against the stairs filled the room. Samson, the massive Rottweiler, that has alerted The Grabber of his first attempt of escaping, appeared at the top of the stairs, his growl deep and hungry. The dog's eyes were locked on Robin, a predator ready to strike.
“Finney… I’m sorry.” The thought flickered in Robin’s mind as the dog lunged.
Samson’s jaws clamped down on Robin’s arm with bone-crushing force, the searing pain like nothing he had ever felt before. Robin screamed as the dog’s teeth tore through his flesh, shredding muscle and sinew like paper. The sound of his own bones breaking under the dog’s bite was deafening, followed by the sickening splash of his blood hitting the cold concrete floor. Robin’s body convulsed as Samson ripped at him again, tearing a chunk of flesh from his forearm. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating the dog’s muzzle and splattering across the room. His vision blurred from the pain, his body screaming in agony, but all Robin could think of was Finney. His friend, waiting, needing him.
“I have to go back.” He whimpered through gritted teeth.
Samson lunged again, this time biting into Robin’s thigh, his powerful jaws crushing the muscle, grinding bone. Robin howled, his leg a mess of shredded tissue and torn skin. His body jerked uncontrollably as the dog shook its head, ripping deeper into the wound, blood spurting across the floor in a horrifying display of red.
“Finney…” Robin’s mind clung to the thought of him, his vision dimming as the blood loss took its toll. He tried to push himself up, his hands slipping in his own blood, but his strength was gone. Samson’s teeth tore into him again, this time biting deep into his ribs. The sound of his own bones snapping echoed through his mind, followed by the warm, metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. He coughed, choking on his own blood, unable to scream any more. The pain was too much, his body failing, shutting down.
“I’m sorry, Finney… I couldn’t make it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with regret as the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.
Samson ripped at him one last time, dragging him across the floor, leaving a trail of blood and gore in his wake. Robin’s body was a torn, mangled mess, barely recognizable. His thoughts of Finney grew faint, slipping away as his vision darkened, the last bits of life draining from him.
The last thing Robin heard was The Grabber’s voice, cold and satisfied.
“Good boy.”
And then, silence.