Pretty Little Thing

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Category: F/M
Fandoms: Original Work, No Fandom
Relationships: Kidnapper/Captive, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male
Character(s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Characters: Reader, Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original
Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Kidnapped, Captive, Rape, degrading, Punishment, Threats of Violence,
Handcuffs, Violence, Emotional Manipulation, eventual, Stockholm
Syndrome, Captor is genuinely not a good guy, possibly dead dove but
i'm so demented i don't think it's that deep, Smut, Rape/Non-con
Elements, Older Man/Younger Woman, Face Slapping, Breathplay,
References to Depression, and suicidal thoughts, Rough Sex,
Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Masturbation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat,
Mind Rape, Sadism, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Violent Sex,
Victim Blaming, Forced Orgasm, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Forced
Facial, Fucked Up, Self-Harm, Dehumanization, Non-Consensual
Spanking, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Suicide Attempt, Realistic
Slowburn Stockholm, bc i’m 12 chapters in and the fmc still hates mmc,
Knives, Blood, Drugged Sex, Gaslighting
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-02-11 Updated: 2025-09-23 Words: 93,349 Chapters:
17/?
 Pretty Little Thing
by dementedangel

Summary

She couldn’t even bring herself to say it, but she had to know.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Kill you? Now why would I do that?”

A girl with preexisting depression gets kidnapped, raped, used and held captive by an
obsessed sadist.

Notes

just a little something from my deranged girl mind :)

WARNING // while this is still a story where a girl is raped and held captive, the man in this
story is equally as obsessed with manipulating & worsening her already bad mental health.

some fucked up things are done & said in order for him to achieve that so please look out for
yourself and don’t read at all if it’s heavier than your limits.

(chapters 4 is a retelling of the first two chapters from his pov, the rest are chronological
& labeled as his or her pov in the chapter summary)
 Chapter 1: Day 1: Part I
Chapter Summary

waking up, her pov

Her first thought was that she was unbelievably groggy, even though that word felt like a
gross understatement.

Her thoughts were struggling to piece themselves together, drifting out of touch each time she
tried to unscramble them.

But she knew she should wake up. At least make sure she didn’t sleep through her alarm.

Wow she felt heavy.

She felt herself stir, slowly trying to reach around for her phone.

Trying was as far as she got— her body didn’t seem to care about her brains prompts to
actually move.

‘Wake up, wake up, wake up’

But the words just swirled in her brain, the lure to fall back into a deep sleep proving to be
overwhelming.

She decided she wouldn’t fight it anymore.

If she was this sleepy, perhaps she should let herself sleep.

“Wake up.”

Except the words weren’t hers anymore.

It was hard to think, to blink, to do anything, but she tried her best.

She leaned into the hand on her cheek, finding comfort in the touch through the haze of sleep.

Her vision was blurred as her eyes fluttered around the room, not registering with anything or
anyone in particular.

She decided to scold whoever was waking her up for doing it so early.

“Good girl.” The voice drawled out softly.

Her brain told her that the voice didn’t sound familiar.

She didn’t care. He sounded nice. And she was sleepy.

The voice tutted a sound of disapproval.

“Wake up sweet girl.”

The hand moved to her shoulder and shook gently.

She slowly rose out of a deep haze, body beginning to work with her brain again as she
moved to rub her hands over her face.

Except her hands didn’t move.

Her eyes blinked open enough to see that they couldn’t move.

The haze melted away faster.

Bound. Her hands were bound.

She darted her eyes around the room.

The voice.

Her brain was right, she didn’t recognize it.

Or him.

He sat across from her in a wooden chair, eyeing her intently.

She scrambled to sit up and back away as much as she could, instantly regretting the head
spin it gave her.

“Hey—“ He started, reaching a hand out to try and steady her.

She flinched and immediately pulled away.

“Who are you?” her own voice was now the foreign one, coming out timid and confused.

He didn’t respond, watching her with curiosity.

She took a moment to process her surroundings as the last few spins of her head went away,
immediately realizing something was wrong.

Really, badly, gravely wrong.

She didn’t recognize the man, or where she was.

She quickly surmised that it was a basement, and the bed she was in obviously wasn’t her
own.
Her gaze shifted to the reason why she couldn’t move her hands, making her go rigid.

Silver handcuffs looped between the bars on the metal headboard wrapped tightly around her
wrists, giving her little leeway to move.

They were cold and biting. She wondered what caused her to be so out of it that she didn’t
notice them being placed on her from the beginning.

“You really should be more careful.” He started easily.

“I had to give you a lot of—well. Let’s not worry about that. I don’t want to confuse your
pretty little head with any big words.”

A primal shock coursed through her entire nervous system, the magnitude unlike any anxiety
she experienced before waking up here.

Her mind flashed a dark red Danger, Danger, Danger. The sudden surge in her heart felt
worse than anything she imagined a heart attack to be.

Maybe this was a joke...? A prank? A dream?

“What’s going on?” her voice laced with panic.

He ignored her again.

”You should drink something.”

Her eyes followed his gaze to the cup of water on the stand not too far from the bed.

She wasn’t taking anything from him.

She realized she said it out loud.

He laughed in response, making her current situation feel even more eerie.

“Silly girl.” He smiled. “I already have you. I don’t need to drug you.”

He visibly reconsidered his words, slightly tilting his head in thought. “Not again anyway.”

What the fuck. What the fuck.

The spinning came back to her head as she began to loudly hyperventilate, desperate for any
answers.

“What is going on?” she asked again through heaving breaths.

He leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his thighs, fingers interlocking before
he placed his chin on his hands.

He looked deep in thought, yet she found him completely unreadable. All she could sense
was a crushing feeling of dread, feeling exposed in the spotlight of his attention.
She could feel the bad intentions he had for her.

“I’ve thought about how I was going to answer that.” He pondered and gave up the thought,
sitting back in his chair to open the floor to her.

“What do you think is going on?”

“I— I don’t know—are you—“ she stumbled over her own panic.

She couldn’t bring herself to say it, but she had to know.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Kill you? Now why would I do that?”

I don’t know, because you drugged and bound me to a bed?

She stayed silent this time instead.

“I don’t want to kill you.“ He continued. “You should be considering this as me saving you,
actually.”

She didn’t know what he meant, and his response left very few options.

The bed and the handcuffs now made a little bit more sense.

She cried before she realized it, mind racing with a million different questions and outcomes
all at once.

“You can’t do this—” she shook her head in rambling disbelief and wriggled at the handcuffs.
“I’m not property you can’t just take me! I’m a person I have a family—I—I have friends I
—“

“It happens all the time.” He stood up and nonchalantly interrupted her manic ranting,
moving to reach a hand to the knees bent to her chest.

She whimpered and flinched away from him, curling towards the top of the bed even further
as she shook her head again.

"No-" she whined.

“Yes.” He insisted. “People go missing, and people die.”

She visibly buzzed at that word.

“But you’re here now. And I’m not going to kill you. I have other plans.”

Somehow that didn’t bring her much comfort.

“You’re one of the lucky ones, you know.” He added matter of factly.
”Most girls get their bodies dumped in the nearest ditch.”

Her heart skipped wildly.

“You’re fucking crazy—” she wept in disbelief.

“Let me go you can’t just keep me here! I wanna go home—“ she broke down in wracking
sobs, tugging harder on the nearly too tight handcuffs.

She could only imagine how she looked right now. Terribly desperate. Terribly scared.
Cornered.

She continued backing away towards the top of the bed like a cornered mouse, as much as the
handcuffs would allow.

”Please—”

He ignored her cries and put a hand on her knee, thumb rubbing slow over her skin.

She wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. Comfort her? The thought of something else made
her heart race with even more terror.

She screeched at him and harshly yanked on the handcuffs, wriggling away from his touch
and violently kicking her legs out at him.

“Stop.” He straightened up and pulled away.

Her wails got louder as she futilely tried to free herself.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

“Stop.” He demanded again.

She didn’t register that he was speaking until he wrestled her kicking legs flat on the bed,
quickly moving to straddle her thighs.

”Nono no —“

“Fucking STOP.” He clasped a hand over her mouth, and her survival instincts told her to
bite him.

She immediately wished she didn’t.

He didn’t wince away in pain like she hoped, instead it earned her a rough hand across the
face, unfairly harder than she bit him.

Her wild thrashes abruptly stopped as she sucked in a breath.

She couldn’t recall a single time in her life that anyone had ever hit her, let alone so savagely.

It stung. It ached. It felt like the air was slapped out of her body.
She couldn't fully slow her sobs, barely able to slow them down enough to try and put the air
back into her lungs.

How was this happening to her? How could this be real?

He replaced his hand over her mouth then dropped his face close to hers, his tone low and
menacing

“Don’t. Even think about trying that again.”

She shook underneath him and closed her eyes, desperately clinging to the hope that she was
still dreaming.

He sighed with impatience as if her reaction to being kidnapped was unreasonable.

“You wanna scream so bad?” He taunted. “Fine. Go ahead.”

She shuddered as he removed his hand from her mouth, lips trembling in its wake.

It felt like a trap; like her screams would only make him angry, or bring him some sort of
demented joy. Something was telling her she wouldn’t be heard by anyone but him even if
she did.

Nearly every avenue of survival available to her had been exhausted, all but one. She began
pleading before she realized it, desperate for escape like a bunny finally caught by its
predator.

"Please—“ she sniffled honestly. “I’m scared. I’m so so scared. I just wanna go home—“

“Sweet girl,” He moved to place a hand over her still stinging cheek. “I know you are.”

Her head was spinning. Whether it was from the drugs, being hit, or his instant change in
demeanor, she wasn’t sure. She just wanted to be let go.

“But that’s not happening.” He gently shook his head with understanding as if he was
speaking to a child sobbing over candy.

“You have no idea how much has happened to get to this moment. All the prepping…” His
voice trailed off as he looked around the basement.

“Let’s just say those drugs were expensive. And—you’re fairly more popular than you may
believe. There was never a moment that you were truly alone.”

He looked down at her with admiration, smiling at the sight of her bound hands. “Until last
night.”

“Why?” she whimpered, her head slowly blossoming into a throb after the blow to her face.
“Why are you doing this?”
He placed his hands on either side of her and slid down her body, positioning himself to be
closer to her face.

“Because,” He started, slipping his hand between the two of them and snaking it under her
thigh.

“I watched you at your job. You never seemed truly happy.” He lifted her other thigh and
continued.

“You’d give the prettiest smile to everyone. The most gorgeous sounding ‘have a wonderful
day’. Then go right back to looking despondent.”

Her blood went cold as she realized he was nestling himself between her thighs.

He’d been watching her.

“So if you’d like to,” He continued his movements, “Use that as your “why”. Consider this as
me taking you away from such a sad existence.”

“I wasn’t sad—“ she started softly, the amount of tears threatening to follow making her
throat ache.

“Hm.” He countered. “Well, the antidepressants in your bag tell a different story.”

She pursed her trembling lips together in a loss for words. He seemed so bold in speaking
about her own life, so confident— and it wasn’t any of his business.

Why did he care?

“It doesn’t fucking matter.” she spat. “There’s people out there that’ll look for me and—“

“I know, I know.” He dismissed.

“You had a family. You had friends. But maybe they haven’t noticed that you’re gone.
Maybe they don’t care. Maybe they already put you all over the evening news. It doesn’t
matter.”

“What it won’t change, is the fact that you’re here. And that I found everything about you to
be perfect from the moment I saw you. I can break you—“ He adjusted again so his hips
pressed between her now spread legs.

“Then put you back together just enough to do it again.”

He put his face so close to hers that she could feel the steadiness of his breathing,
exponentially calmer than her own.

She tried to shy away from his gaze but he held her chin level with his, leaving her nowhere
else to look but in his eyes.

“And for so long I've wanted to know what sounds you'd make for me."
There was nothing else she could do in the moment but scream, then scream even more
because there was nothing that it would do.

The handcuffs loudly clanged on the metal as she thrashed, cursing the entire world in her
head.

"Let me go!" she started up again. "Please I won't say anything please-"

"Oh I know you won't." He pacified. "Because you're not leaving."

Her sobs grew louder as she shook harder underneath his weight.

"Get off of me you fucking psycho-" she reverted back to manic terror.

"Just because you don't have a life doesn't mean you get to take me you fucking los-"

He snatched her jaw in his hand so hard that the bruises wouldn't be far behind.

"You've got a mouth on you." He observed. "Keep going. I’ll give you something to do with
it."

She stopped yelling but remained in distress, making him roll his eyes with impatience.

"I haven't even touched you yet." He released his grip on her jaw slightly.

"Contrary to what you made me do, I don't get off on hurting you." He tilted his head again
slightly, mulling over his words.

"I won't solely get off on hurting you." He corrected.

"So just remember that if you want to fight me, if that's the route you want to take, I'll make
you wish you were one of those girls who get found in a ditch. Understand?"

She gave up her fight as his body pinned hers into the bed, only giving him a frightened
whimper in response.

"Hey." He snapped firmly. "Snap out of it."

"Do you understand?” He enunciated his words patronizingly slow and firm.

Her face was splotchy and wet, her nose was clogged and running, and her hair was wild
from thrashing around.

She knew she must have looked exactly how she felt as she nodded.

Helpless and pathetic.

"Good girl."
 Chapter 2: Day 1: Part II
Chapter Summary

“first time”, her pov

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Oh come on he’s sooo hot!” Her friend laid on her stomach as she kicked her socks back
and forth in the air.

“Ew no,” She glanced up at her tv. “His character’s creepy, and I’m honestly surprised he
hasn’t raped Claire yet.”

Her friend nibbled on her pencil eraser and shrugged. “Yeah you’re right. But the actor’s
still pretty cute though.”

“I hope they don’t write that into the show” She shook her head and turned back to her
homework. “That’s like my worst fear ever”

Her friend raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s your worst fear? Not … being trapped in a fire?
Buried alive? Freak accident?”

“Well I’m not saying it’s my number one fear but… doesn’t the thought scare you? Not even
just the physical pain but… I don’t know. I don’t think I could ever be the same person if that
happened to me.”

Her friend noticed the thought worrying in her mind, moving to nudge her knee to get her
attention.

“Well the good news is that’s never going to happen to you.” She consoled. “I mean, how
many people have their worst fear come true anyway? ”

________

He shifted his hand to cup the side of her face and grazed a thumb over her lips, the look in
his eyes now changed to something darker; a glint of what she tried to convince herself
wasn’t joy shining behind them.

“Good girl.”
If she made it out of this alive, she’d never want to hear those words again.

She laid held underneath the weight of his lower body pressed against hers, trying to find
some semblance of breathing that didn’t make her feel like she was drowning.

“You’re shaking so much.” He tsked. “And I still haven’t touched you yet.”

Her shuddering stopped as she froze, suddenly all too aware of the hardening between the
two of them.

He tilted his head with taunting curiosity, his eyes never leaving her own.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

She didn’t bother hiding the fear that welled up when he smiled at her immediately
whimpered “no”.

“No?” He shook his head with fake remorse. “Well that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

She let out a small whimper of fear before trying to yank her face away from his gaze, but the
grip on her jaw remained.

Her head began to ache and spin even more.

She didn’t know how she was still alive. Not because of something he’d do to take her life
like she anticipated he would, but because it didn’t seem humanly possible to feel so much
terror and still be alive.

It wasn’t just the fact that she was actually taken.

Something about him petrified her so terribly, it rang throughout her entire nervous system.

The way he stared at her was piercing and greedy like he was seeing her, but not actually
seeing her.

She wished he wouldn’t follow through with what he was clearly heading towards, but she
knew that’s all it would be. Just a wish.

A wish to not experience the one thing she never wanted to experience.

She moved her legs from under him, trying to get away from the bulge pressed to her core.

He looked in between them and smiled.

“Feel that?” He ground his hips down into hers. “That’s all your fault.”

“Please—“ she whispered.

He sat up to slide his hand down her chest, face hovering above hers as he leaned his weight
onto his free hand.
“Shhh—“ He soothed. His hand smoothed over her stomach, the thin material of her t-shirt
rising slowly.

He was abnormally focused on her body, admiring every part of her skin as the fabric hitched
just above her navel.

“So fucking perfect.” He whispered.

The way he shushed her didn’t sound like a command, but the stinging on her cheek was
enough to keep her quiet.

She whimpered and sniffled instead, the sound breaking his focus.

His eyes flicked up to hers with an expression that she couldn’t read.

For a moment he looked like he was thinking of what to do next but let it go, chuckling to
himself with a smile.

“What’s got you so scared?” He sat up slightly and began to gently undo the button on her
jeans. “There’s much worse I could have done to you by now. You’re a smart girl. I know you
know that.”

She didn’t know how to answer him, unsure if he was taunting her or genuinely couldn’t
fathom why she was terrified.

“I—I wanna go home—”

“That’s not what I asked you.” His tone switched to something firm.

She tended as he began to slowly undo the zipper on her jeans, back to admiring the way she
squirmed even at his indirect touch.

“And you might have an easier time if you get whatever you consider ‘home’ out of your
head.”

He stared into her eyes again, red from panic and tears that still fell down the sides of her
face silently.

“You took me,” she sobbed with honesty. “I don’t know where I am and you hurt me—”

“Sweet girl.” He shook his head with a grin and curled his fingers into the waistband of her
jeans.

“You don’t know pain if you think I’ve already hurt you.”

She trembled.

“But it’s okay.” He assured her before she could respond. “You’ll learn.”
She wept more at his words, wriggling as he slowly began lifting his weight off of her
completely.

The handcuffs ached her wrists from twisting and yanking, undoubtedly already littered with
bruises.

She wanted them off. Wanted him off.

She didn’t want to be there. She didn’t want him touching her. She didn’t want to be held
against her will.

He moved to slide her jeans off, hands pulling at the handcuffs as if she could push him off.

She decided on kicking him again, the unknown drugs in her system gradually wearing off
enough for accurate aim.

For a moment, she was triumphant.

A flurry of sharp kicks went in his direction, catching him by surprise.

But he immediately proved to be stronger, climbing over her so quickly that she wasn’t sure
if any of them landed.

His weight pinned her legs down as she screamed, hoping somehow, maybe she was wrong
about someone being able to hear her.

Another rough slap across the face made her screams turn to sobs.

“What—“ He paused to force a hand over her mouth and nose. “Did I tell you about doing
that?”

His hand pushed so heavily over her face that she couldn’t bite him again if she tried— and
now she couldn’t breathe at all.

He admired her struggle for a moment before sighing.

“I meant what I said.” He continued. “There is much worse I could’ve done to you by now.
Break your finger, slice you open, pull out some of those teeth that apparently—you like to
use.”

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, fear so strong she felt paralyzed.

“All good things,” He continued easily. “Things that would work. But I don’t think that’s
what you need.”

Her chest began spasming without air, struggling to breathe through terror now a more
appealing option.

He lowered his face to hers, his voice low and calculated.

“You can lie to me if you want, but you were sad. You always seemed so, so sad. Maybe you
even thought about dying a few times. But we both know you don’t want to die. Not really.
Not yet.”

He lifted his hand away from her mouth for a brief second, barely enough for her to suck in a
breath before replacing it tightly.

“So for now, every time you tell me no, try to hit me, do something that is even slightly less
of what I told you to do, you’re not gonna breathe.”

He closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure, visibly reveling in the control of whether or not
she breathed.

"Maybe you’ll even grow to value your life a little more. Or the opposite. But as soon as you
start wishing for death, I’ll make things easier for you. Then I’ll take you back there. Make
you wish for it over and over, until I’m the only thing that you know is certain.”

His words started overlapping themselves like they did when she first woke up, her eyelids
fluttering closed softly.

He removed his hand as her body jolted to breathe, but not before he could slap her one more
time.

She gasped and coughed as tears spilled from her eyes, choking on nothing while the
darkness faded from the corners of her eyes.

He took advantage of her coughing fit and slid down her body, yanking down her jeans and
tossing them to the side.

She whimpered in fear at the realization that he was undressing himself too.

She’d never felt so defeated in her life.

There was nothing she could do.

When she got angry, he hit her.

When she tried to fight him, he took away her ability to breathe.

“I— I’m sorry I kicked you.” she tried fearfully.

He didn’t respond, only turning to carelessly toss his last piece of clothing to the side.

“Please—” she whined, pulling her knees towards her. “I don’t want this. I don’t want—“

He moved back onto the bed and hovered over her now nude body, nudging her legs open
with his knee.

“What do you not want?” He asked gently, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “It’s
not like this is your first time.”
“I don’t want you to hurt me,” she cried. “I’m scared and… I just wanna go home—
Please…” she shook her head back and forth and sobbed, her words barely understandable.

His right hand went up to his mouth before snaking it between the two of them, fingers
finding her clit like he’d done it a million times before.

She jumped at the touch and pulled away from him before she could consider the
consequences, immediately earning her another firm hand over her nose and mouth.

He watched her writhe for air as he rubbed slow circles into her, taking advantage the distress
only making her legs open wider.

His hand slipped away after a few moments, but the circles over her clit sped up.

She gasped for air and twisted her hands in the handcuffs.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He questioned. “Please keep going?”

“No-n-no,” she shook her head. “Please stop.”

He placed his face close to hers and continued rubbing her clit firmly.

“You don’t want this, do you?” He soothed with a low voice.

For a moment his voice was so soft she felt understood; like if it were anyone else she
could’ve buried her head in their shoulder and cried.

She wept and whimpered a barely audible no, too scared to think about what he’d do if she
looked away.

“Huh.” He stopped rubbing her clit to run his fingers slowly over her slit, slightly dipping a
finger into her before pulling it out.

“It doesn’t look like your body got that memo.”

She shuddered as she watched his fingers pull away wet.

He partially tasted the wetness on his fingers then spit on them, hand lowering once again to
stroke himself close to her entrance.

She pulled away and pushed her thighs together while he was still between them, catching a
glimpse of what he was going to put inside her.

He was right, this wasn’t the first time she’d had sex. But neither of the two guys she had
been with looked so big, and this wasn’t sex.

This was far from anything like those other times.

She closed her legs desperately and repeated to herself that she’d just imagined it. All of it.
She’d wake up in her bed soon, safe and alive and untouched.

He caught her immediately, swatting her thigh and placing the hand that wasn’t stroking
himself over her mouth and nose.

“Open.”

There was still some semblance of fight in her.

One that told her if she did move her legs, then all of the worst that she never wanted to
experience would happen.

But she couldn’t not breathe.

She didn’t want to die, not really.

He pushed her so far the last time, and there was nothing ensuring her that he’d stop before it
was too late.

Her lungs were aching now.

“Either you open them on your own, or you pass out and I open them for you.” He continued
to watch her writhe as his strokes became more firm.

“It’s your choice sweet girl.”

Her survival instincts answered for her, legs spreading just enough for him to force them
open wider.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Now look at me.”

Her eyes moved to his, her peripheral vision catching that he’d already lined himself up
between her thighs.

By then it was too late.

________

Her vision turned black.

She hoped she’d never feel this amount of pain ever again.

At first, she was sure that she was dying.

And yet, she didn’t scream like she thought she would.

The sound that came out instead was something broken, a choked wail of agony.
Her hands pulled so hard on the handcuffs that she was sure they’d break from the headboard,
but they never did.

It was hard for her to catch her breath, to feel like she was in her body again, even though the
pain made it viscerally clear that she already was.

She hyperventilated and involuntarily squeezed around him, her body struggling to adjust to
the sudden intrusion.

Her eyes went blurry with falling tears as she opened them just enough to see him, paused in
his movement and cursing under his breath.

He wasn’t fully inside her yet, and she struggled.

He shook himself from his initial bliss with a satisfied sigh, pulling her hips into his as he
forced the rest of himself inside of her.

She jolted at the pain and sobbed.

“What’s wrong?” He tsked, rubbing a thumb over her wet cheek.

All she could do was cry. Something raw and loud, that didn’t even begin to touch the pain at
all.

“Use your words.” He added apathetically.

She sniffled and heaved with a pained whine, finally able to string words together after what
felt like an eternity.

“Please—I-it, it really hurts,” she broke down in wracking sobs again.

He smiled at her words. “My pretty little thing—”

His eyes went dark.

“I know it does.”

There was nothing to focus on but the pain, his hips pulling away and snapping back into hers
harshly.

He was impossibly deep inside of her, hitting her cervix and forcing it to make room for his
cock—whether it fit or not.

“Fuck—“ He groaned, free hand sliding into her bra and groping her chest harshly.

“You’re so perfect…” He praised with a sigh of pleasure, “So fucking good.”

She felt sick.

It didn’t help that it felt like each thrust of his cock was hitting her stomach.
He leaned close to her face and slipped a hand behind her neck, his other pulling her hips up
before settling on deeper pace.

She squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed.

“No.” He scolded. “Look at me.”

She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

His other hand clamped down over her nose and mouth, making her open her eyes.

But he still didn’t let go.

“Look at you,” his hips slammed into her. “Taking my cock like you were made for it.”

Her eyes stayed trained on his, bloodshot and crying for air.

“I’m gonna use your cunt so much, so, so much every fucking day—“ his voice strained
heavy with moans. “You’re mine.”

“Say it.” He demanded.

He still didn’t move his hand away, hips rolling into hers exactly how he needed it.

“If you want to breathe, you’re gonna fucking say it.”

His hand moved after a few thrusts, giving her a split second to catch her breath.

“I’m—“ the pain of a particularly rough thrust pounded the word out of her.

“I’m yours” she choked out.

“Mhm,” He grinned. “Good girl.”

He pulled away to place his hands on either side of her head, looking down to watch her twist
and weep in pain.

“Spread your legs wider.” He instructed impatiently.

He looked dazed and euphoric, wrapping a hand around her neck and squeezing.

She wished to god that she wasn’t adding to his pleasure, but her bodies yearn to breathe
made her hips writhe against his.

His eyes closed at the sensation, a low growl escaping his lips. “Yes—“ He encouraged.
“Good girl.”

He let go and she twisted over as much as she could gasping for air, instantly regretting it.

He pulled out sharply and flipped her the rest of the way onto her stomach, her hands twisted
awkward and painful in the handcuffs.
His hand swatted her ass harshly.

He was back on her in a split second, lining his cock up with her wet and bruised hole.

"Keep it up just like this.”

He pulled up her hips and made her back arch slightly, his cock sinking back into her with
enough force to jolt her entire body forward.

This pace was more painful than the previous one, her face burying further into the pillow to
silence her cries.

He clearly wanted to hear it, yanking her up by her hair harshly before pulling an arm around
her neck.

She was thankful that this time he wasn’t choking her, but his arm was firm. Every time he
thrusted into her she couldn’t move away.

Her cries turned into wails, which only seemed to make him go harder.

“H—n-please-“ she squeaked in between thrusts.

He put his lips against her ear and shushed her, letting her catch her breath before thrusting
into her with as much force as he could.

She couldn’t do anything else but sit in the pain for a while.

His thrusts grew sharper and impossibly deeper, a low string of curses and groans the only
thing she could hear.

Her mind became fuzzier. She thinks he mentioned something about her belonging to him
again, how perfect she was and how the way she felt around his cock was worth any wait he
endured—but she slowly began to drift away.

His hand slipped over her mouth as her tears picked up again.

“So fucking pretty.” He groaned.

His thrusts were now sloppy and uneven, but somehow even more sharp.

Before her brain could catch up to its own thoughts she felt an abrupt wetness between her
legs, one that wasn’t there before.

He stayed inside her to catch his breath the world now spinning for the both of them.

With his breath finally caught after several satisfied sighs he moved, slipping his hand from
her mouth before pressing slow open mouthed kisses to any skin that he could reach.

She felt like he drugged her again, only this time she was still awake.

But she wasn’t all there— not fully, not in the way she was before.
He pulled out of her slowly and moved to stand up, the endless dam of tears inside of her
body breaking once again.

She slowly shifted back to her side and curled into a ball as he pulled his pants back on,
tossing his T-shirt somewhere next to her.

He dug into his pocket for something she wasn’t paying attention to, then brought them up to
the handcuffs.

She suddenly became aware of her wrists as he freed them, the ache of the metal aching
down to her bones.

“Sit up.” He instructed.

She was still dazed, obeying him without considering what he was going to ask her to do
next.

“Take that off.” He gestured to her disheveled shirt and bra peeking out underneath. “And put
this on.”

She stared at the gray t-shirt then back up to him blankly, visibly unable keep up with more
than one request.

He must’ve noticed it too because he moved to pull her t-shirt over her head, discarding it in
the same way he previously did his own.

“Take that off.”

She looked down at her bra and wiped her tears for the first time since she woke up, moving
to unclasp it and immediately wrap her arms around herself.

He licked his lips in thought and reached for his shirt, putting it on her himself.

She half expected him to grope her or yank it onto her roughly, surprised to find that his
touch was gentle.

It would’ve been a nice gesture in any other scenario, his hands moving to pull hers up and
into the arms of the shirt before lightly pulling it over her stomach.

He took advantage of her daze and looped the handcuffs through the headboard, her wrists
rebound as she sat and stared blankly.

Her eyes glossed the room, landing on nothing in particular before slowly—slowly, the
realization of everything that happened sunk in.

She suddenly sobbed and shook her head in disbelief, a chest tightening awareness growing
by the second.

It was real.
“No no no—“ she wept and shook her head inconsolably.

He moved to kneel in front of her, placing his hands firmly on either side of her face.

She tried to move away from him, but his grip was stronger than hers.

“I wanna go home. I want to go home.”

Maybe if she said it enough, he’d understand.

“I want to go home.”

“Hey,” He interrupted firmly with fake concern, shaking her head once to get her attention.
“You’re okay.”

She continued rambling to herself and trying to pull away from his grasp, but he was too
strong.

“Stop.” He interjected. “Look at me.”

She paused her rambles and sniffled, tears still rolling down her face as she finally looked
into his eyes.

“I want to go home.” she repeated.

“You are home.” He consoled. “It’s better for the both of us that you’re here.”

She whimpered and shook her head in disbelief, her voice coming out in a broken whisper.
“Please let me go. You hurt me.”

“I did.” He replied easily. “But eventually, you’ll see it’s better that I gave you physical pain
instead of letting you only feel it emotionally.”

He wasn’t making sense. She wished she would’ve came out of her daze fast enough to run
while she wasn’t handcuffed.

“I need you to do one more thing for me, and then you can rest.”

She didn’t ask him what it was, silently wondering what else he could possibly want from her
that he didn’t already take.

“Tell me you love me.”

Her blood went cold.

He noticed her hesitation, a small smile ghosting over his face.

“Before you answer, I’ll give you two choices. Say it on your own, or I’ll do everything I just
did to you again.”
She felt a deep ache inside of her at his words, the pain of him fucking her still prominent and
deep.

“Only this time— I’ll take my time letting you breathe again until you say it. It’s your choice.
I’m fine with either.”

For a moment she thought he might be joking, but his eyes were firm, and his gaze never
faltered.

“If I say it will you let me go?” she whispered.

His eyes shone something so quickly that she couldn’t read what was behind it.

“Well you’d have to say it first, wouldn’t you?”

She considered it for a moment, thinking of everything she’d been through since she woke
up.

Her eyes finally landed on his after briefly scanning the room again.

“I love you.” she murmured softly.

“Good.” He nodded, visibly satisfied with her decision. “Do you see that wall over there?”

She sniffled and followed his gaze to a cement wall not too far from the bed, nodding slowly
before turning back to him.

“Ask me to let you go again, and I’ll bash your skull into it until you can’t stand on your own
two feet.”

His words instantly made her sob again.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before getting up to head toward the stairs, his voice
remaining just as calm as it was when he threatened her.

“You should rest.” He addressed her current state indifferently. “I’ll be back to give you a
bath.”

She struggled to breathe now more than ever before, curling into a ball and hyperventilating.

The sound of the basement door closing made her jump, the overwhelming feeling of defeat
and despair crashing over her again.

Her tears spilled wildly.

She hated him. She hated him.

As the sparse sunlight faded and the pale-yellow light bulbs in the basement got brighter, she
noticed the bathroom in the corner.

He would have to uncuff her from the bed in order to bathe her.
 A slight tinge of hope rose in her chest.

She couldn’t fight him while she was handcuffed, but maybe she could if she wasn’t.

Chapter End Notes

the next chapter will either be a continuation of this one, or a rewrite of this chapter
from his point of view... maybe both?

thx for reading <3

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 3: Their Beginning
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

He’d always wondered where it came from, and where it all started.

He tried to search for the “why” valiantly throughout high school when the fantasies first
started, and all throughout college.

But self reflection was always a bore to him, and eventually the morbid thoughts became
normal.

His desires were best left hidden, and he made a loose agreement with himself that he’d only
let it show through the lens of whatever society deemed to be acceptable.

Of course there were a few small slip ups, like when his high school girlfriend was bent over
his bathroom counter and he found the whimpers of a girl begging him not to be so rough to
be the most intoxicating thing in the world.

Or when he got to college and girls were more adventurous, more broken, and the first one
who let him try his hand at choking had her safety taps ignored just a bit longer than she
preferred.

Despite the thrall of firsts he hid his urges well, and he did well for himself.

There wasn't an exorbitant amount of joy in analyzing what would make companies more
successful, writing up several documents that included a thorough analysis, then convincing
the bosses of such, but they always seemed to take what he said as gospel.

Contrary to how it would probably make sense for his personality to be, he didn’t mind social
interaction. He found that his personality was dominant, and many all of the men around him
were far from it.

He always knew what he was talking about.

Sometimes he wondered if he was narcissistic, but he didn’t consider himself to be. And he
wasn’t a teenaged girl; he didn’t care enough to take an online quiz.

Self reflection was boring.

He decided to live normally, opting not to dissect anything but his work.

He owned his home because he hated the hamster wheel of rent and being indebted to
someone, and spent a lot of his free time working on home improvement.

It wasn’t that it needed improvement; he lived in a rather affluent part of his town.
But he didn’t have a girlfriend to pour all of his time into, nor did he really want one. He
liked the occasional hookup, but made sure dates were few and far in between.

Instead he kept up with his work and other miscellaneous hobbies, and spent his free time
with his friends, bar hopping and playing (unnecessarily competitive) pool when they had the
time.

Overall, his life was normal for that of a man in his thirties, and fairly better.

Sure, the thought would sometimes cross his mind of how good the random women who
flirted in his presence would struggle for him, but he wouldn’t have to force them.

There was no excitement for him in consent, especially not in enthusiastic consent.

Unfortunately it led to fairly vanilla sex for him, but if he was lucky some girl with
unresolved trauma would be into something a bit more.

At the most it would be a slap, choking, (which, he began to no longer enjoy as it required a
lot of restraint on his part) or pain that served no real purpose but for the girl to have marks to
show off.

Even then, it was all something they wanted.

He found himself increasingly frustrated in every area of his life lately, his mind always
drifting back to the fantasy of using and making someone his.

But these were just urges and thoughts.

Concerning, illegal if acted upon, and if you were an even slightly decent person— abhorrent
thoughts.

Just thoughts.

He’d keep it that way.

No girl was worth risking his entire reputation, freedom, career, and life for.

And he believed it for years, truly he did.

Until he met her.

__

As cheesy as it seemed, he still believes it was fate.

The day he first met her, his mind ruminated with thoughts of control and restraint, so much
so that he decided the only solution was to get out of the house.
He let out a sigh of frustration after closing the driver door to his car a bit harder than he
intended to, running a heavy hand over his face before quickly typing “home improvement”
into the gps.

He scrolled the results aimlessly and picked a random store out of the city, deciding a longer
drive in addition to burying himself in another project was a better option than pining for
something he wouldn’t attain.

Not even five minutes into the drive his mind wandered, stuck on a particular fantasy that for
years had been painted all too vivid in his mind.

He longed to be draped over a woman’s figure, small and emboldened, but not strong enough
to successfully fight him off.

Of course he could handle and enjoy a woman who was stronger putting up a fight; he did
keep up with his health especially in terms of exercising.

No, it wasn’t solely the idea of a struggle that drove him crazy, but also the hope fading in the
eyes of a girl who already knew she wouldn’t win.

That’s what he craved. Helplessness.

And by extension, hopelessness.

He always found there to be something so fascinating and strikingly beautiful about it.

Perhaps it was because he himself had never felt that way, but the things he’d do to a girl who
did …. fuck.

A loud horn tore him from his thoughts as he began driving into the opposite lane, quickly
correcting his wheel and continuing straight.

He sighed with the realization that he again got too deep into his thoughts and turned on the
radio, not paying attention to what was playing.

His thoughts flooded back.

As twisted as he knew those particular desires were, that’s what kept him up most nights.

A girl so displeased with her own life that she sometimes secretly pondered why it was so
important for her to still be alive.

To him, she’d be very useful, and her life would have an inexplicable amount of importance.

Not in the way that she could have ever anticipated, and if in some world he ever did fulfill
his fantasies, that girl would be likely to think he hated her or wanted her dead.

But he wouldn’t.

He would care about her a great deal actually, in his own way.
Despite all the things he’d do, he wouldn’t let anything truly detrimental happen to her;
especially something as permanent as death.

The thought of possessing so much control that he could make her stand on the mental ledge
over and over wasn’t something he‘d take lightly.

Intertwined with using her in any way and as much as he wanted; that’s what he truly craved.

He ignored the hardening in his pants and rolled down the window, letting the cold air
distract him from his thoughts for the rest of the drive.

Then all of a sudden, there she was.

It wasn’t that abrupt, but to him it was.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the drive, parking his car a little a ways from the shop
entrance, or being greeted by the worker he’d admittedly ignored at the door.

His image of her starts when he’s browsing the shelves aimlessly, head still full of fantasies
of fostering sadness and despair.

And there she stood, not too far from him in a section labeled ‘FABRIC’, mindlessly
measuring a piece of cloth and oblivious to her surroundings.

He stared for a while. He wasn’t sure for how long, but she never noticed.

Something about her look seemed far off, her hands gently folding up the piece of cloth and
putting it to the side.

She couldn’t have been any older than early twenties, wearing a plain t-shirt, jeans, and the
yellow apron he assumed to be part of the uniform here.

Terrible color choice on managements part, but it looked good on her.

He couldn’t help but notice the brightness of it appeared to be the exact opposite of her
demeanor.

Even without the despondency that he was so painfully drawn to, she was still a strikingly
beautiful girl.

Feminine and soft, no makeup or painted nails, just a simple necklace and a couple of rings
on her delicate fingers.

He didn’t mind makeup or nails, that was far from what he was concerned about.

But the fact that she didn’t put a lot of effort into her appearance as most people did before
work was telling.

He could already picture her only showering and putting on clean clothes before leaving for
work, not feeling as if she had anyone to impress.
And not because she was passionate about individualism and presenting herself how she
wanted to in the world; no. There was something underneath it.

She didn’t do anything extra because she didn’t have the mental energy to do more than the
minimum of what was expected.

A bold assessment on his part, maybe.

But that’s also what he did for a living, and he’d grown successful because of it.

He approached her before he considered why he was doing it, setting down the (also bright,
ugly yellow) hand cart on the counter in front of her.

“Do you happen to know if you have any SD connector screws?”

She jumped at his sudden presence, making him fight back a smile at how even more
attracted to her it made him feel.

“Oh—I’m sorry sir.” she started too quickly with a nervous laugh. “You scared me.”

Sir. He was used to hearing that in life, especially in his line of work.

But somehow it felt perfect coming from her.

“I apologize.” He smiled.

“It’s okay.” she gave him a nervous one in return before turning. “They’re right over here.”

He followed and marveled at her as he did, rounding a couple twists and corners before they
reached an expansive selection of screws and hardware.

She looked through the array of screws that would’ve appeared all the same to the untrained
eye, moving to reach for the top shelf.

Her shirt rose slightly with the movement, the peek of her skin appearing so so soft.

It made him feel like a desperate teenager, his breath hitching in his throat as he continued to
watch her.

She hummed to herself after realizing she picked up the wrong one, lowering onto her knees
before reaching for the correct box of screws.

“I’m not sure what size you need,” she reached out from her place on the floor to pass it to
him, “but this is the one that’s purchased the most.”

“Thank you.” He smiled for reasons she was oblivious to, dropping it in the cart.

“You’re quite knowledgeable.” He observed.

“Oh. thanks.” she looked up at him with a shy smile.

He deserved a gold metal for restraint. The visual of her sitting on her knees for him —albeit
innocently and some distance away— made him feel feral to a degree he’d never felt before.

He couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt, like she was meant to be there.

”I know I don’t look like it,” she continued with a self deprecating shrug—

God she was perfect…..

“—but I used to work up here.”

“What happened?” He was genuinely curious, wanting to find out anything about her that he
possibly could.

She shook her hands of dust and wiped them over her apron.

“I dunno.” she stood up. “I’m not… the best with people. Haven’t been for awhile anyway.”

She got up to her feet and looked like she shared a bit more than she wanted to, and he
quickly identified it as social anxiety.

Adorable.

He didn’t push it.

“Happens to the best of us.” He mollified. “I appreciate your help.”

She seemed grateful and smiled.

“You’re welcome sir, have a wonderful day.”

With that she turned and went back to her own corner of the store, his mind running rampant
with the even darker side of his thoughts.

Most of them so dark, that he hadn’t had them in a while.

She smelled of something sweet when she passed him, a pleasant mix of something childish;
a scent he could only pinpoint as a cinnamon roll.

He didn’t see her again before he left, even though he knew he could easily find a reason to.

His interaction with her repeated over and over in his mind as he walked through the parking
lot, swaying the bag with few supplies in tow.

She was so pretty. So adorable, and so sad.

Majority of people likely viewed her as just the first two, and he played with the thought of
her telling everyone she was just tired upon being asked what’s wrong, why she always
seemed so down.

She was perfect.

He liked that she was smaller. Not underweight or shorter than her peers, but small in
comparison to him.

And he liked that she was kind, timid even.

His mind continued reeling, the sun now completely set as he drove home.

He thought about how good she would feel underneath him, especially if she was squirming
in fear for her life.

Not necessarily because she directly feared that her life would be taken. But because her body
would have a natural, visceral reaction to being in that kind of danger, no matter how little
the regard for her own life was.

Shit.

The thought excited him, a little too much.

He pulled over on the dark back road, turning off the headlights before powering his car
down.

He hadn’t been this hard in awhile.

His hands slipped to his belt as soon as the idea came to mind, his breath hitching as soon as
he grabbed his cock.

The road was dark and a long enough stretch that he could see well before anyone
approached his vehicle, and now that she was the reason behind it— it wouldn’t take him
long at all.

The memory of her skin pulled a noise out of him, soft and young as her shirt hiked up to her
waist slowly.

God, the things he’d do to her.

He imagined her reaction to being pinned underneath his weight, sobbing and trying to hit
him.

He wondered what he could say to make her cry, to feel utterly hopeless, and what would
build her up just to do it all over again.

Even though their first interaction was short, he knew she was more than everything he’d
ever imagined.

He wanted to hurt her. He wasn’t sure which turned him on more, the thought of doing it
physically, or emotionally.

Both.
 The thought of fucking her with no restraint while telling her the most vile things she’d ever
heard in her life brought him to the edge.

He fantasized about how tight she’d feel around him, her body naturally trying to do its best
to end what was happening.

But he wouldn’t care.

All it would do was make him fuck her harder, force his cock so deep, and so painfully that
she couldn’t make a sound.

He came faster than he’d ever admit with a loud groan, his other hand gripping the steering
wheel as he finished the fantasy of cumming inside her while he pinned her down, her
fucking perfect voice begging him to stop.

His chest heaved as he came down from his high, not even caring that he now had a mess to
clean up.

He had never felt so strongly so abruptly, and he already made up his mind as to what to do
about it.

Admittedly, his mind was made up the moment he first saw her, watching from afar.

He entertained the human side of him, considering whether or not it was worth the risk.

The risk wasn’t.

But she was.

Chapter End Notes

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 4: Day 1 Part II—From His Pov
Chapter Summary

fucking her for the first time, his pov

Chapter Notes

( so this is absolutely my favorite chapter so far, and i hope you like it too!! )

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Finally.

She was perfect. So fucking perfect.

Everything had gone so well, a little too well, that he wondered if he was still dreaming, still
in the stage of wanting her to be his for so long that it consumed every part of his life.

But it was real, and so was the girl he dreamed of having now being in the exact position he
wanted her to be in.

If anyone else saw her current state they would’ve thought she was dead, her body laying
limp and cuffed to the bed.

He ensured the exact opposite, monitoring her breathing every so often and checking to make
sure her chest rose and fell evenly.

It would make sense for his mind to be racing considering what he’d done, but none of it
registered.

He only thought about her, always her.

She was so pretty up close.

She wore a small thin t shirt and jeans, her shoes long since discarded somewhere on the
floor.

Her hands lay still in the handcuffs besides a slight stir now and then, her feet unbound.

Of course he knew it was risky, that she’d be likely to try and kick him whenever she came
to. But admittedly, he wanted that fight.
He also knew it wasn’t one that she would win, bound or not.

He wondered if she was having good dreams.

With everything he had planned for her, the probability of her having many more was
minimal.

He’d let her have that peace for a little while longer.

And he didn’t mind watching her sleep. His imagination ran more rampant now that she was
in his immediate presence, the fantasy of watching her scream and struggle for him now all
too real, too achievable.

Shit.

He needed it, badly.

And everything had gone smoothly thus far.

But after going through the bag she carried when he took her from the dark and unmonitored
alley behind her work, he found antidepressants in her bag.

It didn’t surprise him. Admittedly, it made his cock twitch.

But it did scare the shit out of him. He should’ve known or at least anticipated that she was
taking meds prior to drugging her, and he worried that the mix of the two would kill her if it
hadn’t already.

He’d spent the next twenty minutes cursing under his breath, nervously bouncing his knee as
he researched the active ingredients in her medication and cross referenced it with what and
how much he’d given her.

Thankfully, he found nothing.

But he still wasn’t completely sure how she would feel when she woke up.

It would really suck to wake up to the realization that you’d been kidnapped, littered with
multiple other symptoms like a bad headache or nausea.

It would suck for her anyway. It wouldn’t stop him from fucking the shit out of her.

She stirred as if she heard his thoughts, making him check the time.

It’d been hours now since she went under.

He spent majority of that time down in the basement with her, the rest of it spent cleaning and
prepping.

Now was as good a time as ever to wake her up; she was already showing signs of coming
out of it.
He intended to reach for her shoulder and shake her awake gently, but his hands wandered
down her chest instead, over her clothed tits and groped them lightly.

God she really was perfect.

He told himself he should stop, he knew that any way he touched her would be a million
times more rewarding to him if she was awake.

But whether or not he could was a different story.

He regretfully pulled his hands away as she stirred awake, whimpering and squeezing her
eyes closed tighter.

Fuck it sounded so good.

“Wake up,” He coaxed gently.

She whimpered again before snuggling her face further into the pillow, falling back to sleep
without opening her eyes.

He smiled and leaned forward to put a hand on her cheek, stroking it slowly with his thumb.

She leaned into his touch and fluttered her eyes open gently.

He could tell she was looking, but not really seeing. The initial dazed look in her eyes was
something he’d never forget.

Glossy and borderline lifeless, like he could do anything to her and she wouldn’t be able to
do a single thing about it.

He considered it ironic, given that’s exactly what he had planned.

"Wake up babygirl"

Her eyes closed again before he moved his hand to her shoulder and shook gently.

She blinked the daze out of her eyes, naturally trying to pull her hands to her face.

But of course she couldn’t, and the realization made her wake up faster.

Her eyes darted over the room and finally onto him, making her shoot up faster than he
thought her capable of doing.

She looked adorable yet terribly woozy, making him reach a hand out to steady her.

“Hey, hey—“ He started, but she immediately jumped away from him.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

That seemed to be a very open ended question, so he didn’t respond.

She looked down at the handcuffs on her wrists, blinking hard as if she was trying to stave off
the effects of the rest of the drug in her body.

“You really should be more careful.” He started. “I had to give you a lot of—well.”

She wouldn’t have known what he was talking about even if he said it.

“Let’s not worry about that. I don’t wanna confuse your pretty head with any big words.”

Her lips parted to get more air and she now looked dizzy from fear, the sight turning him on
the most he’d ever been since he first saw her.

“What’s going on?” she trembled.

“You should drink something.”

She followed his gaze to the cup of water on the stand.

“I’m not taking anything from you.”

The boldness of her words contradicted the image of her current state, and it made him laugh.

“Silly girl. I already have you. I don’t need to drug you.”

Well… that was a lie.

“Not again anyway.” He corrected.

She looked sick at his words, diverting her gaze from his as she began hyperventilating.

“What is going on?”

Huh. After all the time he’d spent prepping he knew that would be one of the many
questions, but he didn’t prepare a proper response.

She scanned his face fearfully. For a moment he thought she finally recognized him, but the
pondering left her face just as soon as it started.

He considered her question genuinely before he leaned forward and decided to open the floor
to her instead.

“What do you think is happening?”

She looked innocently puzzled at that, shaking her head repeatedly and stuttering all over
herself.

Somewhere in the murmuring she asked if he was going to kill her, making him fight back a
smile at how adorable her trembles were.

“Kill you?” He questioned with a straight face. “Now why would I do that?”
It was also sort of comical to him, the girl who likely considered taking her own life more
than once now concerned about the possibility of someone else taking it for her.

She stayed silent, and he continued.

“I don’t want to kill you. You should be considering this as me saving you, actually.”

She started crying faster than he’d ever seen someone cry before, and she was fucking
beautiful doing it.

“You can’t do this—” she pulled on the handcuffs and tried to pry them off, not noticing him
smile at his handiwork.

“I’m not property you can’t just take me! I have a family. I have friends I—“

“It happens all the time.” He all but shrugged, standing up to touch her.

“No.” she pulled away with a whine.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t about to go back and forth with her, especially if she wanted to be deliberately
stupid. “People go missing, and people die.”

He could tell by her reaction that she didn’t like that word. He’d be sure to use it again.

“But you’re here now. And I’m not going to kill you, I have other plans.”

She looked puzzled, still backed away into the corner and crying.

“You’re one of the lucky ones you know. Most girls get their bodies dumped in the nearest
ditch.”

The more he thought about it, she really was lucky to have him. He might be mean, sadistic,
and harsh at his worst, but he wouldn’t kill her.

He’d give the life she didn’t think had any meaning a lot of it.

Maybe she’d see it that way one day too.

She pleaded and broke down in sobs that likened a child, yanking on the handcuffs that he
ensured countless times wouldn’t budge.

“Please—“

He intended to reach out and pull her feet flat onto the bed but she screamed at his touch,
leaning back in her space at the corner of the bed and kicking her legs out at him.

He was surprised; he didn’t think she’d be this lively so soon.

But it also made him angry very quickly.

“Stop.”

He really was trying his best to give her a chance to calm down on her own.

“Stop.” He demanded a bit louder.

She appeared to be manic with screams and he knew she wasn’t going to stop on her own,
moving to wrangle her feet and pull them flat on the bed.

He climbed over her despite her long string of "no's", forcing a hand over her mouth to
silence her rambles.

“Fucking STOP.”

Finally, she was quiet.

For a split second, at least, until he felt her teeth biting into the palm of his hand.

It did hurt slightly, making him wince unnoticeably and smack a rough hand across her face.

He knew there was a disparity of how hard he hit her in comparison to how hard she bit him,
but the fact that she even did it really pissed him off.

He made a mental note to not hit her so hard while she was still in an unsure and sensitive
physical state, but outbursts of disrespect were the last thing he’d tolerate.

His hand went back over her mouth firmly as he tried to make himself clear.

“Don’t. Even think about trying that again.”

He noticed that her face looked almost betrayed; like her feelings were genuinely hurt that he
had actually hit her.

She started shaking and hyperventilating into his hand and he was losing his patience. It was
her own fault she got hit.

He removed his hand from her mouth.

“You wanna scream so bad? Fine, go ahead.”

It took awhile for him to do, but he’d finally got the soundproofing right. He wouldn’t mind
her screams, he would actually quite enjoy them— so long as they weren’t accompanied with
any additional disrespect.

She didn’t scream, instead she started pleading with him.

"Please,—" she sniffled. “I’m scared. I’m so so scared. I wanna go home—“

There were countless late nights that he fantasized about the way she would tell him how
scared she was, how scared he made her feel.
It immediately took his anger away and he moved to comfort her, placing a hand on her still
stinging cheek.

“Sweet girl. I know you are.”

He didn’t care to look too much into what she considered home before he took her, not when
he was building her a new one of her own.

He did know that her parents were divorced, and she had her own space in both homes, both
within in the same city.

Whoever she’d spent the most time with, he didn’t care.

Whichever parent or person outside of him that she was thinking about, he didn’t care.

However he did have plans to fix it, to make it so that he was the only one on her mind.

He was becoming increasingly agitated with any mention of “home”. But he reminded
himself it was only her first day, and she was still fragile, still sensitive.

Instead he told her that wasn’t happening. That she had no idea how much went into them
being where they are now, how expensive the drugs were, and a bit about how many times he
wanted to —and failed— getting her there due to her never being truly alone.

"But why?" she whimpered tearfully. "Why are you doing this?”

“Because,” He started honestly, moving to slot himself between her legs. “I watched you at
your job. You never seemed truly happy.”

“You’d give the prettiest smile to everyone. The most gorgeous sounding 'have a wonderful
day'." Then go right back to looking despondent.”

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t expect her to. They both knew he was right.

“I wasn’t sad—“ she started softly, the tears he’d always dreamed of spilling from her eyes.

Here he was being honest with her, yet she lay underneath him lying.

“Hm. Well the antidepressants in your bag tell a different story.”

She looked like a child who got caught in a lie, the confusion on her face going straight to his
cock.

“It doesn’t fucking matter.” she spat.

He reminded himself again to be patient with her outbursts.

“There’s people out there that’ll look for me and—“

Her parents and whatever friends she had would, maybe. But she did have some sort of less
than adequate mental health history.
He knew it was fairly likely the law enforcement in her city would take one look at her
mental health history, chalk it up to a voluntary missing adult and move on to the next.

He dismissed her woes by telling her honestly that he didn’t care.

“What it won’t change, is the fact that you’re here. And that I found everything about you to
be perfect from the moment I saw you. I can break you—“ He pressed his hips into hers,
“Then put you back together just enough to do it again.”

He gazed into her eyes and she tried to look away, grabbing her chin in his hand so she had
nowhere else to look.

“And for so long I've wanted to know what sounds you'd make for me."

She started screaming again, something straight out of a horror film.

It felt good knowing he was the reason behind it.

"Let me go, I won't say anything please-"

”Oh, I know you won’t.” He said gently. “Because you’re not leaving.”

He found the “I won’t say anything” attempt quite silly, because even if he did suddenly have
a change of heart, (it would be a very cold day in hell if he did) he’d already gone too far to
just let her go.

"Get off of me you fucking psycho! Just because you don't have a life doesn't mean you get to
take me you fucking los-"

She was back to being erratic, and he hated being disrespected.

For a moment he wanted to smack the disrespect out of her, but the one blow to her face was
enough.

He crushed her jaw in his hand angrily, her fear fueled rant stopping dead in its tracks.

"You've got a mouth on you. Keep going and I'll give you something to do with it."

She was thankfully smart enough to not continue, crying and yanking on the handcuffs
instead.

“I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He felt like she was overdoing it.

The way she was thrashing around did add friction to where their bodies pressed together, but
he preferred that she’d stop moving around so much until he determined the drugs had worn
off enough for her to move on her own without injury.
He released the grip on her jaw and tried his best to console her, at least enough to stop her
thrashing and try to get it through her pretty —and rather stubborn— head that the last thing
he’d tolerate would be disrespect.

"Contrary to what you made me do, I don't get off on hurting you."

He corrected his words again, wanting to always be honest with her.

"I won't solely get off on hurting you. So just remember, that if you want to fight me, if that's
the route you want to take, I'll make you wish you were one of those girls who get found in a
ditch. Do you understand?"

She whimpered and sobbed, her attention appearing to falter as she visibly considered what
was in store for her.

“Hey.” He interrupted. “Snap out of it."

She looked at him, petrified and giving up her fight.

He made sure to slow down his words, clear and even enough for a child to understand.

“Do you understand?”

A soft nod from her made a smile appear on his face, and his cock grow in his pants.

After what felt like eons without her, eons of wishing to have someone like her, she was
finally there; finally his.

There was a long way to go in terms of her penchant for disrespect; but there was nobody
he’d rather have that journey with.

She surpassed even his own fantasies of how perfect she could be for him; he couldn’t have
wished for anyone better.

His distraught, anguished, pretty little thing.

“Good girl.”

_____

He always found it interesting that the word fear had multiple definitions.

"Apprehension", "Unpleasant Emotion", "Distress".

But this, this was fear.

Her eyes were wildly dilated, and her wet eyelashes weren't enough to stop the tears.
Her hands were shaking even in the handcuffs, and he swore he could hear her heartbeat-
even between the short distance that he hovered above her.

She was terrified, and he was the reason why.

The thought felt surreal, and he now faced the biggest dilemma of his life.

Her fear was intoxicating to him, so addicting, so sweet.

He wanted to take it further, slowly run his hands over her body and admire every hitch in her
breath while her mind imagined every horrible thing that he could do to hurt her.

And that was the other issue, he did want to hurt her. He just couldn't figure out which to
indulge in first.

The strain in his jeans was becoming painful, so it'd have to be both.

He grazed his thumb over her tear-stained lips and admired how soft they felt to his touch.

Her breathing visibly increased, her trembles appearing to be something so primal that she
likely didn't realize just how much she was doing it.

"You're shaking so much." He tsked. "And I still haven't touched you yet."

He couldn't pass on the opportunity to taunt her, and he likely never would.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

She shook her head and whimpered a tiny no, making him smile at her expense.

"No?" He tsked. "Well that's too bad, isn't it?"

She attempted to look away from him but his hand was quick to grab her chin, leaving her
nowhere else to look but in his eyes.

He felt her thighs squeeze slightly around his waist, moving her legs in an attempt to wiggle
from underneath his weight.

It made him smile and look in between the two of them, the realization of his cock being
pressed against her core causing her to panic.

"Feel that?" He questioned. "That's all your fault."

He couldn't recall a single time in his life where he'd been this hard.

Her body was now his. All his.

He moved his hand to slide down her chest, trying to take in as much of her as he could.

She started begging him again, and he shushed her with a low, drawn-out whisper.
To his surprise she stayed quiet, her hands twisting in the handcuffs as he lifted her shirt up
just over her navel.

The sight took him back to the moment he first saw her, when all he could do was admire her
from a far.

He had quickly become so fond of her that the vision of her lifting to reach a shelf alone was
enough of a memory to get off to. And he had, plenty of times.

But now it was real.

She was perfect. So fucking perfect.

He might've said it out loud, but he was so enthralled he wasn't completely sure.

And it didn't matter if he did, it was the truth.

He was almost completely lost in the reality of finally having her, lifting her flimsy t-shirt
painfully slow with desire.

A loud sniffle and whimper from her broke his focus, immediately making his eyes flick up
to hers.

His thoughts turned to something darker, and they would only continue to grow.

If lifting up her shirt was enough to bring tears, how genuinely terrible of a time she was
going to have in the moments to follow.

He was filled with a pure twisted joy at the thought.

"What's got you so scared?" He chuckled as he sat up and moved for the button on her jeans.

He reminded her that there was much worse he could've done to her by now, and she was
much too smart to think otherwise.

She looked puzzled and he relished at the sight.

"I want to go home-" she whimpered.

"That's not what I asked you." He said firmly.

He knew it was going to take a lot of time for her to come to terms with the fact that she
wasn't leaving, but it didn't make her whines of wanting to any less annoying.

Nothing was going to stop him from doing what he wanted to do to her. Not today, not
tomorrow, nor the coming weeks or months after that.

He decided to try being patient with her pleas to be let go, reminding her things might be
easier for her if she got returning "home" out of her head.

Her worried eyes stared back at him, slightly bloodshot and still spilling tears.
"You took me," she started, "I don't know where I am and you hurt me-"

He almost laughed at how unbelievably adorable she was.

"Sweet girl." He shook his head and curled his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. "You
don't know pain if you think I've already hurt you."

He was going to have a lot of fun with her if she thought that what he’d done this far was
anything remotely bad, especially in comparison to what he had planned for the two of them.

"But it's okay." He assured her. "You'll learn."

She cried and wriggled as he lifted his weight off of her, hovering slightly to slide her jeans
down her legs.

He looked up at her for a brief moment, noticing a slight change behind her eyes.

She screamed and kicked her legs at him, nearly hitting him square in the chest.

It made him unreasonably angry, and he reacted, climbing back on top of her before bringing
down a rough hand across her face.

"What-" He pushed his hand over her nose and mouth, "Did I tell you about doing that?"

He really, really wished she would stop making him hit her.

He'd prefer it if she didn't spend her first day with him having a concussion. That could be
saved for later.

Her chest heaved up and down slightly in the absence of air as he sighed away the hassle of
her struggle.

"I meant what I said." He started. "There is much worse I could've done to you by now."

He decided to name a few to remind her of the predicament she was actually in.

"Break your finger, slice you open, pull out some of those teeth that apparently, you like to
use."

He made sure she couldn't use them now even if she tried, his grip on her face too firm and
unwavering.

"All good things. Things that could work."

His face was now closer to hers, his tone low and even.

"You can lie to me if you want, but you were sad. You always seemed so, so sad. Maybe you
even thought about dying sometimes. But we both know you don't want to die, not really."

He moved his hand for a moment, noticing her thrashes for air becoming weaker.
They picked up again when he briefly let her breathe, realizing just how much he enjoyed
being in control of whether of not she received the most important thing she needed to be
alive.

"So for now," He replaced his hand, "Every time you tell me no, try to hit me, do something
that is even slightly less than what I told you to do, you're not gonna breathe."

Holy fuck it was hot to watch her struggle for air.

He wanted to force himself inside of her right then and there, but he could feel his desires
becoming overwhelming. He didn't want to lose control of himself.

He closed his eyes instead, tilting his head back with a pleasure filled sigh and trying to find
some semblance of restraint.

She looked up at him with glassy eyes, whimpering for air and mercy.

"Maybe you'll grow to value your life a little more one day. Or the opposite. But as soon as
you start wishing to die, I'll make things easier for you. Then I'll take you back there. Make
you wish for it over and over, until I'm the only thing you know is certain."

His hand finally pulled away and she gasped sharply, twisting to choke on nothing and
heaving air back into her lungs.

He took advantage of her struggle and slid down her now unresisting body, tossing her jeans
and underwear somewhere on the floor.

He discarded his in the same manner just as she came to, pressing her knees together and
whimpering as she stared at him.

"I-I'm sorry I kicked you." she stuttered.

He adored how cute her last-ditch effort was, and he did appreciate the apology.

But it wouldn't change anything.

It was almost as if she was reading his thoughts, switching to sobs and panic as she realized it
wouldn't affect the inevitable.

"Please-" she pleaded with him sincerely. “I don't want this. I don't want-"

He moved back onto the bed and nudged her legs open with a bit of force, hovering over her
and listening to her cries.

"What do you not what?" It was the softest tone he'd spoken to her in, wiping a newly fallen
tear from her cheek. He wanted to hear her to say it. "It's not like this is your first time."

"I don't want you to hurt me," she sobbed. "I'm scared and...I just wanna go home-Please-"
She shook her head back and forth and her cries were louder, her words becoming jumbled
together.

There was no high on the planet that could compare to how satisfied her words made him
feel.

Her fear was palpable, her tears were intoxicating, and he was very much drunk on her
despair.

He needed to be inside of her.

His hand went to his mouth before he slipped it between the two of them, groping her softly
and easily finding her clit.

She jerked away from his touch, making him bring his free hand over her nose and mouth.

He rubbed soft circles into her clit as she writhed for air, her legs opening wider with the
movement.

Unfortunately for her, this was the softest he planned on being. And it wasn't because he
wanted to be.

He spent the last of his restraint on not forcing himself into her, but he wanted one more thing
before he did.

He let the hand over her mouth go and she cried, too scared to look away from his eyes.

"Please-" she whimpered.

"Please what?" He asked. "Please keep going?"

"No-n-no," she shook her head. "Please stop."

He admired her current position, leaning his face in closer to hers and not breaking eye
contact.

"You don't want this, do you?" He soothed.

She shook her head, the fingers on her clit becoming firmer.

"no" she whispered, briefly looking into his eyes like he understood.

He had her where he wanted her; confused, terrified, and vulnerable.

The touches to her clit were intentional, he knew the way he was doing it was more than
enough to make her feel good.

And maybe she didn't realize it actually felt good, but her body would.

He wasn't deluded, he knew she was wet because her body wanted to defend itself from being
raped. It was actually one of many things about forcing himself onto her that turned him on.
But he also wanted to add to her body’s terror and uncertainty by incorporating pleasure in
the midst of mental duress.

He wanted her to think for a moment that he'd thought better of it, make her think he wasn't
going to violently fuck her.

The rest of his restraint fell away at the same time his hand fell from her clit.

"Huh." He ran his fingers over her slit, dipping one of them into her slightly before showing
it to her. "It doesn't look like your body got that memo."

He smiled as she stared at his hand with fear and embarrassment, quickly cleaning it of her
wetness before spitting in his hand and bringing it to his cock.

Even the slight taste of her was better than he could imagine, and he made a mental note to
eat her out until she came against her own will much sooner than he planned to.

But that could wait for some other time: right now he was going to fuck her to tears.

She squeezed her thighs together, which immediately proved to be useless as he was seated
between them.

He could've forced them open himself, but she presented him with yet another opportunity to
humiliate her further.

His hand moved over her mouth and nose, her body appearing exhausted with the interval
deprivation of oxygen.

"Open."

She resisted for a moment, and he didn't mind the show. He jerked off in tandem with her
writhing, knowing she'd give in eventually.

"Either you open them on your own, or you pass out and I open them for you."

After a few more moments she did exactly what he wanted her to do, weakly spreading her
legs for him.

He knew she would hate herself for it later, believe it was her fault for opening her legs and
"inviting" him to do whatever he wanted to do to her.

It would be useless for her to blame herself, but he'd never tell her that.

Nothing was going to stop him from having her, and there was nothing she could do that
would stop him from fucking her.

"Good girl." He praised. "Now look at me."

__

The moment he forced his cock inside of her was the best he'd ever felt in his entire life, and
the loud cry it pulled out of her was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.

He didn't care how cheesy it was.

He didn't care about all the time spent waiting, and all the money he spent on renovating and
cultivating the best place to keep her to get to this moment.

He didn't care that he'd committed multiple serious crimes thus far, and he didn't care that he
was committing one right now. The only thing that did for him was add to the pleasure.

Nothing that felt this good should be illegal.

His cock had never been wrapped around so warm, so wet, and so tight.

She cried and hyperventilated as her body struggled to get used to his size, making him throw
his head back in bliss as she squeezed around him.

The handcuffs clanged loudly on the headboard as she pulled on them with all of her strength,
nothing to brace herself on but the pain.

He shook himself from his bliss the best he could, opening his eyes so he didn't miss the
dejection on her face.

His eyes stayed trained on hers as he pulled his cock out, forcing all of it back into her at
once.

She jolted from the pain and wept underneath him.

He sighed with pleasure, staring down at her as she struggled to breathe.

"Aw," He tsked, wiping a few of her tears away with his thumb. "What's wrong?"

Her sobs were inconsolable, loud and visceral.

He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone cry this hard.

"Use your words." He added apathetically.

She tried to string a sentence together, her words barely audible to him.

"I-it- it really hurts-" she sobbed, her legs tense around his sides.

He felt everything in that moment. Her pain, her fear, her distress, and all of his desires
intertwined with it, summing up to something darker than he'd ever felt before.
In the beginning he told himself he'd try his best to be gentler for the first time, as he didn't
know yet what would break her.

But all the restraint he'd built up until this moment was gone.

In this moment he didn't care if he broke her; he deserved a medal for making it this far.

"My pretty little thing." He smiled at her suffering. "I know it does."

He didn't give her a chance to react, starting a brutal pace as he fucked into her.

She continued to whine and squeeze around his cock, which only made him fuck her deeper.

"Fuck—" He groaned, slipping his hand into her bra and groping her tits harshly.

"You're so perfect," He praised. "So fucking good."

He never gave out much praise or expressed adoration during sex, he expected it to be given
to him.

But he couldn't help but praise her, admire how good she took his dick even though he could
tell it was hurting her.

He squeezed her nipple and watched her whimper at the additional discomfort, slipping a
hand behind her neck while the other one pushed her thigh open.

She squeezed her eyes shut and cried, making him scold her.

"No. Look at me."

His free hand clamping over her nose and mouth made her open her eyes obediently, but he
wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily.

"Look at you," He taunted with a wicked smile. "Taking my cock like you were made for it."

She kept her eyes on him as she kept crying, making him let out a loud groan at the sight.

He loved seeing her like this. He loved that he was the reason why she was like this.

He kept up a sharp pace as he continued to taunt her, his voice strained heavy with moans.

"I'm gonna use your cunt so much, so so much every fucking day—You're mine."

"Say it."

He didn't move his hand away, wanting to make himself clear to her.

"If you want to breathe, you're going to fucking say it."

He moved his hand away after a few thrusts, giving her a moment to think better of it. And he
wouldn’t mind if she didn’t, he liked the way she somehow got tighter when she couldn't
breathe.

"I'm-" she whined.

He thrusted into her particularly hard, fucking the word out of her.

"I'm yours" she choked out.

"Mhm." He smiled. "Good girl."

He moved his hands to either side of her head, staring down to where their bodies connected
and giving her further direction.

"Spread your legs wider."

She hesitated only for a second, sniffling and spreading her legs.

He loved that she was already listening to him, even if it took nearly rendering her
unconscious to do it.

His hand wrapped around her neck, knowing the exact spot that cut off her air supply.

"I'm sorry," He lied. "I'm so sorry, you just—shit—you feel so fucking good squeezing
around my cock when you can't breathe."

She writhed her hips into his against her will, the way her walls fluttered around his cock
nearly sending him over the edge.

"Yes" He smiled. "Good girl."

When he let her go she started another coughing fit, twisting over onto her side as she tried to
breathe.

He admired the way she looked halfway onto her stomach, pulling out to manhandle her the
rest of the way.

She yelped as the handcuffs twisted around her wrists uncomfortably.

He swatted her ass and yanked her hips up, positioning her perfectly.

"Keep it up just like this."

He forced his cock back into her so roughly that it moved her whole body forward, her voice
choking out a pained groan.

The pace he fucked into her now was rougher than the one before. He groaned in pleasure,
never thinking it would be possible for him to be this rough.

He always had a hand on his chest to stop him when he got too deep, or a request to time out
when his thrusts became too much.
But there was nothing to stop him now, and nothing she could do to muffle her cries.

She tried to do it anyway and he stopped her, yanking her head up from the pillows by her
hair.

His arm wrapped her neck, not tight enough to stop her breathing but enough to keep her in
place.

"H-n-please-" she squeaked in his grasp.

Fuck.

Her begging nearly made him cum right then and there, making him pause to catch his
breath.

He listened to her broken sobs as he kissed her temple, appreciating the melody before
fucking into her how he needed it.

His thrusts started again, the only sound in the basement being her dismay, his groans of joy,
and the sounds of his hips crashing into her.

God damn she felt so good. He moaned shamelessly at this point, imagining what she must
be feeling.

He remembered questioning his college girlfriend about why she didn’t like it harder,
insistent on knowing what was so terrible about him being rough that she couldn’t just give
him what he wanted.

“It’s just too deep and painful. It’s not a normal kind of pain like tripping and falling, it’s
inside of you.”

She went on to explain the science of the pain receptors and nerve endings in a woman’s
pelvic core, which he happily listened to.

He broke up with her a week later.

No one could ever give him what he wanted, and he’d spent every day since fantasizing about
having it.

And now the girl he craved more than anything besides his desires was pinned beneath him,
taking everything he gave her with tiny whimpers.

Anyone else before her no longer existed.

Anything before her no longer existed.

He wasn't going to last much longer. He wanted it to go on forever, but he also knew he didn't
have to take her in all at once.

She'd be his forever.

"You're mine," He grunted into her ear. "My perfect girl. I knew you were worth it from the
moment I saw you."

"You're worth every. single. moment."

She appeared to have given up, only silently crying under his weight.

"You're so fucking cute when you cry for me." He encouraged. "So cute struggling to take my
cock in your fucking perfect little cunt."

He wrapped his hand over her mouth, his thrusts becoming sharp and sloppy.

Her tears fell as he groaned loudly, a string of praise falling from his lips.

"So fucking pretty."

His orgasm crept up on him, and he knew it was going to be the best of his entire life, better
than all of his firsts combined.

She felt so good, so unbelievably good.

He could feel himself pushing against her cervix, and he knew he was going to leave it
bruised. He was glad to be hurting her, glad she would still be in pain long after he pulled
out.

But not before he came right up against it first.

He finished inside of her abruptly, bliss and euphoria coursing through his entire body.

His mouth was close to her ear as he did, making sure she knew that she was the reason for
all of his pleasure.

Holy shit.

He stayed buried inside of her as he caught his breath, slipping his hand from her mouth and
planting open mouthed kisses over any skin he could reach.

She didn't say anything, nor did she move.

He realized her tears had stopped right after he finished, the first time they'd stopped since
she woke up.

"Shit." He thought to himself, only this time he was saying it for a completely different
reason.

He found it very abnormal for her to not being crying or pleading with him after everything
he'd done, now fearing that he fucked her up in the head too much, too sooner than he meant
to.

With an inaudible sigh he pulled out of her and stood up, moving to get redressed.
She didn't look at him as she flipped onto her side with no help from the handcuffs, suddenly
bursting into tears.

He took that as a good sign, but he still wanted to gauge her mental state.

The handcuff key was tucked into the pocket of his pants, pulling it out after he finished
getting dressed. Mostly dressed.

He brought it up to her wrists, her current state too perturbed to notice what he was doing
until her hands were free.

"Sit up." He instructed.

He expected her to try and fight him, to try and bargain to be let go.

As annoying as it was to him, he wanted her to show some sign of fight or resistance again,
something to let him know she hadn't completely checked out on him.

Right now she appeared to be dazed, no desire to fight or sign of disobedience.

Admittedly, it worried him.

"Take that off," He gestured to her shirt, "And put this on."

She stared at the T-shirt blankly and back at him, her hands rested at her sides.

He could tell she wasn't intentionally trying not to do what he said, she just wasn't all there.

He moved to lift her t-shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. "Take that off." He gestured
to her bra.

That was simple enough for her to understand, lifting her hands to take it off and wrap her
arms around herself.

He licked his lips with desire, knowing now was not the time. Not when he was trying to
make sure he didn't completely break her.

Instead he reached for the shirt he wore when she first woke up, gently pulling it over her
head.

He held her hands and lifted them into the arms of the shirt carefully, trying to communicate
to her that he wasn't going to hurt her without actually saying it.

After he helped her into his shirt he looped the handcuffs back through the headboard,
making them slightly more loose around her wrists than they were before.

He observed her as she stared around the basement, finally taking in her surroundings.

Then he watched the realization hit her like a truck, the tears he'd never get tired of seeing
quickly spilling from her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief.
"No no no-" she whimpered.

He knelt on the ground in front of her as she sat on the side of the bed, holding her face in his
hands.

She tried to move away from him, but he didn't let her.

She repeated how badly she wanted to go home, sounding like a broken record.

"Hey," He interrupted, shaking her head once firmly. "You're okay."

Again she tried to pull away from his grasp, but he was too strong.

"Stop." He said firmly. "Look at me."

"I want to go home" she repeated.

"You are home." He assured her. "It's better for the both of us that you're here."

She whimpered and shook her head at him.

"Let me go. You hurt me."

And there she was again, the same person she was before they started.

Insistent on telling him how he hurt her, and determined to tell him that she should be let go.

"I did. But eventually you'll see it's better I gave you physical pain."

She still had a will to live, a part of her that wanted to fight.

He thought he pushed her past her mental limit, and she appeared to be nowhere near it.

But he wanted her dangling over the edge.

"I need you to do one more thing for me, and then you can rest."

She looked slightly confused, and he continued.

"Tell me you love me."

She froze and looked like she was going to object, but he had an incentive to make her think
better of it.

"Before you answer, I'll give you two choices. Say it on your own, or I'll do everything I just
did to you again. Only this time, I'll take my time letting you breathe again until you say it.
It's your choice, I'm fine with either."

He decided long ago that it would be something he'd make her grow to say on her own
accord, and he had a few reasons for it.
 To humiliate her, make her more confused, add yet another thing to her mind that made her
question herself, and the simplest reason; to make her do something she didn't want to do.

She searched his eyes quickly.

"If I say it, will you let me go?" she whispered.

God that question was annoying.

He reminded himself again that he didn't want her concussed on her first day.

He shook the anger in his eyes and humored her.

"Well, you'd have to say it first, wouldn't you?"

She pursed her lips together and he watched a tear slip down her cheek, her eyes landing back
on his.

"I love you." she murmured.

"Good." He nodded, her face still held in his hands. "Do you see that wall over there?"

She looked confused again, following his gaze to the cement wall and turning back to look at
him with a slow nod.

"Ask me to let you go again, and I'll bash your skull into it until you can't stand on your own
two feet."

He could feel the fear reflood her body, moving to kiss her forehead as she began to sob.

"You should rest." He stood up. "I'll be back to give you a bath."

He watched her curl into a ball and start hyperventilating, a smile that she couldn't see now
crossing his face.

All he could think about as he climbed the stairs was how much he adored her, his mind filled
with ideas of how to push her further and further to the edge.

He'd be more careful moving forward, more calculating and more observant.

And no matter how much she thought she hated him, he would still be there to catch her
whenever she fell over the edge.

Always.

Chapter End Notes

questions, comments, concerns ↓
 Chapter 5: Day 1: Part III
Chapter Summary

“aftercare” her pov

Chapter Notes

WARNING - after this chapter the story will start getting darker (and possibly triggering
to some).

i do try to keep up with the tags, so please look out for you and stop reading if you ever
see something you don't want to read (:

See the end of the chapter for more notes

She never lied.

The only time she could remember doing it was when she peered over her classmates
shoulder during a spelling test in kindergarten, then thinking up some elaborate excuse when
her teacher caught her in the act.

She remembers the anxiety of being in trouble when her dad came to pick her up from
school, and being thankful when he wasn’t upset.

He explained the wrongness of her actions in a way her younger self could understand, and
said something he always wanted her to remember.

“If you don’t have anything else in life, you have your honesty.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but she never lied again.

And now she sat in the chair across from her therapist, one knee pulled to her chest as she
contemplated her response to a question she already knew the answer to.

“How are you feeling overall lately?”

She didn’t want to be honest about her thoughts that everything seemed pointless.

She didn’t want to say that she was growing to hate interacting with people, anxious that
eventually they’d see her the way she was starting to see herself.
And she definitely didn’t want to mention anything else about how she sometimes didn’t want
to be here anymore.

She couldn’t even remember how she got out of them putting her away for awhile after she
said it out loud.

Everything was going well for her on paper. She had a decent job, good relationship with her
parents, a small friend group, and even a nice guy in her friend group that wanted more than
just a friendship.

The list was exhaustive, and only added to her guilt for feeling the way she did.

She knew if she couldn’t do anything else, she could try her best to feel the opposite.

For her family, her friends, and for the small regard she had left for herself— she could try.

She proved her efforts by taking her antidepressant as prescribed, putting more effort than she
wanted to into maintaining her relationships, and keeping up with some semblance of a
healthy routine.

She hadn’t given up on herself completely.

She bit her lip gently, considering if it was worth it to break such a long streak of honesty and
truthfulness.

“Fine.”

A lie.

The actual truth lingered on her tongue, unsaid and hiding how she’d been feeling more often
than not.

Empty.

___

Empty.

That word lingered in her head now, and the feeling was familiar.

Only this time it was deeper; more profound.

The memory of sitting in the comfy chair of her therapists office faded, and so did the safety
she felt there despite everything she was feeling.

She didn’t feel safe anymore.

Instead she felt like she was no longer in her body, as if the essence of herself was gone.
Everything he’d done made her feel like an outsider in her own skin, the only thing to remind
her that she was still herself being a deep seated ache along with her tears.

She lay curled in a ball to the best that the handcuffs would allow, her tears unwavering as
they spilled down her cheeks.

Even with him gone the fear lingered, and so did the pain.

Millions of questions swirled through her brain, and so did the worst of everything that took
place since she’d been awake.

Her thoughts circled around how this all happened, why this happened, what would happen
next, and why she wasn't dead yet.

She remembered what he said— he didn't want to kill her. But she didn't trust the word of
someone who put her through hell and left her to burn.

Not only that, he was happy about it. All of it.

She couldn’t figure him out.

He hurt her so badly, so deeply, so intentionally, and she didn't know why.

His reasons only left her more confused.

He told her that she always seemed so sad and despondent, and yet he’d just done something
that wrecked her almost completely.

He told her that he wasn't going to kill her, but threatened her gruesomely if she so much as
mentioned wanting to go home.

She couldn't figure it out, any of it.

It was as if some evil entity in a movie had come to life and latched onto her, but it felt far
more worse than that.

The knowledge that he’d been watching her before bringing her here made her feel dizzy.

Her head was aching.

Whether it was from the drugs, being hit, or the intervals that he made her struggle for air,
she didn't know.

She suddenly thought of her family, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

By now, they absolutely would’ve noticed she was missing.

The last thing she wanted was for them to think she left on her own accord, or worse— that
she did something to herself.

There must’ve been a million missed calls on her phone and— where was her phone?
She answered her own question as she was able to partially recall the night before.

In a hurry to get home after a long work day she accidentally left her phone on the counter,
dramatically sighing before turning to head for the back door.

She remembered thinking about her friend as she walked, and the plans they previously made
for the upcoming weekend.

The next thing she could recall was walking up to the back door and reaching for it, then
suddenly feeling a pair of strong arms wrapping around her so firmly that she couldn’t move.

She recalled trying to scream but a hand was already over her mouth, silencing her terror
before she could even inhale enough air to do so.

A sharp poke of something that felt like a needle followed, and her eyes closed quickly.

The next time she woke up she was in the basement, in the same spot that she was in now.

She wasn’t going to spend another second trying to remember how she got here and what
followed, because it didn’t matter.

Even if she didn’t completely know how she was going to accomplish it, she was going to get
out of this.

She sniffled wetly and tried to sit up, wincing at the soreness that accompanied her
movement.

The single window in the top corner of a nearby wall was far too small in length and width
for her to jump through, even if she could somehow make her way up there.

It appeared its only purpose was to let you know if it was day or night, clearly designed and
textured to make it so that nobody could see in or out.

She looked at the couch on the other side of the room along with all of the other furniture,
noticing that it was nicer than anything she had at home.

The basement wasn't dirty or dingey like she anticipated given her current circumstances,
instead it looked like it had been recently remodeled.

She ignored the fact that it was likely done for her.

__

She was unsure how much time passed, but her tears hadn’t let up for a single moment after
he left.

She didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts, and she certainly didn't want to be left
alone with him.
But she also didn't think he cared about her at all, let alone about what she wanted.

She tried desperately to think about anything but him.

It proved to be useless moments later, the opening of the basement door making her breath
catch in her throat.

Her muscles got tense as she saw him appear, moving to descend the stairs just as calmly as
he had when he left.

She noticed he had another T-shirt on to replace the one she was wearing, overall appearing
oddly refreshed.

He didn’t look at nor acknowledge her as he reached the bottom step, instead turning to walk
towards the bathroom.

The simple sound of the faucet turning on made her heart pick up speed.

Even though the only thing he said would happen to her next was a bath, she didn’t trust
him.

She cornered herself at the top of the bed, mind racing as she thought about how she was
going to make her escape.

He returned a few moments later, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“Look at that.” He tsked. “You had me so distracted I forgot to give you water.”

She didn’t say anything in response, still refusing to look at him.

He grabbed her chin and made her eyes level with his anyway.

“I want you to be hydrated, especially after what I gave you.” He ran a thumb over her jaw
and admired the pout she gave him.

“How about you finish your water first and then I give you a bath?”

She didn’t want him touching her any more than he already had, and currently was.

But he’d have to uncuff her in order for her to be able to do what he wanted, so she nodded
softly.

She gritted her teeth out of his sight when he called her a good girl, reaching for the key in
his pocket and moving to undo the cuffs on her wrists.

He set them down next to her and passed her the cup, making her frown after taking it from
him.

“It’s just water.” He added upon seeing her mistrust. “I promise.”

She wanted to ask him how he possibly expected her to trust him, but she didn’t want to make
him angry.

Still she froze for a moment, staring down at the now room temperature liquid.

“Like I told you before—” He started impatiently, a slight edge to his voice.

“I already have you. I have no reason to drug you. Drink it.”

She did as she was told, trying to hide that everything that happened—in addition to her
seemingly endless tears—made her thirsty enough that she actually wanted to drink it.

There was nothing abnormal and she was glad for it, passing him the cup before realizing she
was no longer restrained. At all.

He turned to put the cup down for a split second, and she was on her feet in the next.

She bolted towards the stairs, still dizzy and too high strung to notice that she didn’t hear any
footsteps behind her.

Once she reached the top of the stairs she didn’t look back, moving to turn the door handle.

Only it didn’t turn like she had hoped and it made her panic, pounding her fists on the door
before she noticed there was some sort of padlock on it.

She screamed and hit the door harder, not caring if it was pointless.

No no no no no.

She wasn’t staying here. She couldn’t.

He moved to nonchalantly lean against the bottom of the staircase.

“I’m going to give you one chance to come down here on your own.” He started calmly.

She was no longer able to hold herself up, falling to her knees and sobbing yet again.

Was this even real?

Her breathing became shallow and she was lightheaded, her blurry eyes scanning the top of
the stairs as if they had an answer.

I can’t stay here, he can’t keep me here—

She whimpered and rambled to herself nonsensically, wrapping her arms around her knees as
more tears came but offered her no comfort.

She froze suddenly, one of the screws on the staircase catching her eye.

More memories came back to her, but this time it was one she forgot she had; when she first
met him.
Images of his smile, his kindness, the way he asked her for help in a section that wasn’t even
related to what he needed- flashed through her mind all at once.

She had seen him before.

Unfortunately the knowledge didn’t change her current situation, but it did mean he was
telling the truth when he said he’d been watching her, and likely had been for a long time.

When,how,why—whatthefuck—

Her manic thoughts were interrupted by a strong fist in her hair.

She screamed and tried to hit him, so wrapped in her shock that she didn’t see he’d come up
the stairs himself to come get her.

“Get OFF of me!” she screamed at him louder than she had before, her language filled with
the most profanities and insults she’d ever said to another human being.

His movements were unwavering as he yanked her down the stairs, making her struggle to
scramble to her feet.

Her knees thudded on every other step until they reached the bottom, but it didn’t compare to
the pain of him throwing her to the ground.

She bounced back and moved to stand but he was faster, forcing her back onto her knees
before she could lunge at him.

“Stop.” His voice was firm, and multitudes calmer than her own.

“Fuck you.”

Before she knew it she was in the same position that she was before, lying flat on her back
with him straddling her sides.

In the rush of the moment she no longer cared about his threats to hurt her, or any other
consequence she could possibly face from him.

Her hands were still free and now she wanted to hurt him, desperate to make him feel even
just a fraction of how he made her feel.

She started hitting her hands on his chest, throwing herself around before he easily swatted
them away and brought one of his own across her face.

For some reason it hurt more than it had before, but the blow to her face was enough to make
her snap out of hysterics.

She didn’t hear him curse under his breath, the newfound pain temporarily pausing her
senses.
The fuzziness in her vision faded away as she blinked, moaning slightly as she moved her
hands to his forearm and futilely tried to yank the hand that touched her nose away from her.

He pinned her hands to either side of her head, making her twist and yank her wrists at the
feeling of being restrained again.

“Stop.” His tone was strict as his eyes scanned her face.

“That was fucking stupid of you, throwing yourself around like a child and making me hit
you. I almost broke your fucking nose.”

She didn’t respond, the feeling of defeat slowly diminishing her defiance.

He let her wrists go once she relaxed under his weight, a smile now spreading over his face.

“Look at you,” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Trying to fight me with my cum still spilling out of you.”

He moved to stand, not bothering to reach out and help her up.

She sat up and swiped a hand over her nose, freezing when her fingers came away dark red.

“And now you see what happens when you don’t listen.” His voice was heavy with blame,
making her realize just how stupid of her it was to run.

Of course he kept the door locked shut.

“Get up.”

Her tears fell silently as she stood up, and for the first time she realized just how much taller
than her he actually was.

It made her feel even more small.

He slightly tilted his head towards the bathroom, gesturing for her to move. She walked past
him with her eyes downcast, too afraid to meet his gaze.

This time she heard his footsteps following.

When she entered the bathroom she was surprised to see a mirror, immediately looking away
from her appearance. She didn’t want to see herself like this, or have yet another thing
remind her that this was real. She was already living it.

The bathroom was slightly on the smaller side, but still well lit and decorated.

She looked over at the counter, noticing a small array of items. A stack of towels, a bottle of
soap, and what looked like another one of his shirts folded on top.

She turned to continue looking around, jumping in fear as she realized he was standing right
in front of her.
His hands moved under her arms, easily lifting her up and sitting her on the counter opposite
the items he must have brought down there before she’d woken up.

She stayed silent, far too afraid that anything she had to say would invoke an angrier
response at her escape attempt.

He reached for one of the towels and turned on the sink, waiting a moment for the water to
warm up before running the towel under it.

She gripped the edge of the counter with her clean hand as he reached to hold her jaw, his
other hand lifting the towel to her nose.

His movements were gentle as he focused on cleaning her face of tears and blood, but her
blood was the only thing that stopped spilling.

She stared at him while he focused on cleaning her nose and her lens of terror was slightly
less strong, remembering when they first met.

From what she could remember she thought he was handsome and charming, but also very
nice and respectful.

She never thought of him again, and her stomach twisted thinking of how he must’ve thought
about it a lot.

He continued wiping at her upper lip before running the towel back under the faucet, looking
out the corners of her eyes to see the water drain away with a slightly red tinge.

“I’ll give you a pass for today,” He began without looking at her, adding a small amount of
soap to the towel.

“You have drugs lingering in your body, and it’s only your first day.”

He continued cleaning her nose, the words ‘first day’ making her heart sink even lower as it
inherently implied many more.

“But if you ever do that again, it’ll be much worse than a bloody nose.”

She didn’t respond or look at him as he began cleaning the blood from her fingertips, rinsing
out the towel before running it over her skin one last time.

He tossed it on the counter carelessly when he finished, then moved to hold her face in his
hands.

She wished he wouldn’t.

He swiped one of her tears away, gazing at her intently.

“You’re just as pretty as you are stupid.”

Her eyes met his briefly, the closeness and intimacy of it making her feel sick.
“Go get in.” He stepped away from her, and she knew he meant get in the bath.

She knew it probably wasn’t wise to say it, but it was the truth.

“I…I don’t want to.” she said timidly.

He turned and stared at her while he washed his hands.

He didn’t say anything, but the message was loud and clear. She was trying his patience, and
it was in her best interest to do what she was told to do.

She whimpered slightly and hopped off the counter, wanting to do what he said before he
could respond to her objection.

The air was cold as she took off his shirt, quickly climbing into the water to avoid having him
look at her.

She forgot how much pain she was in until she sat down, the warmth highlighting aches she
didn’t know existed.

He pulled up a stool next to the edge of the bathtub, sitting down and running a new towel
through the water.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, half expecting him
to scold her.

But he didn’t seem to mind, instead reaching to run the towel over her back.

She squeezed her arms tighter around herself and wondered why he was the one doing this.

She was fully capable of bathing herself, and she didn’t want him touching her.

Maybe it was because he didn’t trust her to be uncuffed and alone, and she couldn’t deny that
she had just given him a reason not to.

It would’ve been relaxing to her in any other scenario. The way he ran his hands over her
skin was soft, and almost sort of calming.

But she refused to let herself think of it as such.

He’d done terrible things to her, taken her away from her family, her entire life— and made
her live out one of her worst fears in a way that was even more ugly than she ever could’ve
imagined.

He pulled one of her arms away to clean it and she let him, leaving the other one wrapped
around herself.

She was riddled with anxiety as he reached her other arm, realizing the rest of her body was
next.
“Spread your knees.” He said easily.

She didn’t want to.

But her surroundings were against her, as she didn’t think he’d be opposed to drowning her in
her own bath for saying no.

He slipped his hands between her legs and she sucked in a breath, fully expecting him to start
groping or slipping his fingers inside of her.

But he didn’t, and ran the towel over her skin just as gently as he’d done the rest of her body.

She hoped he couldn’t see the relief on her face, glad he didn’t do anything else especially
since she was still awfully sore.

He ran the towel up and down her legs, and she busied her mind with focusing on the way the
bubbles moved at his motions.

When he finally finished she brought her legs back to her chest, waiting for him to tell her
what to do next.

Not because she wanted to listen. She was just tired, and mentally depleted from everything
that happened to her since she woke up.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

She almost looked at him quizzically, realizing it was the first time he gave her an option for
something that wasn’t a threat of ‘this or that’.

“no.” she said softly.

He got up from the stool and grabbed a towel, reaching for her hand to help her get out.

She took it reluctantly, hating that she was weak enough to need his help.

He wrapped the towel around her and moved to drain the water, drying his hands before
putting away the items that were no longer being used.

She took the opportunity to dry herself off while he wasn’t paying attention, quickly patting
away the rest of the water once he leaned against the counter.

He took the towel from her and handed her a shirt, pursing her lips together when she
realized it was another one of his.

It barely covered her hips, and she shoved down the thought that this would be the only thing
she’d be wearing from now on.

He stared at her for a few seconds too long before turning to walk out of the door.

“Come on.”
She followed him, deliberately ignoring her reflection passing by as she did.

The air felt even colder now.

She walked out of the doorway and tripped, painfully falling over onto her hands and knees.

He pulled her up by her arm as she winced, rubbing her hand over her knee.

“You need to look where you’re going.” He observed.

“I don’t know how I—“

She frowned in confusion and had no idea how she didn’t notice his foot in the way of her
path. She could’ve sworn she was paying attention.

“You must be tired.” He pointed out. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Maybe he was right. But she didn’t think she could fall asleep, silently hoping that he was
content with everything he’d already done to her for the day.

She followed him back to the bed and tears threatened to fall again upon seeing it, the
memories of his cruelty replaying in her head.

He replaced the handcuff to the headboard when she sat down, and she was semi thankful
that he only cuffed one of her hands.

“What is that?” she stared at one of the beams in the ceiling that she hadn’t looked at closely
before.

He followed her gaze then turned his attention back to double locking the handcuff onto her
wrist.

“A camera.” He said as if it was no big deal.

He must’ve seen the distress on her face, elaborating on its purpose.

“It’s not on.” He stood up. “But it will be whenever I leave.”

She felt like she’d been slapped in the face again upon hearing him mention ‘leaving’, even
though he all but threatened to kill her if she said it.

“Lucky for you,” He continued, “I made sure I’ll be working from home for awhile.”

Lucky her.

“And no, I’m not recording you.”

She didn’t know how he was talking about it so calmly. It still made her feel more sick and
uneasy, and she was learning that he was really good at making her feel that way.

“I thought about it—” He continued honestly, “But it’s too risky to keep that anywhere.”
He leaned in close to her face, making the tears that were already threatening to fall spill
down her cheeks.

“And why should I watch myself fuck you when I can just fuck you whenever I want?”

He smiled when her lips trembled, moving to kiss up her jaw and down her neck.

She lifted her hand to his shoulder, too weak to push him off.

He breathed in the scent of her skin, making the weak grip her free hand had on him tighten
as she felt his tongue trail along her neck.

She nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled away, moving to look at her tears like it
was something to be marveled at.

He was crazy.

Psychologically, emotionally— and especially for her.

“You made me feel really, really good today.” He praised, relishing in the way it made her cry
even more.

“Get your rest. I have a lot planned for you tomorrow.”

Suddenly she was filled with hate.

She hated that she was here, hated that he’d taken her, and hated that he was so unpredictable
that it made her feel like she couldn’t even breathe around him.

She hated him.

“I hate you.”

Her voice was soft, but more than loud enough for him to hear it.

She didn’t care that she wasn’t prepared for the angry response he’d have. If he had to
remember anything that she said, she wanted it to be that.

He brought his hand to her jaw, rubbing his thumb over her cheek.

“My sweet girl,” He shook his head.

“You can’t possibly hate me more than you hate yourself.”

He grabbed the empty cup from the stand before walking to the stairs, turning back to her to
smile one more time.

“Goodnight.”

The door closed behind him as she sat there in the darkness, left with nothing but his words
for the rest of the night.
Chapter End Notes

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 6: Day 2: Part I
Chapter Summary

the first time he uses her mouth, his pov

Chapter Notes

if you’ve missed his pov as much as i've missed writing it, this ones for you :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In a twisted way, it was sort of sweet how badly he wanted to see her again.

He couldn’t recall the last time he lay awake staring at the ceiling, impossibly hard and
admittedly— desperate.

It was taking everything out of him to not use her again.

But as much as he wanted to catch her by surprise by slipping down there in the middle of the
night, pin her hips down with his own and fuck her mercilessly until she sobbed— he ignored
how much it turned him on that it took very little to make her cry— he knew it was wiser to
let her rest.

He wanted to give the drugs another night to wear off, and for her to rest from the blows to
her face. No matter how much of her own fault they were.

It was an overwhelming first day for the both of them, but he felt she was doing fine so far.

Nearly everything including her “escape” attempt were things he anticipated would happen—
he actually expected her to try it again at some point.

The only thing he didn’t predict was that she’d be so despondent after he fucked her.

Which— sure, he raped her quite brutally. He was well aware.

But for a moment it appeared she’d already given up, like the darkest thoughts she had about
life had come true.

Perhaps that’s why he was so drawn to her; his thoughts were dark too.
The only real difference was he gained an endless amount of satisfaction from his playing
out, while hers only weakened her will to live.

She was also just as unpredictable as he was.

Pliant in one moment, and telling him she hated him in the next.

He smiled as he remembered her boldness, and the dejected look on her face when he told her
that she couldn’t hate him as much as her own self.

The only thing he wished was that he had more knowledge about her mental state before him.

He wondered what triggered her, made her feel worse, and what made her feel ease, but he
had already made several observations on his own.

She leaned into it when he pretended to care about what he was putting her through, when he
filled his voice with fake empathy and wiped her tears away.

It didn’t take much to manipulate her. Overall, she was terrified and didn't know what to
expect next.

He turned onto his side and he imagined the fear and pain she was surely feeling as she lay
bound to the bed, alone and in the dark with nothing but her thoughts.

Whether he was using her or gone for however long he could tolerate being away from her,
either circumstance would leave her at a loss.

For her, there was no win.

He sighed as he reached for a glass of water on his bedside table, ignoring how hard it made
him to think of her misery.

He refused to solve the problem by jerking off; there was no way in hell he was going to
waste his cum ever again.

Not when she was down there readily available to take all of it.

_____

He was awake as soon as the sunlight crept into his room, immediately tossing his blankets to
the side and heading towards the bathroom.

His usual morning routine wasn’t lengthy, but he sped through it anyway.

He showered and brushed his teeth the fastest he’d done since he was a kid, the comparison
making him laugh to himself.

It was like Christmas morning, and the toy he wanted desperately for several months was
waiting for him in the basement.
He walked back into his room to grab her handcuff key and bottle of antidepressants from his
bedside table, shoving the key into his pocket before heading to the kitchen.

The amount of work emails he was greeted with after opening his laptop made him sigh.

He was grateful to be the hired analyst for another company but resented that the amount of
time he’d have to spend going through all of the data they’d sent would only take away from
time he could be spending with her.

But he couldn’t complain, not really, he accepted their offer over another because they’d let
him do all of his work remotely, and he didn't want to leave her for long if he could help it.

He shut his laptop without reading the rest and decided he'd start working on it later.

Normally he would’ve eaten more than just a protein bar, but food wasn’t the thing he was
hungry for.

He reached for her bottle of antidepressants after satisfying his morning routine, already
finding himself growing hard as he headed towards the basement.

The air was cold as he shut the door behind him. Maybe he’d give her a blanket for the
nighttime if she earned it. Maybe.

He took his time going down the steps, not wanting her to know how much he actually
wanted to be down there with her.

But he couldn’t wipe his smile upon seeing her wild hair and terribly reddened eyes, making
it obvious that she’d spent the night in tears tossing and turning.

“Good morning sweet girl.”

She sat curled up at the top of the bed with her free hand wrapped around herself, deliberately
avoiding eye contact with him.

“Did you get some sleep?”

She looked confused as he placed her medication on the stand next to the bed, barely shaking
her head in response to his question.

He could see all of her muscles tense in his presence, any sign of her being drugged two
nights ago now gone.

“Oh honey.” He shook his head with fake concern.

“I told you to rest. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

She whimpered to herself and shifted slightly.

“Are you hungry?”

He was curious to know, but didn’t plan on feeding her even if she was. It’d be better if her
stomach was empty for what he had planned.

She didn’t answer him, and he was tired of being patient.

He moved forward and grabbed her jaw tightly with one hand, giving her nowhere else to
look.

“Maybe you’re just a little too fucking dumb to know this, so I’ll help you out.”

He ignored how adorable it was to see the fear grow in her eyes as he continued.

“It’s not wise to not answer the man who has you bound with nowhere to go. Especially when
that man can do whatever he wants to you.”

He loosened his grip on her jaw just enough for her to speak.

“I’m not hungry.” she answered softly. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Huh. He forgot she had to do that.

He let her jaw go with a slight push to her face, reaching in his pocket for the key.

“And another thing you may or may not have learned," He began as he moved to uncuff her,
“It’s also not wise to try anything stupid when that man decides to let you use the bathroom.”

She wrapped her other hand around her wrist once it was freed, soothing the ache that a night
of trying to pry her way out of them gave.

“You never know.” He taunted. “You could end up with a bloody nose.”

She frowned at his reference to the previous day before he dragged her to her feet by her arm,
letting her go once she found her footing.

The door was locked, but he didn’t mind chasing her down if she decided that now was the
time she wanted to try running again.

She sheepishly wrapped her arms around herself when she got to the bathroom, pausing to
stare at him lean against the doorframe.

He let his thoughts wander about how good her cries would sound in a small space, looking
at her up and down with lust in his eyes before realizing she appeared hesitant.

“Yes.” He answered the question she was too afraid to ask. “I am going to watch you.”

He gestured for her to hurry up, and thankfully she did.

“Come on.” He tilted his head towards the rest of the basement.

She looked like she was walking to her execution, and he had no desire to placate her fears.
She should be scared of him.

Before she could reach the bed he grabbed her arm, closing the small distance between them
before slamming her face down over the edge of it.

He placed his knee on the small of her back as she cried and wriggled underneath him,
futility trying to get up.

She tried pulling her hands out of his grasp, quickly losing the fight and earning the
handcuffs secured tightly behind her back.

He moved to drape himself over her from behind, making sure she could feel just how hard
she made him.

“Have you always cried this easily over nothing?”

She sobbed and struggled underneath him as he slipped his hand up her side, kissing her
temple before pressing his cock into her unclothed ass.

“Please— “ she whimpered.

“Please what, sweet girl?” He questioned gently.

He all but dared her to answer that question, knowing that she wanted to ask him to let her
go.

When she didn’t respond he stood up and reached for a fist full of her hair, yanking her up
before carelessly tossing her to the ground.

She whimpered like a kicked puppy before he pulled her the rest of the way onto her knees.

“You remember what happened when you bit me yesterday, don’t you?”

She appeared to have taken his advice on not answering him when he asked her a question.

“You hit me.” she stated accusingly.

“And whose fault is it that you got hit?”

She looked up at him with a glare that he didn’t appreciate.

“You took me—“

He slapped the glare off her face, making her sniffle in pain before he dipped two fingers into
her mouth.

“Not what I asked you.”

Her mouth was just as wet as her face, her lips wrapped softly around his fingers as she cried.

“Whose fault is it that you got hit?”

He pulled his fingers away as she sobbed to herself.

She already forgot his advice, sitting on her knees and refusing to give him the answer she
knew he was looking for.

This time he slapped her harder, the sound of her being in pain making him consider bending
her right back over the edge of the bed.

“It’s my fault!” she cried out with a desperate wish for him not to do it again.

“It was.” He nodded in agreement.

He turned to reach for her bottle of medication, flipping the label over in his hands.

“I did some research on these.” His tone was easy, as if he didn’t just hit her hard enough to
make her cheek visibly red.

“You have about… three, maybe four days of not taking it before you start having some
terrible side effects. So, I am going to let you take them.”

He turned his attention back to her, gently holding her jaw in his hand.

“If you bite me, I am going to hit you harder than I ever have before. And you’re right, it will
be your own fault. But if you do decide you can take being hit, and try to bite me— we’ll be
the first to find out what happens when you don’t take these for a week. Understand?”

He smiled down at her, admiring how she visibly hung on his every word each time he
threatened her.

She nodded quickly as he pulled one of the pills out of the bottle and placed them both back
on the stand.

“Use your words.”

“I understand.” she cried bitterly.

He replaced two fingers in her mouth and slid them back and forth, groaning to himself when
she pulled away to gag.

“Looks like I have a lot to teach you.” He tsked.

She cried harder when he pulled his cock out and began stroking himself in front of her face,
unable to pull away after he placed his free hand at the back of her head.

He thought she was beautiful regardless, but she was so damn perfect like this.

Her tears were falling freely, and he took the opportunity to catch some with his cock.

“So fucking pretty.” He praised. “Open.”

She paused for a beat and looked like she was considering if she should.
But the facts were she had nowhere to go, and he had every intention of being a man of his
word if she tried to do anything besides what he told her to.

Her lips barely parted after a second, making him squeeze his free hand around her chin
before sinking the tip of his cock past her lips.

He’d been sucked off many times before, and yes, he had an extreme bias for her, but
somehow she was already the best he’d ever had.

Her mouth was wet and soft, and the way her tongue felt on the underside of his tip alone was
enough to make him cum.

He started a slow pace, feeding her a little bit at a time.

“Good girl.” He said lowly as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

She closed her eyes and he shook his head in disapproval, gently slapping her cheek.

“No.” He scolded. “You know better.”

He moaned as more tears spilled when she opened her eyes, making him push slightly further
into her mouth.

She gagged before he even touched the back of her throat, lips trembling as he pulled away.

He slipped his fingers back and forth into her mouth until his cock got jealous, twitching with
want.

Unfortunately for her, his restraint dissipated.

She appeared to sense it, opening her mouth even less wide the second time he told her to do
it.

He forced most of his cock into her throat and she struggled, her mouth only being pushed
further onto him as she tried to pull away.

Fuck yes.

He kept her there for a second and let her throat spasm around him, his head falling back in
satisfaction.

She gagged and coughed when he let her head go, so violently that he was sure she would’ve
vomited had she’d eaten anything in the past two days.

"Please-" she pleaded.

“Stop whining.” He interrupted with annoyance. “You haven’t even taken all of it yet.”

She whimpered and opened her mouth when he nudged the tip against her lips, filled with
misery at his words.
He didn’t give her a chance to prepare before he forced all of it down her throat, slightly
grinding his hips when her nose reached the skin of his pelvis.

She heaved when he let her go, looking up at him the most desperate that she ever had.

“Stick your tongue out.”

He didn’t let her hesitate this time without penance, slapping her just as powerful as he had
before when she didn’t do it immediately.

“Keep it out.”

She bounced back from the blow to her face and obeyed, shoulders shaking as he forced
himself back down her throat.

He frowned when he felt her tongue retreat back into her mouth, unable to control his anger
at her not being able to do something so simple.

The force he hit her with surprised even himself, making him have to reach his other hand out
to stop her from toppling over.

She looked dazed for a moment, blinking the darkness from her vision and trying to catch her
breath.

"I'm sorry" she whined.

He really didn’t care. He was only asking her to keep her tongue out, not bungee jump from a
90-floor building.

The drag of her tongue under his cock as he fucked her face was nothing short of blissful. He
rewarded her with pulling away much sooner than he wanted to, replacing her mouth with his
hand.

"Wait —I can’t—“ she was painfully out of breath, pleading with him and pulling at the
restraints behind her back.

He held her chin gently despite it being soaked in her own spit, pretending to pity her.

“It’s too much isn’t it?”

She nodded softly, looking up at him through wet eyelashes.

“But you’re doing a really good job sweet girl.”

Honestly, he could cum exactly like this. Her face was a mess, she was beyond helpless, and
he started to see the mark of his handprint on her cheek.

He loved hurting her, and loved seeing the marks from doing so. They made her even prettier,
and reminded him that she was no longer just a dream— the girl he wanted desperately was
really there at his feet, struggling to take his cock.
“I just need to do it a little bit longer and then you can be all done, okay?”

The softness in his voice was making him feel gross. Not only was it fake, it was the exact
opposite of his nature.

But she took the bait and nodded a barely visible nod anyways, breathing unevenly before
hardly parting her lips.

He fucked her mouth roughly, cursing under his breath when he switched to grabbing a fistful
of her hair and forcefully jerking her mouth over his length.

His pleasure was building rapidly, and the moment he was going to cum from it she jolted
with a gag that let him know her teeth wouldn’t be far behind if he didn’t let her go.

He groaned in equal parts pleasure and frustration, roughly yanking her off of him.

"God you're fucking pathetic."

He didn’t let go of her hair as he pulled her up to her feet, throwing her onto the bed and
climbing over her before she could flip onto her back.

She pleaded with him when she realized what he was doing, thrashing under his weight with
even more pathetic rambles.

“Wait, wait- i’m sorry i—“ she begged him, sobs cutting off her own words.

He balanced his weight with a hand over the side of her face while the other lined himself up
with her entrance, her own spit and tears being all the lubricant he needed to slide into her
with ease.

Even though he was angry that she couldn’t yet take him down her throat and nearly ruined
his orgasm, he wasn’t angry about having to fuck her in order to finish the job.

He missed how tightly her walls wrapped around him, and he enjoyed that she was too stupid
to realize that when she writhed against him and didn’t relax it only added to his pleasure.

His hips crashed into her with a rougher pace than the one he used on her mouth, the pained
look across her face making him groan.

“This is your fault,” He added insult to injury in between his moans.

“You couldn’t just take it in your mouth for ten more seconds—and now I have to use one of
your other holes to get what I want.”

She wept loudly, and he felt feral upon hearing it.

He fucked her hard and deep, shocks of pleasure building in his body until it nearly spilled
over.
It would’ve been good, so good to cum inside of her, to keep his cock buried deep until he
slowly pulled out and watched it leak out of her abused cunt.

But that wasn’t part of his plan, at least not right now.

He pulled out against his own wishes, reached for a handful of her hair and yanked her back
to the ground.

She jumped at the pain of being thrown to her knees, looking up at him with her adorable
look of terror that he’d never get tired of.

He jerked off with the amount of wetness she brought to his cock, roughly grabbing her chin
and holding her mouth open.

She whimpered and unsuccessfully tried to pull away when he leaned to spit in her mouth.

He didn’t give her any chance to swallow or spit it out, giving her instruction on what to do
next.

“Do not spit my cum out of your useless fucking mouth or I won’t feed you for a week.”

She hyperventilated at his words and wept loudly.

“You’re gonna swallow it, all of it-if you throw it up I’ll make you lick it up then clean the
floor.”

He continued to jerk off and admired her anguish, tears and snot running down her soft skin.

It was all he needed to cum hard and groan loudly, careful to make sure all of it landed in her
mouth.

He grunted and rubbed the tip of his cock against her lips after every drop pooled into her
mouth.

“So fucking good.” He muttered out of breath.

He reached behind him with his free hand and grabbed one of the antidepressants he took
from the bottle, turning back to drop the pill in her mouth.

“Swallow it.”

He loosened his grip on her jaw and watched her shake before swallowing down the pill with
his cum and spit.

“Good girl.” He patted her cheek gently.

He tucked himself back into his clothes while she coughed and sputtered, hunched over
herself and crying.

He shrugged off her suffering.

 Her cries were loud and full of mourning, making him so enthralled that he almost forgot she
still had something to do.

He leaned down and reached for a fistful of her hair, yanking her eyes up to his.

“You still have something you need to tell me.“

She looked puzzled and broken, and it made him want to fuck her again.

“You want to rest, don’t you?”

He watched the realization hit her, panic rising in her chest.

She whined in between breaths, and he reminded her that he did in fact, have all day to wait
for her to say it.

"I love you."

He loved how it broke her down even further.

For now he was finished with her, moving to pull the handcuff key out of his pocket and free
her aching wrists.

She stayed on her knees after he did, moving to place her hands out on the ground in front of
her as she struggled to catch her breath.

So dramatic.

Chapter End Notes

(promise he’ll be nicer at some point in the next chapter, it’s all part of his game :)

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 7: Day 2: Part II
Chapter Summary

both pov

Chapter Notes

WARNING: he says some very harmful things to her in this chapter. if you struggle with
mental health then pleaseeee be mindful of this before you proceed, and remember that
none of anything he says is true.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

He loved to make her suffer.

He loved watching her suffer.

He loved being the reason she suffered.

She still struggled on the ground at his feet, alternating between sobs and trying to catch her
breath.

To anyone else, it would’ve been heartbreaking.

And maybe it was, but he didn’t care to see it that way.

He had everything he wanted since his teenage years, and that was far from something he’d
be remorseful for.

She took advantage of her hands being freed and wiped the tears from her face.

His dark thoughts came tunneling back at the sight, making him consider forcing her to stay
there, holding her chin and jerking off until his cum painted her adorable little face.

He sighed to himself.

As much as he wanted to, it was still important to him to take care of her, at the very least
enough to keep her alive.

He ignored his urges and pulled her up, his touch far more gentle than it was when he used
her mouth moments before.
She flinched and tried to move away from him, visibly relieved when all he did was cuff one
of her hands back to the bed.

He left without a word, shoving her medication back into his pocket.

Unfortunately he now had to focus on his work, at least for a little while.

He sat at the kitchen table and was greeted with even more emails than before, making him
set his jaw at the amount of work headed his way.

It was normally like this when he started with a new company— tons of data, charts, and
analytics being thrown at him at once.

He skimmed through everything that had been sent to him, trying to keep his mind focused
on the task at hand.

The last email he clicked on caught his attention, sent by the youngest member of marketing
the team.

“Attached you’ll find all of my own research, data, and marketing strategies from the two
fiscal years I’ve been with the company.

I’m honored to be working with you, I admire your previous work and have heard nothing but
the best.

It was a pleasure meeting you as well. I know you work remotely, but I’d be very happy to see
you around the office.

Please let me know if you need anything further—work related or otherwise. I’ll be more than
happy to assist you with any of your needs :)”

She closed the email with her work and personal number.

He was used to getting flirted with, but never experienced anyone try to do so over a work
email. Especially not so boldly.

It was so painfully obvious that the only thing missing was a string of heart symbols to go
with it.

He could vaguely remember meeting the sender, a conventionally attractive young woman
who was nowhere nearly as pretty as the girl in his basement— giddy, and seemingly full of
energy.

But everything about her turned him off, terribly.

He responded with barely anything more than a “thank you”, glad that he dodged having to
deal with her flirtations in person.

In the past he might’ve toyed with her mind here and there, just to see how badly she actually
wanted him.
But he hated being pursued, and the girl in his basement had ruined every other woman in the
entire world for him.

She was all that he wanted.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he realized he already missed being near her, seeing her sobs
and hearing her whimpers.

He decided he could do his work in the basement, rationalizing his decision with the fact that
he still wanted to feed her and give her water.

__

She wanted to vomit.

Her head was aching awfully, both from being hit and the several sharp tugs to her hair.

She ignored the taste in her mouth as she lay down her head, sobbing and fully convinced
he’d given her a concussion.

Why her. Why her?

Her tears only multiplied as she pitied herself, unsure of how the world could be so cruel by
letting this happen to her when each of her days before him were spent convincing herself
that she was worthy of being alive, worthy of being happy.

She didn’t feel so worthy right now.

He was stripping her of everything, and didn’t even give her the dignity of saying no.

She hated him. She wondered if telling him so last night was the reason he was so cruel to her
today.

But something told her it wasn’t, that the things he was doing to her were all just the actions
of the person he really was.

He was going to hurt her no matter what she did, no matter how she reacted.

She missed her parents. She wondered if they’d given up on looking for her, or when they
would if they hadn’t already felt like doing so.

Her rational brain scolded her doubts, memories of the numerous ways they proved how
much they loved her permeating through her distress.

She closed her eyes and stayed like that for awhile.

For a moment she was in her mothers arms, trapped in her embrace and being told no matter
what life threw her way she was always going to be there for her.

She could only wish she had that now.

—

The sound of the basement door opening tore her away from her tiny semblance of peace,
quickly scrambling back to a sitting position at the top of the bed so he wouldn’t catch her off
guard.

She remembered his words from the night before as he walked down the steps.

“I have a lot planned for you tomorrow.”

But she knew the day was far from over, and she was learning that his desire for her seemed
to be never ending.

She wrapped her free hand around herself even tighter as he walked toward the couch and
coffee table, confused at the items he had in his possession.

She nearly asked him what he’d just put down but his actions interrupted her, making her
clench her teeth together when he tossed a water bottle and protein bar on the bed next to
her.

He silently reached for his back pocket, the sight of another bottle of pills making her freeze
as she thought of what took place earlier in the morning.

“Relax,” He said nonchalantly. “It’s an anti-inflammatory.”

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want it, and she considered telling him she didn’t need it
out of spite.

But the pulsing in her head was incessant, and the pills appeared to match what he said they
were.

“Open.”

She hesitated, tears threatening to fall upon hearing him say that word again.

“For the pills, sweet girl. But if you want my cock again so soon—I can give you that too.”

Her heart rate sped up.

She felt he’d only get angry if she outright said no, so she worded it differently.

“My head hurts.” she said softly.

“I figured.” He ran a hand over her cheek, admiring the bruises she didn’t know existed.

She opened her mouth slightly when he pulled out three pills, grateful that he’d given her
more than just one.

He opened the bottle of water and put it in her free hand.

It was nice to have water, but it made her yearn for the times before him that she didn’t need
to have someone get it for her.

It was degrading, and made her more dependent on him than she ever wanted to be.

She missed home. She missed her parents. Her friends.

“What are you thinking about?” He questioned.

She looked up at him and rid herself of any pensive look she may have had.

“Nothing.” she shook her head innocently.

“You’re a terrible liar sweet girl.”

“I just—“ she remembered his threats regarding her mentions of home and considered if she
should be honest.

“I… miss my family.”

“Mm.” He nodded. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re an only child, right?”

She nodded softly, unsure of why he was asking.

“Then I’d imagine your parents miss you terribly.”

Her breath hitched upon hearing him mention them.

“That’s a shame.” He continued as he returned the bottle of medication to his pocket.

“For you to have such caring parents, all of their time and attention on just you, and yet the
only possible way you could think to show your appreciation towards them giving you their
best was wanting to die.”

Of all the horrible things he’d said and done to her, that somehow hurt the most. But she
didn’t want to let it show on her face.

“I didn’t—“ she started in a whine before he interrupted.

He reached for her chin, his grip just as firm as it always was.

“Didn’t what? Want to die?”

Her lip trembled as he kept going.

“You weren’t being prescribed the highest dose of what you take just for something as small
as anxiety my pretty girl.”

She wished she wasn’t so weak. She wished she told him he was wrong, demanded to know
why he cared so much, anything.
But it was like he somehow knew the most horrible things to say to her, as if he scanned her
brain and said everything she tried to convince herself wasn’t true.

“Even if I did let you go— you’d only be a burden to everyone. Even more than you were
before.”

His words came out so calm, so matter of factly.

She bit back tears and wished she could cover her ears or tell him to just leave her alone.

“That’s not true.” she cried.

“It isn’t?” He pushed her back onto the bed and pinned her free hand down, making the tears
finally spill from the corners of her eyes.

“Look at me.” He grabbed her chin again.

She blinked the tears from her eyes, meeting his own with fear of what he’d do if she didn’t.

“The only thing you being alive did was make everyone around you feel bad for not being
able to fix you. You couldn’t even fix yourself.”

She couldn’t hide how much his words hurt her.

“And you are worthless,” He moved his free hand to grope her chest.

“I wouldn’t go as far to say entirely useless—” He squeezed one of her nipples hard enough
to make her whimper.

“—but you are inherently worthless. You should be thanking me for giving your pathetic
excuse of a life some semblance of meaning.”

“I’m not going to thank you for hurting me” she objected, anger cutting through her sobs.

“I actually hadn’t thought of that.” He considered her words as if they were a good idea.
“Next time.”

With that he climbed off of her, letting her go back to cowering in the corner.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, opening the folder of seemingly endless
documents in his lap.

She sniffled to herself softly across the room, sitting curled up at the top of the bed and
clearly not wanting him to see his words made her cry.

Maybe he was slightly mean to her, but she made it so easy. He didn’t have to be clever with
the way he taunted or threatened her, she reacted so well to the smallest bit of cruelty.

And of course, it was all part of his plan to break her.

He didn’t intend for her to think she was a burden solely to make her believe there was
nothing left for her back home, he wanted her to believe there was nothing for her, anywhere
at all.

It was also important to him that she learned he was her only source of human interaction,
and he liked that he could feel her fear of not knowing what he was going to do next— even
between the distance between them.

He ignored how much it turned him on to see her reaction to being called worthless, instead
turning his attention back to his work.

Finally he organized everything in a way that made sense to him, grabbing a pen and
underling the most important data he needed to start making his own analysis.

In this fiscal year of 2–

A loud sniffle from her broke his focus, making his eyes flick up to where she sat.

She wiped her free hand over her eyes then swiped her arm over her nose.

She was so fucking pretty when she cried.

He ignored her and continued his work, reminding himself that wasn’t why he was currently
down here.

But his thoughts betrayed him, and he missed being inside of her. He missed how despaired
she looked when he fucked her, and the look of discomfort on her face when he thrusted into
her as deeply as he could.

He ran a hand over his own face now, turning his thoughts back to his work.

Total net income for the year of—

She rested her forehead on her knees pulled to her chest and sobbed.

Shit.

He was on his feet before he could talk himself out of it, walking over to the bed and
towering over her small frame.

She jumped slightly when she realized he was standing there, the action reminding him of the
first time they met.

“Would you like me to give you a real reason to cry?”

She shook her head quickly but his hand was already on her ankle, yanking her flat on her
back in one swift motion.

He reached out to pin the wrist of her free hand down, forcing her thighs apart with his
knees.
“Look what you do to me.” He shook his head. “Can’t even focus on my work for ten
minutes without you making me want to fuck you senseless.”

She began pleading with him but he wasn’t listening, undoing his pants with his free hand.

“Don’t worry,” He smiled. “I’ll make sure you have something to cry about for the rest of the
day.”

She cried and tried pulling away from him, but by then his cock was already out and pressed
to her core.

"Stop fucking fighting me.”

He made sure his tone was loud enough for her to know he was deadly serious, and would
start resorting to the things she hated if she didn’t stop struggling.

It was very much worth it to pause his work to fuck her, the feeling of running the tip of his
cock up and down her slit alone making him feel like he had all he needed to cum.

But that didn’t come with as many tears as fucking her did, and he wanted to be buried inside
of her.

He didn’t waste any more time, slowly spreading her open until he was buried to the hilt.

The contrast of sound drove him crazy, her cries mixed with his loud moans of pleasure.

“So damn tight baby girl.”

She flinched at his words, but he was telling the truth.

She wrapped around him so tightly it was almost painful, but he fucked against the resistance
anyways.

Her pleas were growing loud and annoying so he covered her mouth.

He let his head fall back while her body tried to defend itself, making her grow more and
more wet with every thrust.

It only made him fuck into her harder, the sharpness of the thrusts making her wail into his
hand.

“Good girl.” He praised, letting go of her free hand to slip his own under her shirt.

She tried pushing him but he smacked her hand away roughly.

“Don’t.”

She thought better of it and he fucked into her deeply, glad she learned her lesson on trying to
hit him.
She felt so good. So fucking good. Every deep thrust sent shocks of pleasure through his
body, the tip of his cock pushing hard on her cervix with every movement.

Right there, right there.

It was more than enough to make him cum, but he wasn’t done with her just yet.

He pulled out to stave off his orgasm, feeling her muscles slightly relax under him.

“Thank me for hurting you.”

He removed his hand from over her face and she whimpered, visibly hating herself for giving
him the idea.

He was surprised when she murmured an audible “no”, moving to sink his cock back into her
and replace his hand over her mouth, this time making sure her nose was included.

“You don’t get to tell me no.” He scolded and pinned her other hand down.

“Especially not when it was your idea.”

He enjoyed feeling her writhe and squeeze around him as he took away her air supply.

She looked so sweet doing it, so helpless and terribly scared.

He let go when her chest started spasming, loud sobs filling the space between them.

“t-thank you for hurting me.” she stuttered innocently.

He replaced his hand and smiled. “Sorry. I couldn’t hear you.”

More tears and desperate writhes for air followed, making him grind his hips into her in tune
with her own movement.

He did hear her, he just wanted to hear her say it again.

And she did, exhaustion and defeat from nearly losing consciousness filling her voice.

“Thank you for hurting me.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked down at her with a taunting smile. “Anytime.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond to his jest and continued fucking into her roughly,
looping his fingers into her free hand and pinning it to the bed.

She squeezed all of the pain she felt into his hand and he played with fucking her harder, just
to see how much he was hurting her.

He could feel that she was in so much pain she didn’t realize the intimacy of it, the thought
pushing him closer to the edge.
“My worthless girl.” He groaned. “You take it so well for me.”

He didn’t give her a chance to do anything else but take what he gave her. But nevertheless,
she was taking it.

His hand slipped away from hers regretfully, pulling it behind her back.

“Keep that there.”

He cherished the cries of a few more rough thrusts before climbing off of her, pulling her jaw
towards the edge of the bed.

“Open.” He jerked off close to her face.

Her eyes went wider at the realization of what he was going to do again, and a string of pleas
followed.

God he didn’t want to hear it right now. He wanted to cum badly, and promised himself if she
ruined this orgasm for him he was going to untie her and beat her until he drew blood, injury
or not.

“Open your fucking mouth.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair.

She obeyed and he forced it open the rest of the way with his free hand, intentionally
groaning with no restraint so she knew what she did to him.

He let out a pleasure filled sigh and opened his eyes, looking down to see some of his cum
spilled down her cheek.

He followed the trail with his finger until it was back inside of her mouth.

“Swallow it.”

Her whole body visibly shook as she did what he told her to.

“What do you say if you want to rest?” He questioned.

She sobbed, swiping her hand over her mouth.

“I can’t—“

“You can’t?” He tsked. “Well I have no problem with fucking you again until you’re ready to
say it.”

If looks could kill, the one she gave him for making her choose between something awful or
something even more awful would’ve killed him.

“I love you.”

“There.” He smiled. “Now you have a reason to cry.”

 He'd already learned a couple important things today.

She looked so cute with his cum in her mouth, and it was going to be very impossible for him
to get his work done if she was anywhere nearby.

Chapter End Notes

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 8: Day 2: Part III
Chapter Summary

the first time he makes her feel good.

Chapter Notes

WARNING: this will be the last chapter before things start getting drastically more
fucked up than they already are.

i always appreciate all of your comments & wishes for the story so much!! thank you for
being here and enjoying their twisted journey as much as i do <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

She cried the entire time, but she was thankful he let her use the bathroom again before he
left silently.

He cuffed her hand back to the bed before placing a soft kiss on her forehead, the action
filling her with the false hope that he was done being so rough for the day.

She wondered what the papers were that he gathered and took with him, figuring it was all of
the work that he told her she distracted him from.

She didn’t care to give it a second thought, and she didn’t care enough about him to ask what
his job was.

The taste of his cum still lingered in her mouth.

She decided to eat some of the protein bar he’d given her, reaching for it from the edge of the
bed and struggling to open it with one hand.

It gave way when she ripped it open with her teeth, taking a small enough bite to get the taste
out of her mouth.

Thankfully it seemed to work, and so did the anti-inflammatory he’d given her.

She hated herself for obeying his commands to swallow.

She hated that she found herself thankful for his solutions to the problems that he created.
Her body was sore.

She wondered how much more of this she could take, and how long he planned on keeping
her.

Maybe he’d been lying to her the entire time.

Maybe all of this was just a means to his own end, and when she finally started being more
agreeable he’d kill her.

It made the panic rise in her chest, heavy and all consuming.

She swung around the most the handcuffs would allow and placed both of her feet on the
floor, desperately trying to ground herself.

Ever since she’d woken up in the basement, anything she previously learned to help cope in
moments of panic was now unsuccessful.

She gently tapped her fingers on her collarbone in tune with a normal heart rate, sobbing to
herself as she failed to get him out of her head.

It wasn’t working.

She gave into the heavy breathing and curled into a ball, impending doom that she was going
to lose consciousness making her feel sick with worry.

It was already a scary enough feeling without the added memory of him stopping her airflow.

She sat up again, trying to stop her tears. If anything, she could control that. It took a moment
but they slowed, silence and her rapid heart rate now the only things she could hear.

Slowly, the hammering in her chest began to fade to something that didn’t make her feel
moments away from a heart attack.

She exchanged the panic for her tears, curling back into a ball while her mind spiraled over
everything that happened since the morning.

His words still stung.

“The only thing you being alive did was make everyone around you feel bad for not being
able to fix you.”

She didn’t want to believe him, but there were certain things he was right about.

Was he right about everything?

He was right about her being sad before him. He was right about her thoughts of wanting to
die.

No.
It didn’t matter if he just so happened to guess a few things correctly.

She didn’t want to let him inside of her head, let him make her question what she knew to be
the actual truth.

Even if it was starting to slip away from her.

When the basement door opened again, the minimal shadows of light within it shifted.

She’d fallen into a dreamless sleep, but she didn’t know for how long.

He appeared to be in a bit of a rush, barely giving her the chance to stand after he uncuffed
her hand and gestured for her to walk towards the bathroom.

She kept her desire to disobey him hidden, telling herself that a bath wasn’t as bad as
anything else he’d made her do.

He followed her to the bathroom and she frowned upon not seeing anything indicating he
intended to bathe her, turning back to look at him.

The door shut behind him as he backed into it and gestured to the counter, his hands lowering
to the button on his jeans.

“Bend over.”

She wrapped her arms around herself in fear, too afraid to move and too afraid to say no.

He sighed with annoyance and forced her over the edge of it anyways, slapping a hand over
her ass sharp enough to make her whine.

“I have ten minutes until a phone meeting. After this you’ll be all done for the day. Do you
think you can be a good girl for ten minutes?”

She barely nodded and he wasn’t satisfied, slapping a sharper hand over her ass that she knew
was already forming a handprint.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.” she began crying with a nod.

“Good.”

She noticed both of her hands were uncuffed at the same time he grabbed them to pin behind
her back, his other hand moving to free his cock.

He smiled at her small jump when he ran it up and down her folds, tightening her hands into
fists when he switched to running it back and forth over her clit.
She winced when he pushed his hips forward, thankful that he didn’t force all of it at once.
She refused to let herself think about how big he actually was.

Instead she struggled and whimpered to herself, shutting her eyes in an attempt to tune out
his moans of enjoyment.

“Don’t close your eyes,” He discouraged, grabbing a handful of her hair before yanking her
up to his chest. “Look how cute you look taking my cock.”

She didn’t want to open her eyes, still refusing to look at herself in the mirror. Especially not
while he violated her.

He brought a hand up to twist her nipple, the pain sharp and aching enough to make her open
them anyways.

“See?” He smiled, resting his chin on top of her head. “So pretty.”

She stared at both of their appearances, the contrast in their looks glaringly obvious.

He was well groomed, clean, and overall appeared more than presentable.

Her hair was partially tangled in random places, face stained with tears, and her cheeks were
riddled with the bruises he’d given her.

He beamed brightly anyways, like the way she looked now was all of his own handiwork.

And really, it was.

He kept his eyes locked on hers then kissed up her jaw.

“Keep your eyes open or I’ll skip the meeting and visit you every hour until the morning.”

Her face fell as his smile grew, and he didn’t give her the chance to agree or disagree.

She whimpered as he bent her over again, resting his hands on her hips before fucking into
her slowly.

His thrusts became more harsh right before his cock reached the deepest parts of her, making
her squirm and contort her face in pain.

“What’s wrong?” He soothed a hand over the mark of his handprint on her skin.

It didn’t appear to be a hypothetical question, and thus far he was being gentle. At least— his
own version of gentle.

She decided to be honest.

“It hurts when you do that.” she murmured softly.

“Do what?” He sounded genuinely curious.

He thrusted into her roughly when she opened her mouth to speak, savoring the look of pain
and betrayal on her face.

The pace continued and she struggled to keep up, loudly crying to herself and somehow
feeling more restrained in her current position than she did in handcuffs.

She knew she would be feeling this for a while.

He pulled out with a satisfied sigh after a few more thrusts, pulling her up until her back
rested against his chest.

“So perfect.” He whispered in her ear, planting kisses up her neck and on the side of her face.

“My pretty little thing.”

She didn’t want to be called that. She didn’t want to be his anything, and she didn’t want to
be property.

It was almost as if he could feel her aversion, making him smile against her temple.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

She looked at him in the mirror as tears slipped down her chin.

She wasn’t sure how someone with such a dark and deep seated obsession with her came to
be part of her life, but she cursed every day that led to their paths crossing.

No, she wasn’t his.

She shook her head at his instruction and knew it was a bad decision, especially since he was
still inside of her.

“Hm.” He nodded, and she could tell he was thinking up the worst.

“That’s one day without food. Two without your medication.”

The thought scared her. But she’d gone longer without both.

He pulled her hands from behind her back and placed them flat on the counter, hovering over
her further.

She stayed silent.

“Two without food,” He paused to kiss her shoulder. “Three without medication.”

“You can’t do that” she interjected with a sob. “You’ll kill me—”

“It’ll make you miserable, but it won’t kill you.”

She considered his words, knowing deep down that he was right. She didn’t want to be even
weaker than she already was and have terrible withdrawal symptoms, not when she was
barely keeping it together now.

“I’m yours.” she whispered.

“That wasn’t that hard, now was it?” He pushed a strand of hair away from her face before
slamming her back onto her stomach.

She cried with her cheek against the cold countertop, every drag and thrust of his cock
making him groan louder and louder.

It felt impossibly deeper this way, every push against her cervix making her cry out in tandem
with his pace.

He must’ve felt a difference too, the sensation making him close his eyes in bliss.

She tried to tune him out the best she could.

He fucked into her so deeply that her body jolted forward, his hand moving to rest on the side
of her face.

”Fuck—“ He growled.

It never failed to make her feel even more low to know he was getting such an intense
amount of pleasure from using her, but it at least signaled to her that he’d be done soon.

She was thankful at first, right until he pulled out and forced her to her knees.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and she wept harder, not wanting to swallow his cum ever
again— let alone for the third time that day.

But he didn’t reach to hold her mouth open.

She realized what that meant a split second too late.

He finished on her face, holding her steady as she thrashed and ensured it was as widespread
as he could make it.

She cried hard with no restraint, making her shoulders shake with every heavy inhale.

He jerked the last few drops over her lips before he tucked himself away with a satisfied sigh,
not giving her a moment of reprieve.

“Normally I’d love to watch you cry—“ He interrupted her sobs.

“But right now I don’t have the time. Stand up.”

He yanked her up when it wasn’t fast enough for his liking, twisting her towards the mirror.

“Well would you look at that.” He smirked proudly. “Even more perfect with my cum all over
you.”
She looked at her reflection and regretted it instantly, feeling something she was very familiar
with, but now felt with the most profound intensity she ever had in her entire life.

Worthlessness.

He moved to grab a small towel from one of the drawers and turned on the water, running it
under the faucet as soon as it became warm.

His movements were soft as he gently wiped her face clean.

She shoved away the feeling of comfort it gave her, knowing he could change his mind at the
flip of a switch and decide to hurt her again.

His eyes stayed fixed on his task, patting her skin dry after letting her rinse her own face.

Finally, it was over.

But there was still another day, and another after that. She pursed her lips together as he
followed her back to the bed.

She couldn’t think about that, not now.

Somehow she made it through another day with him. She couldn’t focus on how much longer
she’d be here— not if she wanted to stay sane.

He cuffed one of her wrists to the bed after she sat down and reached for the other one.

She gave her hand to him with slight hesitation before questioning it, not wanting him to
become angry again.

“I….can’t sleep with both of my hands tied.” she muttered.

“You’re not going to sleep yet.” He replied without looking at her.

Her heart rate sped up slightly. “But you said—“

He shushed her with a drawn out whisper then kissed her forehead.

“I’ll be back to tuck you in.” He turned for the stairs.

She didn’t know what that meant. That made the wait even worse.

She wished she knew how long she cried until he returned, or at least knew what time it was.

Having both of her hands restrained was awful, and she hated how vulnerable it left her.

She found herself wishing he’d come back, solely so he could get whatever he had planned
for her over with.
When the door finally opened she whined to herself unconsciously, sitting up to back into the
corner.

“I’m sleepy.” she frowned before he even approached her.

He smiled in response, clearly recognizing it as an attempt to evade him.

She held her breath as he climbed over her then gently pulled her onto her back, positioning
himself between her legs.

“You know,” He started. “You’ve made me feel so good sweet girl.”

She swallowed back tears and hoped he’d make whatever this was quick.

“Nothing and no one has ever made me feel as good as you do. But I was thinking…I’ve
been selfish.”

That was one of the last words she would use to describe him.

“I haven’t made you feel very good, have I?”

She held her breath as his fingers grazed down her stomach and found her clit, pulling away
from him on instinct.

“I don’t want—“ she trailed off, the circles on her clit making her hold her breath.

“You don’t want to feel good?” He leaned in closer to her face, his voice falling to something
lower—something almost sweet. “Do you like it better when I hurt you?”

She didn’t dare try taking her eyes off his own, shaking her head in response.

“I know you don’t.” He nodded. “And I know you’re tired.”

Maybe this mental wordplay was all he planned to do. Maybe he would just let her sleep.

“So, I’m letting you go to bed early. Right after you cum for me.”

Her heart fluttered with panic. There was no way he wanted her to do that. She couldn’t.

“I—I can’t.“ she shook her head immediately with a whisper, tears starting to slip down her
temples.

“You can.” He encouraged gently, fingers slowly picking up speed.

She never wanted a single thing he’d done to her, and she really didn’t want this.

Nobody had ever made her orgasm before, except for herself.

Her drive for sex declined a long time ago, just as her mental health did.
“And before you think about it—“ He interrupted her thoughts, “There’s no use faking it. We
both know how sensitive you are.”

He took his fingers away and softly ran his middle finger over her slit, making her
involuntarily tense her thighs around him.

“Good girl.” He smiled.

“I can’t—” she pleaded again.

She desperately did not want him to be the first person to make her orgasm.

He shushed her and continued rubbing her clit in slow circles.

“Relax pretty girl. All you have to do is lay down and feel good. That’s not so bad, is it?”

She was mentally exhausted, physically drained, tired, and sore.

There were far worse things he could be doing to her, and he promised to let her sleep
afterwards.

She cried regardless, wishing she could pull away as his mouth met her neck.

His lips were warm as they trailed over her skin.

“Such a good girl for me.” He kissed down the uncovered skin of her chest.

“So fucking pretty.”

His hands pulled away from her clit as he lowered to her stomach, pulling her shirt up slowly
before peppering kisses around her navel.

She didn’t like it. It was too intimate, too confusing.

Her body slowly started to react anyways, the slight drag of his tongue across her skin
proving to be too overwhelming.

He spread her legs open wider before kissing the tops of her inner thighs.

“We don’t need to go over what will happen if you try kicking me, do we?”

She shook her head at him, bitter at the memory of the first time she did.

“Good.”

His mouth was coming much too close for her liking.

“I remember the first time I saw you.” He said between lowering kisses.

“And maybe you remember it— maybe you don’t.”

She remembered, but she never planned on telling him so.

“But in that moment I knew, somehow you were going to be mine. No matter what I had to
do.”

He chuckled to himself, his warm breath hitting her bare slit.

“I had to pull over and get myself off before I drove back home. Just from looking at you.
That’s what you do to me.”

She hated that she had to look between her legs in order to see him.

“You’re mine.” He stated firmly. “You always will be. Even if I were to let you go—I will
always live in that pretty little fucked up head of yours.”

She desperately wanted to believe he wasn’t right.

“And you don’t have to believe me. In fact, you can hate me. But that’s going to be hard to do
while you cum in my mouth, isn’t it?”

She tried to pull away but there was nowhere to move.

He pushed his hand on her hip and pinned it down to the bed, his voice growing even more
firm.

“One of the many things I wanted to do when I saw you was taste you— bury my face into
your pretty cunt until you cried for me. Do not do make me hurt you. That’s not what we’re
doing. Not right now.”

She could tell this was something he wanted for a long time, and what he was actually telling
her was not to ruin it for him.

But she also didn’t want to be raped, held captive, mentally and emotionally abused or
forced.

She couldn’t begin to fathom how unfair this was. What about what she wanted?

He deemed her smart enough to not try fighting him, situating himself to rest on his elbows.

She jumped as he pressed his lips to her clit, gently kissing the tiny bundle of nerves before
barely brushing his tongue over it.

Her calves twitched at the direct contact, his mouth sinking lower to spread her folds with his
tongue.

She cried and stayed as still as she could, not knowing how to feel. He wasn’t hurting her, he
was being gentle. By comparison, it could’ve been so much worse.

Should she be thankful?

Her thoughts were interrupted as he ran the tip of his tongue firmly back and forth over her
slit.

She bit into her lower lip and slightly moved, the handcuffs making a low clang on the
headboard.

This was too intimate. Her body was too sensitive. She hoped he could somehow be satisfied
without making her get something from this.

“God you taste so good sweetheart.”

She flinched at being called something endearing, abruptly becoming taken aback for a
different reason.

He spread her legs wider and buried his tongue inside of her, gently fucking his tongue into
her hole.

It slightly ached due to the way he used her earlier, but the pleasure outweighed it, and her
body was full on betraying her.

She pursed her lips together and struggled to stay silent.

It felt— she searched her mind to find any other word besides something pleasurable—
different. She was still crying, and still desperately wanted it to be over.

He pulled away with a wet mouth and chin, visibly drunk on the taste of her.

“So good.” He muttered.

She couldn’t hide the whine as he buried his face between her legs, sucking and licking so
passionately that it only stacked the pleasure she didn’t want.

He seemed to be trying to find what she liked, every so often switching up the rhythm and
technique of his tongue.

She whimpered a little too loudly when it firmly flicked up and down over her clit, making
him pull away with a chuckle.

“Well that didn’t take long, did it?”

“Please …” she pleaded one more time.

“So greedy.” He tsked. “I already told you I’m going to make you cum pretty girl. You don’t
have to beg me.”

She was pleading with him to stop, not to keep going. But of course he loved to make her feel
stupid, and to make her think that she actually wanted it.

He grinned before diving his face back between her legs, firmly licking her clit in the way
that pulled the most response from her.
Her mind was spinning as the pleasure built in her lower stomach.

She hated herself.

This man had brought her so much terror, so much pain— she should be stronger.

It quickly became a battle of body vs. mind, her legs beginning to twitch as she struggled to
keep quiet.

But it was a battle she was quickly losing.

Every moan he gave against her only brought her closer to the edge, and his lips were
impossibly soft.

She couldn’t tell if they’d always been that way, or if he was always just too rough for her to
notice.

His tongue sped up as she desperately tried to focus on staying away from the edge.

Oh no. No no no no no.

Whatever he was doing felt good. She’d never even made herself feel this good before.

The feeling soothed every ache in her body and made her involuntarily roll her eyes with a
flutter until she closed them, desperately hoping he didn’t see it.

Her head was becoming too preoccupied with sensation to remember to hide her moans.

She didn’t want him to know that it felt good. She couldn’t let him have even more power
over her.

But there was nothing she could do. Her hips lifted to his mouth slightly, and she was unsure
if she did it first or if her body was naturally chasing the building orgasm.

Maybe he was right about everything.

She was pathetic.

She couldn’t control how it felt, and now she was going to come apart on her rapists tongue.

“Wait—“ she choked out. “Please please stop I’m gonna —“

He pinned her thighs open wider and kept all of his attention on her wanting clit.

She tensed as her body begged her to let go, desperate to feel something good after two days
of torture.

The dam broke and so did she, hips grinding into his mouth as an intense orgasm coursed
through her body.

He didn’t let up for a second, mouth curling into a smile as she fought against euphoria.
Every nerve ending in her body turned to bliss as she started shaking, tearfully biting into her
arm to muffle her whimpers.

She didn’t know it was possible to feel so good.

Her moans quickly turned into sobs, the realization of what just happened settling in.

She hated her body. She hated herself.

“Look how hard you came for me.” He praised. “Good fucking girl.”

She thought it was over, but he wasn’t satisfied.

He moved his hands behind her knees and pinned them down, burying his tongue back inside
of her before she could catch her breath.

She whimpered in exhaustion and pulled at the handcuffs.

“Fuck—“ she sobbed with a whine. “please stop—“

His grip on her didn’t let up, determined to insatiably swirl his tongue around her walls the
mo st that he could.

He licked back up to her clit until she started shaking, begging him the most desperately she
had since she first woke up.

“Please stop, please please I can’t—“

He pulled away with a firm suck to her clit as her tears fell without letting up, exhausted
from overstimulation.

He kissed up her thighs silently, up her stomach, and back over the partially uncovered skin
of her chest until he was right back where he started.

She couldn’t look at him, but he remedied that quickly.

“You did so good for me.” He grabbed her chin. “I didn’t know you could be so loud.”

She blinked away her tears, desperately wanting it to be over. But there was only one way he
was going to let her rest.

“I love you.”

He briefly looked surprised at her for saying it without being prompted, quickly replacing his
expression with satisfaction.

“Can I sleep now?” she muttered.

He smiled proudly and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“Of course you can sweet girl.”

Chapter End Notes

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 9: Day 3: Part I
Chapter Summary

shared pov

Chapter Notes

WARNING:

trigger warning for quite literally anything & everything that has to do with
depression/suicidal thoughts. this chapter is a wild ride and i myself had to take a break
while writing it. he says a lot of harmful things, and none of them are true. she does
some harmful things, and none of it is wise. please do not copy anything in this chapter.

and most of all, please put yourself first and know your limits!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

He'd never been so satisfied.

Her current condition of anguish and despair was even more horrible than he imagined would
be possible to inflict, and he took immense pride in his craftsmanship.

There wasn't a perfect moment for him to carry out this certain desire— she was already
broken well before she was his.

But he could see it in the way the hope slowly faded from her eyes, and she began to visibly
convince herself that fighting back was useless.

She was ready for something darker.

He sipped his morning coffee and stared at his emails, feeling extraordinarily calm given the
plans he had for her today.
He had woken up early to spend at least two hours working in his office, not only because he
needed to maintain a consistent schedule, but mostly because he wanted to keep her guessing
what the day would bring.

Despite everything that took place within the past few days, his work was coming together
smoothly.

He sat through the previous days virtual meetings and phone calls with his (mostly) undivided
attention, talking and delegating so normally that a girl being held captive in his basement
would be the last thing anyone would suspect.

And of course, he wouldn't want them to. Especially not when he had her in the exact space
he wanted her to be in.

Perhaps his career was partly to blame for it, but he could never shut his analyzing brain
completely off.

He monitored, absorbed, and anticipated her reaction to everything he did, and every single
one of his actions had a reason behind them.

Even making her cum on his tongue had its purpose.

Despite how much it turned him on physically, he could feel how desperately she was
fighting against her mind and body before giving into the orgasm— which was quickly
replaced with self-loathing.

It was far too easy to make her feel that way, and he had no intention to placate her own
mental cruelties. He needed her to stay that way for what he had planned.

He checked the time as he wrapped up on prepping a presentation, frowning at the sound of

his phone ringing.

Thankfully it was only a friend, and not another call to delay him from seeing her for another
hour.

"Hey man, where've you been?"

Shit. He'd done everything seamlessly the past few days, save for keeping in normal contact
with anyone outside of work.

His natural charisma took over, easily covering up his recent absence.

He explained part of the truth that he had gotten caught up with work, and when it came to
her- he blatantly lied.

"I've been working on some things around the house."

"Ah," He could practically hear his friend nodding through the phone. "And here I was
thinking you'd finally been away with some girl for the past week."
Well... he wasn't entirely wrong.

"No." He laughed at the irony. "Just working."

"Oh come on man," His friend started his usual berating. "I'm a doctor and I still make more
time than you do to go out on dates."

"You're also married." He finished the changes to his presentation with a few clicks,
preparing to go down to the basement.

"That proves my point, and that's why you're coming out with us tonight."

He hid a sigh and shook his head.

"Not tonight. There's too much going on."

He allowed his friend to rant about his usual ramblings regarding his life, how badly he
wanted him to get out of his "not wanting to date phase", that every woman he came into
contact with would leap at the chance to be with the "Shy handsome and successful
businessman that lives all alone in a big empty house."

"I'm far from shy." He took fake offense and smiled at the compliment.

"Oh, my apologies-" His friend corrected sarcastically. "The reserved handsome and
successful businessman that lives all alone in a big empty house."

"Much better."

They both laughed shortly before he interrupted with a promise to see him and their other
friends sometime in the following days, still a little too uncomfortable with the thought of
leaving her alone.

"Alright." He agreed to his offer. "I'll see you then. Drinks on you."

"Sure." He nodded, unbothered by the inevitable cost. "See you then."

He hung up his phone feeling relieved, but now faced with the reality that eventually he
would have to leave her. But not yet.

As of right now the girl he still dreamt about sat battered in his basement, fearfully waiting
on his return.

He took another sip of his coffee and set it down, deliberately leaving her medication behind.

It didn’t take long for him to grab the materials he needed for the day, turning the handle to
the basement with the items in tow.
He didn’t want her to have questions about it just yet so he put half of them in the bathroom,
then placed two containers and a water bottle on the stand near the bed.

She sat in the corner just as frightened as she always was, staring between him and whatever
he’d just put down.

“Good morning sweet girl.”

She stared at him silently.

He would’ve pulled her up by her hair for not answering him if it were any other day, but he
knew his plans would go over smoothly if he acted kindly.

“Did you sleep well?”

She looked up at him and shook her head slowly.

“I’m sorry about that.” He sounded sincere. “I’ll make sure you get some sleep later.”

He reached to undo the handcuff from her wrist, generous enough to switch her restraints to
one hand before leaving silently the night before.

She looked puzzled when he reached his hand out to her, staring at him like it was some sort
of ploy to butter her up for something terrible.

Smart girl.

She took his hand despite her reservations, letting him gently help her up to her feet.

He let go once she stood up then gestured for her to follow him, her face filled with
apprehension as she visibly recalled the last time she followed him to the bathroom.

She crossed her arms around herself and stared at the ground once they were there, too
ashamed from the night before to meet his gaze.

“I’m not going to hurt you today.” He began as he leaned against the doorframe.

She furrowed her eyebrows for one second before questioning him.

“What do you mean?” she muttered softly.

“I mean exactly what I said. You can brush your teeth, use the bathroom, shower— I won’t
help you this time.”

She considered his words for a moment.

“Do you have to watch?” Her voice came out small and careful as to not seem ungrateful.

“I do.” He nodded. “The last time I left you unhandcuffed for more than thirty seconds, you
took off running.”
She pursed her lips and looked at the counter, finally looking at the items placed on top of a
towel and another one of his folded shirts.

“They’re yours.” He encouraged. “Use what you want.”

She looked slightly scared and hesitated, but reached for the bottle of soap anyways.

He watched as she used the bathroom then turned on the shower and waited for the water to
be warm enough, quickly discarding her shirt before getting in.

It wouldn’t have made a difference how quickly she got undressed, he was still keeping an
eye on her.

“Can I close this?” she timidly gestured to the shower curtain.

If it weren’t for his plans, he would’ve told her no. But he didn’t think humiliating her and
making her feel even more hateful towards him would be beneficial, at least not now.

She would hate him again soon enough.

He walked over to close it himself, just enough for him to still be able to see her movements.

Everything about her was perfect. He’d never get tired of thinking so, and he would never
lose the excitement he got from seeing her— or her body.

He reminded himself of his own promise to her as he watched the water trickle softly down
her skin.

His darker thoughts vanished after a few moments, satisfied after he reassured himself that he
would be back to fucking her mercilessly soon enough.

She didn’t take as long as he anticipated, eventually turning off the water and reaching to pull
the towel into the shower.

The way she still wanted to hide herself from him was adorable, especially since he’d already
seen every part of her.

He observed her actions anyway, taking note of whatever made her comfortable.

She made sure her hair wasn’t dripping then wrapped the towel around her body, patting her
skin dry before pulling his plain tshirt over her head.

He watched as she didn’t bother brushing her hair, instead tying it back with one of the
elastics he put in a bag of toiletries.

“Here.” He reached out to take the brush from her hand, ignoring her hesitation as he began
to run it through its wet tangles.

It was fairly intimate, even for him. He’d never done this for any woman before.
She kept her gaze down towards the counter, arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

His thoughts drifted back to when he first met her.

For so long, he could only fantasize about moments like these. And sure, he loved to hurt her.
He loved seeing betrayal and anguish in her eyes, manipulating her mental state so easily, and
pushing her further and further to a breaking point with every passing day.

But even if it didn't make any sort of rational sense, he still valued her overall.

He set the brush to the side when he finished, letting her move onto the next thing.

She brushed and flossed her teeth the best she could without looking at her reflection, finally
meeting his gaze when she finished.

“All done?” He confirmed.

She swiped her hand over the toothpaste on the side of her mouth and nodded, the innocence
of the action perverted by his wish for her to be wiping away something else.

He lifted his hand to the side of her face and stroked his thumb under her chin, forcing her to
look at him.

“How are you feeling?”

She looked exactly how anyone who was abused then asked about it afterwards would look
and shook her head, visibly unsure of why he was being so gentle.

“I’m okay.” she murmured.

He knew she was lying, and of course he didn’t expect her to be doing great. His actions were
being done solely in an effort to make her feel worse.

“Good.” He leaned in to press his lips to hers.

Her muscles tensed and she didn't kiss him back. He gazed down at her and smiled, lifting his
spare hand to push a damp lock of hair behind her ear.

“You’re so very pretty sweet girl.”

He let his hand fall to her neck, the slight pounding of her heartbeat pulsing into his palm.

“I know I’ve hurt you before.” He began gently. “But I’m not going to hurt you today.”

He could faintly feel her heart speed up anyway, and it made him smile.

“I also know that you think I’m mean, and that I must hate you. But I don’t. Not even a little.
Actually—" His smile widened.

"I have something for you.”

She looked up at him with slight curiosity, the apprehension painted across her face slowly
fading.

He grabbed her hand and led her back to the bed, fighting his joy at how blissfully unaware
she was at what was going to follow.

She didn’t know why he was acting so kindly, nor did she want to question it.

To her, him allowing her to shower almost by herself was something good.

Her mind was still reeling from the night before, the shame still heavy in every part of her
body. She shoved away the memory of his face between her thighs as she followed him.

Was he really as horrible as he made himself seem up until now?

The question played in her mind as he led her to sit on the edge of the bed, handcuffs still
sitting near the headboard.

She didn’t know what to make of his sudden kindness.

He pulled up the same chair he sat in when she first woke up three days ago, pulling it closer
until their knees were nearly touching.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” He started as he reached for a white box on the stand next to
the bed. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

She pursed her lips together out of his gaze, hoping he wasn’t actually expecting a response.

He gazed over to her and her muscles went tense.

“Yes.” she muttered with a slow nod.

“Mhm.” He praised in response before dropping the box next to her on the bed. “And you
haven’t got much to show for it.”

What did that mean?

He ran his hands over her arms and slid them down until both of her hands were held in his.

She didn’t like how focused he was— his movements looked intentional.

“Tell me,” He flipped her hands over to stare at her forearms. “Have you ever cut yourself?”

Her chest went impossibly tight. Why was he asking her this?

She shook her head quickly.

“No?” He raised his eyebrows once, pausing his movements to run his fingertips over her
wrists. “Hm.”
He stared at the smoothness of her skin and nodded.

She didn’t like where this was going.

“Like I said, —like you said— you’re mine. You should have something to show that you
are, no?”

She obviously didn’t think so, but was too preoccupied with trying to understand what he had
planned to respond.

“So,” He stared into her eyes as if this were the most normal conversation on the planet.
“You’re going to cut yourself. Once.”

The level of panic that switched on in her brain felt primal.

What the fuck? What the fuck—

Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, the same feeling that sent her nervous system
into a panic when she first woke up now reactivated.

“No.” she refused. “I can’t— I don’t—“

He shushed her immediately, interjecting with confidence.

“You can.” He assured her calmly. “And you will.”

Her chest went tighter as she shuddered, realizing he was serious.

“No.” she hyperventilated as tears began to slip down her cheeks. “I’m not doing that.”

“Do you really think you’re in a position to tell me no?" He questioned. "You’re already
going to be without food and your medication for two more days, at least. Not to mention—
there are countless things I can do to convince you.”

“but—“ she sputtered and tried to catch her breath. “You said you weren’t going to hurt me
—“

“I did.” He nodded. “And I’m not going to. But I never said anything about you hurting
yourself.”

She whined and failed to pull her wrists out of his grasp.

“I can’t, please—“

He admired her fear as he interrupted her desperate pleas.

"This is a little overboard, don't you think?"

She didn't want to listen to his degradation or twisted rationalizations.

"Let me go." she insisted through her sobs.

"You know I'm not going to do that." He almost smiled.

Her anger at the world filled her veins, making her forget about the person he turned into
when he got angry.

"I hate you." she cried the words out before she could filter them.

"I hate you so much more than I've ever hated anything—and every time you leave I wish you
would just fucking die."

He seemed amused at her boldness, which only made her feel more insane.

"Nobody in the entire world knows you're down here sweet girl." He smiled.

"So if I were to go off and just 'fucking die', that would leave you in another bad situation
entirely, don't you think?"

She couldn’t listen anymore, her red eyes searching his face for any sign of humanity.

Finally, after three days with him—she saw it. The realization made her chest fall.

There wasn't any at all.

"You're fucking crazy." she barely whispered.

He forced her onto her back with both of her hands still in his grasp.

"Only for you sweet girl."

She tried to pull her hands away from him, sobbing harder when she realized it was useless.

"Speaking of which—“ He ignored her tears.

“It's funny that you're pointing fingers. Last time I checked, you're the one that's on
medication."

She looked away from him, but was unable to cover her ears.

"And—you're also the one who orgasmed very hard after five minutes of me tasting you, did
you not?”

A heavy pit of self disdain was in her stomach ever since she had.

“—If you ask me, feeling that good from someone who gets off on seeing your pretty little
tears makes you the crazy one."

He didn't mind that she ignored him, it was impossible for her not to hear him.

"Do you know the psychology behind self-harm?"

Of course she did. She’d considered it many times before.

Her wet eyes met his and she shook her head. "Please stop."

"There's no books down here," He continued as if he couldn't hear her. "So I'll enlighten
you."

"Most studies show that people do it to feel better. They think they deserve it, or— there's so
much pain inside that they want to feel on the outside for once. Almost as if it's better to feel
physical pain instead of only feeling it emotionally."

His words triggered her so terribly that she felt physically sick.

"There's a lot more that I wish I knew about you." He said truthfully.

"But what I do know, is there was a lot going on inside of your head before I even got to it.
So view this as my gift to you for being a mostly good girl for the past few days. It'll hurt for
a while, but we both know that it could never compare to the pain inside of you."

She couldn't believe he was so self-assured that it almost made sense.

"I can't." she whispered and shook her head.

He nodded with fake understanding and firmly grabbed her chin.

"What exactly do you think you have to go back to?"

She frowned with confusion, trying to appeal to a side of him that didn't exist.

"I- I have a family who loves me and-"

"The very same family you were a burden to." He shook his head as if he was tired of hearing
her mention it.

"I wasn't—" she objected softly.

"You were." He interrupted. "And if you were anything then like you are now, you died to
them a long time ago."

She preferred that he would've slapped her across the face instead.

"Listen to me sweet girl. I've never lied to you, and I never will."

Her thoughts were now too far gone to remember if he had ever lied to her or not.

"Every single terrible thought you've ever had about yourself is true. You are worthless,
almost completely useless, and you were right to think everyone else would have been better
off without you around. But I have plenty of use for you. It's not always in the way you'd like,
but it's better this way, isn't it?”

She blinked up at him through wet eyelashes, dangerously unaware of how vulnerable of a
place his words had accessed deep inside of her mind.
“You can't hurt anyone anymore here with me."

She was growing to find it impossible not to believe the terrible things she thought about
herself, when all he did was confirm and embed them deeper into her mind.

Suddenly she realized how thoroughly and mentally tired the past few days had made her
feel.

"They told me I shouldn't hurt myself." she started tiny. "Because it won't fix anything."

"It won't." He said confidently. "But don't you think it'll make you feel better?"

His words made her mind spin. The anger she had towards him seemed so far away, as if he
made this request a week before.

"I don't know." she said honestly.

He pulled her up to a sitting position then sat back down in the seat across from her.

She stared as he grabbed a new razor from the white box that she now identified as a first aid
kit, the sight making her feel like she wasn't in her body.

But she was still the most present that she ever had been, all at once.

"I have a couple rules," He started as he pulled the paper cover away and revealed an
impossibly sharp blade.

"Not too deep. Just do right here-" He ran his fingertip horizontally over her inner wrist,
"And I'll take care of it as soon as you're done."

She stared at him quizzically, stuck in an odd headspace she couldn't put a name on.

"Okay."

"And," He pulled the blade away before placing it into her hand. "I will stop you before you
can even think about doing any real damage. To either of us."

The thought hadn't crossed her mind.

"Okay." she agreed softly as he dropped the blade into her shaking hand.

She lined the tip of it up with the place he told her to start, searching his eyes for any sign to
stop.

He didn't give her one. She swore she could see his eyes turn completely dark through her
tears.

She turned her attention to her wrist and played with the sharpness of it, wincing as the tip of
it dug into her skin.
It filled every nerve in her body with something awful and dark, so abundant and
overwhelming that it overloaded all of her previous emotions.

She couldn't feel the pain of being there anymore.

All of it was transferred into her wrist, and as much as she didn't want to admit it— somehow
it did feel good.

She was in control of her pain now.

It was all that she needed to drag the blade further, biting into her lip with a sob as it easily
sliced through her skin.

And just like that, it was over.

The realization hit her as soon as the blood welled up from her self-inflicted wound, making
her shoulders shake in panic.

What the fuck did she just do?

The blade clattered to the ground as she wrapped the hand of her uninjured arm around her
forearm.

It felt like an eternity before he reacted, but she couldn't be sure. The world was frozen.

She hadn't felt anything so viscerally since she woke up three days ago, her shoulders shaking
wildly as she struggled to take in a breath.

"Come here."

He pulled her into his lap and she tried fighting it, quickly losing her fight in an attempt to
not injure herself further.

Her injured arm hung away from the two of them as she wrapped her arm around his neck
and sobbed into his shoulder, momentarily forgetting that the person comforting her was the
only reason she did it.

"You did such a good job sweet girl." He kissed her shoulder and wrapped his arms around
her tighter.

She pulled away and stared into his eyes, her face falling in defeat just as quickly as her tears.

He helped her sit on her own then reached for the first aid kit, applying enough pressure over
it to stop the bleeding.

Thankfully he made it quick.

She watched as he cleaned the surrounding skin then applied a bandage labeled "wound
closure" before finally covering it with gauze and tape, the sharp stinging pain the only thing
to remind her of what lie underneath.
He looked like he'd either done this before, or learned how to do it just for her.

She had a strong feeling it was the latter.

He silently passed her another box upon finishing and she stared at him in confusion.

"I'm a man of my word,” He gently taped the gauze to her arm without meeting her gaze.
“But you did earn it."

She didn't know what he meant until she realized it was a tupperware container, thoroughly
surprised to find a sandwich after opening it.

Oh. She had honestly prepared herself to not eat until her punishment for yesterday's refusal
to call herself his was over.

"Thank you." her own voice sounded a million miles away.

Despite the forced dependency, she still hoped that thanking him for food wasn't something
she'd have to get used to.

He didn't respond until he finished cleaning the blood that spilled onto her knee then stood up
to walk to the bathroom.

"Finish it so you can sleep."

He cleaned up the discarded blade and took the first aid box with him.

Her appetite was gone, but her last remaining remnants of rationality told her that she should
listen.

She did as she was told, finishing just as he returned from washing his hands.

He took the empty container from her and placed it back on the stand, reaching to open the
bottle of water.

"Here."

He passed it to her then grabbed a medicine bottle from the first aid kit, her hope falling flat
when she realized it wasn't her medication.

"What’s this?" she questioned the pill he placed in her hand.

"Melatonin."

She confirmed what he said by looking at the label, knowing she'd be lying to the both of
them if she said she didn't want it.

It felt good to swallow a pill with water and not the other thing she refused to let herself think
about, already too exhausted from today's events.

He reached for the handcuffs and she frowned.

 She almost considered asking him not to, but was too afraid of his ability to convince her to
do something she didn't want.

He cuffed the arm of her uninjured hand to the bed then sat back down in the chair.

She laid down and curled into a ball, questions beginning to swirl through her brain as she
stared at him.

"What's going to happen when I wake up?"

Her voice came out small and childish.

Maybe knowing what was going to happen next would be worse, but she doubted the ability
of her already weak mental state to handle another experience like todays.

He didn't respond for a moment.

As odd as it was, she was thankful that he was still there.

Regardless of what he represented to her, he was still another person—a presence that served
as a reminder that she too was still human, and not as lost to insanity as she believed.

"Get some sleep sweet girl."

Chapter End Notes

this entire day is mostly from his pov, but i felt it was too long for one chapter so i spilt
it into two. the next one will be up in a few days (and maybe eventually combined with
this one)

please share your questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 10: Day 3: Part II
Chapter Summary

WARNING //

this is a continuation of the previous chapter, and a lot of harmful things are said …
again.

please be mindful of the tags and put your own mental health first!!

Chapter Notes

i sincerely appreciate you if you’re still here and enjoying this fucked up ride of a story
as much as i enjoy writing it. every single comment/compliment means SO much to me
and makes me think more critically about how i structure/write everything.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

He didn’t leave until her breathing was steady and the rise and fall of her chest slowed.

Her hair was still slightly damp as it had since fallen from the elastic unceremoniously, barely
reaching the injured forearm that rested slightly away from her.

There weren’t really words to describe how he was feeling now. The only downfall he could
pinpoint was a hint of his own tiredness, but his satisfaction eclipsed it.

It was one thing to have imagined her self-harming as a result of his manipulation, and
another entirely to witness it occurring right in front of him.

He refused to examine his own emotions and leaned forward to brush a lock of hair from her
face.

For the first time since she woke up, she looked almost peaceful.

It mirrored the moments before she’d woken up on the first day, only this time he’d already
come far with her.

Very far.

He could see the walls she built around her mind slowly dissolving day by day, each small
crack in her psyche the result of his own sordid desires coming to life.
It was all he ever wanted. She was all he ever wanted.

His hand came up to gently cup her cheek as he became captivated by her now serene state,
sound asleep and vulnerable to anything he desired.

It made him smile to himself with pride knowing that regardless of whether or not she was
sleeping, he could still make her do whatever he wanted.

He gently rubbed his thumb back and forth over her skin, careful not to wake her.

Beautiful. There wasn’t a single moment he didn’t think so.

His attention shifted from the dry stream of tears on her cheeks to the bandage firmly
wrapped on her forearm.

At face value, he knew that what he did was an undeniably cruel thing to do.

She clearly had already struggled with some level of intense and deep-rooted emotions, and
he took advantage of them in one of the worst ways possible.

It was all so perfectly twisted, so demented— and surpassed all of his expectations for how
his fantasies would actually play out.

He couldn’t feel bad for his actions, especially not when she looked almost ethereal under his
touch.

She was far from the girl sobbing in equal parts shock and pain only several minutes ago.

He recalled her expression of disbelief as he told her what to do, relishing in the sweetest
tears forming in her eyes as she fervently shook her head.

And her whimpers… God her whimpers.

He found them to be perfect sounds in any context, even if they weren’t caused by him
directly.

He’d never seen anyone so scared, so visibly trapped in an altered mental status. It was one of
many memories that would replay in his mind, especially the moment the blade effortlessly
sliced through her skin.

It was nothing short of intoxicating.

His thumb grazed slightly over her skin, gaze lowering as he became aware of the tightness
in his jeans.

So that’s how he was feeling.

He breathed a soft huff of air through his nose, unsure of what to do about it.
Nothing was stopping him from climbing onto the bed and sliding in between her legs,
kissing up her exposed skin until she whimpered awake with confusion and weakly tried to
push him off.

The idea only made him grow harder, and visualizing how much it would cause her to cry did
nothing to help.

He closed his eyes and let out a silent sigh, not wanting to lose control of himself.

The reality was that she’d done more than enough to be physically depleted for one day. And
while he did want to break her mentally, he also knew that he was pushing her body to a
breaking point.

She was eating minimally, not sleeping nearly enough, or taking her medication.

He decided against fucking her awake because of that, promising himself he’d fuck her
senseless as often as his work would allow tomorrow.

Then again.. he could always take the day off.

But that didn’t leave him a solution for right now.

He moved his hand to the button on his jeans without a thorough plan in mind, slowly
dragging the zipper to free his now fully hard cock.

He didn’t realize how horny everything made him until he immediately began stroking
himself, head falling back as his mind swirled with nothing but her.

It was the norm for his mind to be so full of her at this point— she’d long since consumed
every part of his life.

He looked over at her and set a quicker pace, squeezing his hand around himself just as
tightly as her walls squeezed around his cock.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he watched her sleep, shamelessly getting off to the memory
of her cutting herself and all but collapsing in his arms moments after.

He considered himself to be fully aware of his actions at all times, and right now wasn’t an
exception.

This was arguably one of the most perverted things he’d ever done.

There was a chance she’d wake up since he hadn’t given her anything too strong, and while
he anticipated it would be a satisfying experience— he didn’t anticipate that the moment
replaying in his head would’ve made him already feel so close to the edge.

Particularly the moment that dark red blood welled up and spilled down the side of her arm,
the sweetest sobs of desperation and confusion filling the basement.
Perhaps he should’ve moved a bit faster to tend to her wound but he was distracted, high on
the almost godly feeling of making her think it was the right thing to do.

And of course— his decision to make her be the one to do it herself was deliberate.

He had no interest in doing it himself, instead wanting to encourage her false belief that she
was in control of her pain and suffering.

That was another one of the many things he loved about her. Even when she grew so restless
and angry that she cursed at him, she was still so sweet, so naive.

He stopped himself from groaning too loudly and stood up as her bound hand twitched
slightly, a tiny sound coming from her throat before she settled again.

His frame towered over her sleeping figure, unconcerned about the possibility of her waking
up.

Even if she did, he truly believed he was doing her a kindness by not doing it in the manner
he actually wanted to.

He moved his free hand to rest on the headboard, unsure of how long he gazed down at her
with equal parts lust and adoration.

Shit she was so pretty.

And he was already so so close.

It would’ve been a good idea to have some sort of plan on where to cum before he got to this
point, but he quickly came up with a solution.

His jaw clenched as he stifled a long groan, slightly shifting his position to cum right on top
of her newly applied bandage.

The visual itself only made his orgasm more intense, most of his cum landing
unceremoniously between the white gauze and the sheets on the bed.

He let out a sigh and languidly stroked himself after finishing, slightly smiling once he
realized some of it made its way into her hair.

For now, he was satisfied.

She didn’t stir when he tucked himself away, or when he walked to the bathroom to grab a
towel.

He gently wiped the surrounding skin near her wound upon his return, careful to make sure
none of it got under the bandage.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open at the same time he moved the towel to her hair, gently jolting
awake after registering how close he was to her.
“What happened?” she murmured and looked around sleepily.

“Nothing happened sweet girl.” He smiled at her ignorance.

“Go back to sleep.”

__

When she woke up again, he wasn’t there.

The realization that she wasn’t thankful for it made her frown, knowing full well that she
shouldn’t want him around.

She didn’t—but she also couldn’t deny the slight feeling of abandonment it gave her for him
to not be there after everything that happened.

Her unknown amount of sleep nearly convinced her none of it wasn’t real, that deliberately
hurting herself was something she made up.

But the bandage in her peripheral vision told a different story.

Tears slowly slipped down the side her face as she lay frozen still, staring at the result of what
she did.

She didn’t cry because she intentionally hurt the body that tirelessly worked to keep her alive
— she mourned the fact that he successfully convinced her to do it.

As horrible as she knew it was, something about it did feel good.

Maybe that’s part of what she was missing all along, to see or feel even an ounce of her inner
pain on the outside. An additional wave of darkness washed over her as she realized how
morbid her thoughts had grown since being there, and how they’d likely deteriorate to
something even worse.

To her best estimate it had been only three days since she’d woken up, and he already coaxed
her into doing something awful.

She felt desperately weak.

Her hand closed into a fist, the slight sharpness of her wound keeping her awake.

The last thing she wanted was to be a mindless pawn in his twisted desires. She didn’t want
to lose herself, even if she didn’t fully believe that she was anyone worth saving.

She took advantage of feeling sane again, promising herself that she wouldn’t let anything
like today happen ever again.
Normally she would’ve written a promise to herself in a journal or confided in her mother to
keep her accountable, but neither of those were an option.

She sniffled and blinked the tears from her eyes instead, moving to loop the pinky of her
bound hand into the one held in handcuffs.

A deep inhale filled her lungs before she let it go.

If she couldn’t make the promise to anyone else, she could make it to herself.

The basement door re-opened at the exact moment the sleeping pill attempted to lure her back
to sleep, the energy she normally had to sit up and back away from him long gone.

He barely tilted his head as he approached her, a look of intrigue crossing his face.

“You’re awake.” He observed.

She forced herself to keep her eyes open and looked over to him, the partially consumed
bottle of beer in his hand catching her attention.

Normally the terror she felt in his presence was all consuming, making every muscle in her
body tense and her hair stand on edge.

But her head was so groggy now that none of it registered.

She didn’t want that feeling to end.

“I’m thirsty.” she muttered softly.

He followed her gaze and tapped his middle finger on the glass, his easy smile turning into
something wicked.

The brief time he spent away from her was spent in his office, trying his best to focus on his
work. To his surprise he was able to get a decent amount of it done, even with his mind
defaulting back to her.

He decided that he accomplished more than enough for the day, opting instead to have a drink
and wait for her to wake up.

The melatonin he gave her was a bit of a higher dosage than what he took himself (and was
usually more than enough to keep him asleep), so being greeted by her tired eyes wasn’t
something he expected.

Having her all but ask him for alcohol was the last thing he expected.
He knew that he should encourage her to go back to sleep since she had only been asleep two
hours, but he’d never pass on an opportunity to be around her.

Especially a potentially inebriated version of her.

But a sleep aid still flooded her veins, and he wasn’t completely sure on his own whether or
not it was safe.

He set his own beer down on the kitchen counter as he opened the refrigerator, quickly
pulling out his phone to dial the person he knew would have all the answers he needed.

The familiar sound of his friends voice greeted him after a few rings, making him endlessly
thankful that he befriended a doctor all those years ago.

“Quick question for you.” He began just as smoothly as he always sounded.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Do you happen to know of any interactions between melatonin and alcohol? I tried to get
some sleep for a bit earlier and ended up staying awake. Completely forgot about it and had a
drink.”

“Well firstly—“ His friend started, “Must be a cold day in hell.”

He smiled at his response, both because it was so easy for him to be believed after he lied
with such ease, and because he knew a joke was sure to follow.

“And how’s that?” He replied.

“You getting some sleep in the middle of the day instead of working? Cold day for sure.”

“You’re partially correct—” He reached for a glass and put it back down. “I actually finished
early. Thought I’d take a break.”

“Well I would tell you to not mix them, but sounds like you already did. What’d you drink?”

“Just a couple beers.” He held up a bottle and studied the ABV on the label.

“How many milligrams was the melatonin?”

“Nothing too high. Five milligrams.”

“Well…” His friend reasoned. “You should be fine. I would say don’t drink anymore— and
don’t plan on driving anytime soon.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

“And drink some water. You should try sleeping again soon if you don’t feel like dealing with
the side affects.”

That’s the real reason he was calling. “Anything in particular I should look out for?”
“Not anything glaring. Dizziness or fatigue, maybe some trouble thinking straight.”

It sounded perfect— nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Total oversight on my part.” He sounded sincere. “Thanks for the help, I’ll try to get some
sleep.”

“No big deal.” His friend dismissed. “Not anything to send you to the hospital over. Just
make sure you monitor your symptoms.”

And just like that he had an answer to his question, the man on the other end completely
oblivious as to why he was actually asking.

He listened as his friend began telling him a story he wasn’t paying attention to, his attention
once again shifting back to her.

His ears tuned in again when he heard him say something along the lines of hanging up to let
him get some rest, which he readily agreed to.

“—And that’s only the half of it, but I’ll tell you the rest this weekend.”

He distantly remembered their plans and agreed, his mind all too consumed with thoughts of
retuning to the basement.

She drifted in the space between sleep and consciousness until he appeared again, not fully
registering his presence until his outstretched hand was in her field of vision.

Her eyes lifted up to his and she considered taking it, bits and pieces of lingering rationality
telling her it was a better idea not to.

But the moment she began to ponder the reasons behind it, the voice of reason faded.

She reached for his hand anyway.

He gently helped her into a sitting position, appearing to be considerate of her arm by
avoiding any contact with it.

“You should be asleep.” He stated matter of factly.

She lowered her eyes to the ground with a vacant expression, uncertain about why she was
even awake—there were countless possibilities.

The sudden drop in heightened emotions, the effects of not taking her medication, or the all
consuming, ever looming apprehension of being held against her will.
“How are you feeling?”

That question seemed to haunt her, and she never knew what answer he was expecting.

“I don’t know.” she frowned.

She recognized her base feelings; a strong hatred for him and an equally as strong desire to
leave. Anything beyond that felt like too much to put into words.

He smiled at her expense and reached for the beer he placed on the stand next to the bed.

“You know sweet girl—you don’t always have to think so hard.” He turned to pass her a
bottle of her own.

“Or at all.”

Two days ago she was apprehensive to consume anything provided by him, and maybe she
should’ve still felt that way.

She vaguely recalled him telling her that he had no reason to drug her, and how trapped it
made her feel.

But she was desperately tired of feeling.

The coldness of the glass briefly surprised her as her fingers wrapped around it, hardly giving
it a second thought before taking a large sip.

It immediately reminded her of why she didn’t like drinking alcohol, the feel of the dark and
bitter liquid settling in her stomach making her visibly wince.

She quickly finished the entire bottle anyway, barely taking a pause in between.

“All done?”

Her only free hand came up to swipe her lips, giving him a barely visible nod as he took the
bottle from her grasp.

“Do you like this one? I quite enjoy it. Think it might be one of my favorites.”

The way he spoke so casually never failed to make her feel like she was going insane.

She didn’t respond and turned her gaze back to the floor.

“Let me see your arm.”

He didn’t give her the option of saying yes or no and reached for it anyway, carefully turning
it over in his grasp.

His touch immediately awakened her innate fear of him, forcing her to silently repeat to
herself that he wasn’t going to hurt her.
He carefully studied his application of the bandages to make sure they were secure.

“Good.” He observed. “You’re not bleeding anymore.”

Anymore .

She hated that she did at all, and hated even more that she inflicted it on herself.

An overwhelming sense of clarity pierced through her slowly growing haze, making her go
rigid as she looked down at his focused expression.

He kidnapped her.

She was being held captive in his basement as if she were some sort of inanimate and long
forgotten object, in an unknown home that for all she knew was in the middle of nowhere.

He raped her constantly and was slowly, increasingly doing the same twisted equivalent to
her mind.

The alcohol wasn’t metabolizing fast enough.

“Can I have yours?” she muttered softly without thinking.

His eyes flicked up to hers, arm still in his grasp as he followed her gaze to his beer.

He smiled at a joke that only he knew, gently releasing his grip on her arm before turning to
pass her the bottle.

She finished it faster than the first, not caring that it was almost twice the alcohol content
she’d ever consumed.

“You should go back to sleep.” He said with fake consideration as he set the glass back down.
“You’ve already had a very long day.”

She squeezed her only free hand on the edge of the bed where she sat, refusing to make eye
contact with him.

“I can’t sleep.”

She knew he could clearly see that, but didn’t catch how subtly he was planting the idea that
by staying awake, being in his presence was now her idea.

“Something on your mind?” He inquired.

She shook her head and blinked hard as if it could make the slight dizziness go away.

“I have to use the bathroom.”

He stared at her for a moment longer before pulling the key from his pocket, easily unlocking
the handcuffs and setting them to the side.
She squeezed her hand around her wrist once it was freed, grimacing out of his sight as he
followed her.

It would be impossible for her to do any damage to either of them in her current state—let
alone successfully escaping.

But just like everything else that happened in the past three days, there was nothing she could
do about it.

She made quick work of using the bathroom and ignored his presence, staring at the swirl of
the water as she washed her hands.

Funny enough, that’s how she felt.

Her brain was in a swirl.

She silently hoped he wouldn’t notice how off kilter she was and reached for a towel,
considering him the last person on earth she could trust to be around her while inebriated.

To her dismay the concoction hit her like a truck as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom,
her walk growing visibly uneven with every step.

She tried to focus on regaining her footing by staring down at her feet but her vision blurred
over, muscle memory taking over instead.

The next thing she knew she had stumbled into his chest, his arm coming up to firmly wrap
around her side.

She could distantly hear him asking if she was okay, his voice laced with a tone that she
wouldn’t be able to decipher even if she tried.

“I was trying to watch my steps and I just…” she trailed off, completely losing her train of
thought.

She looked up at the color of his eyes as he held her, wondering if they’d always been that
way. They always seemed so dark every time he hurt her.

Somehow, it was funny. The entire world was suddenly so funny.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, she started laughing.

“You’re really funny, you know that?” she giggled in between laughs. “You hurt me so much
— and you still ask me if I’m okay!”

Any rationality or semblance of how she truly felt was now locked away, her nervous system
flooded with an unbalanced medley of substances.

The fact that she’d forgotten what her own laugh sounded like made her laugh harder.
He said something about getting her to lay back down but she wasn’t paying attention, so
wrapped up in her dizziness that she didn’t register the hand sliding around her waist.

She plopped down onto the bed like a child, tears of false joy slipping down her cheeks as
she finally had the courage to look at him for longer than a few moments.

He continued to aid her movement while she giggled to herself, gently guiding her head back
to the pillow.

“I’m not tired” she objected with a whine, moving to sit up again.

He carefully pushed her back down anyways, needing only the slightest bit of strength to
overpower her in her current state.

She gave up and swiped her hands over the tears on her face, smile subsiding as he sat in the
chair next to the bed.

The bandage on her arm caught her eye and she studied it, nearly forgetting what was
underneath.

Her brow furrowed as she recalled the memory.

“How did you know?” she asked softly without taking her eyes off of it.

“Know what sweet girl?”

A heavy haze had taken over her completely, leaving her contemplative enough to openly
express her thoughts.

“When I first got here, you told me I seemed sad….how did you know?”

She returned her hands to her sides and stared at him, thankful that her daze must’ve been
strong enough for him not to cuff her back to the headboard.

He slightly paused in consideration. “It was obvious.”

She turned her gaze to the ceiling and mulled over his words silently.

Maybe it really was obvious. Masking how she felt everyday had become a chore.

But there were undoubtedly others out there that were just like her, and she couldn’t figure
out how she was the one unlucky enough to experience such a living hell.

Why her?

The words escaped before she could ponder them.

”Why me?” she turned her head towards him.

It was a question she wanted the answer to the most, and she knew this was the only time
she’d be courageous enough to ask for it.
He leaned back in the chair and stared at her with curiosity.

“How about this.” He started.

“We’ll play a game. You can ask me anything—and I’ll be honest with you if you’re honest
with me.”

She contemplated it to the best that her inebriation would allow, not sure what questions he’d
want to ask or why.

“Okay.” she muttered finally.

The way he smiled would’ve been extremely alarming to her if she was completely sober, but
her guard was down and completely gone.

“How long have you been taking medication?” He questioned without skipping a beat.

It seemed simple enough to answer, and she considered the questions she had for him to be
more probing.

“Almost a year.” she muttered truthfully.

He considered her question in return.

“Why you…” He repeated, appearing thoughtful before responding.

“I’ve asked myself that question plenty of times, and there’s no real answer. I’m sure you
think I could’ve chosen anyone else and…sure. I suppose I could have. But I didn’t want
anyone else sweet girl, I wanted you. It’s you, just because it’s you.”

Her thoughts struggled to piece themselves together on their own, but she still knew his
response was contradictory.

“I don’t get it.” she frowned. “If I’m so special, why do you hurt me?”

He smiled at her like it was obvious, easily deflecting her question.

“I’ve done more than just hurt you. I’ve also made you feel good. But it’s not your turn right
now, is it?”

She stayed silent, and he didn’t hesitate to ask his next question.

“Speaking of… did you like it when I made you cum in my mouth?”

The vulgarity of the question made her hesitate, but she couldn’t deny how visibly her body
had reacted that night.

“I guess I… liked it better than when you hurt me.“ she mumbled. “No one ever made me
orgasm before.”
She knew that the moment she slept off her intoxication she was going to hate herself—far
too gone to think about her words and giving him yet another thing to hold over her head.

Just as predicted, a smug smile crossed his face. “Is that so?”

A heavy pang of regret hit her chest at disclosing a fact she never intended to, but the haze
made it dissipate just as soon as it started.

“And how does it feel when I hurt you?” He questioned.

The logical part of her began banging on the door it was securely locked behind in her mind,
desperately trying to tell her this wasn't a question she should answer.

For a moment she considered telling him that she was tired, part of her wanting to curl into a
ball and silently hope that he would leave.

But she was stuck in a mental limbo, and the guidelines of what she normally would’ve
deemed as the right or wrong things to say to him had nearly faded to nothing.

“It feels…I feel it in my lower body—in my stomach. Everywhere. Like there’s a wall that
you hit…but you don’t stop. I feel like I can pass out from how deep and sharp it feels but…”
she turned her head towards him and frowned, her voice lowering.

“But I guess I’m wrong. I never have.”

He visibly savored her words and stored it away for later use.

“You never cease to remind me of why I chose you.” He smiled honestly. “It’s your turn.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question, but she pushed through
her apprehension anyways.

“Do you really believe everything you tell me?” she blinked innocently.

“Such as?”

She hesitated for a moment, the harshness of his words still prominent.

“That I’m a burden to everyone, and they’re better off without me.”

She couldn’t tell if he was trying to figure out how to respond, or if he was slightly surprised
that she was technically confronting him.

“I’ll put it like this—“ He started confidently. “You loved your parents, didn’t you?”

It was only obvious she still did, not bothering to correct him for fear of his anger at bringing
up anything that happened before him.

She nodded slowly.

“Did you ever find yourself carrying their problems on your own shoulders, no matter how
minimal they were?”

“I guess I…did.”

“That’s what makes you a burden.”

“If they loved you the way you think they did, any struggle you faced was now theirs. And
that’s quite a heavy thing to carry, don’t you think? Knowing their only daughter was so
dissatisfied with her life that she visibly, barely even wanted it. So yes, I do believe it. You
are inherently a burden.”

If it wasn’t for her drunken state, she was sure his words would’ve made her cry.

“What about all the other things you tell me?” she deliberately left out any examples.

“It’s not your turn sweetheart.” He said gently. “Why do you take medication?”

“Because I—” she began softly, filing through her memories of her life before him.

“I got diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Sometimes I didn’t want… to be alive
anymore.”

He leaned forward to rest his hand on the side of her face, gently rubbing his thumb back and
forth over her cheek.

“And why is that?”

She didn’t want to tell him that. The only one she had ever fully confided in about her true
reasons was herself.

Her heart clanged in her ribcage, the sudden increase in anxiety making her breaths shaky
and shallow.

“I don’t want to play anymore.” she shook her head with a whine.

Her tone was desperately vulnerable and pleading, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Don’t be a poor sport sweet girl. I’ve answered you honestly when I don’t have to tell you a
single thing. Answer the question.”

The final sentence came out firmly, the playful banter in his voice fading away and reminding
her of who he really was.

She breathed in a shaky breath and let it go.

“I started detaching from everything I loved and I… didn’t know the point anymore. I don’t
understand why the world continues, why any of this matters if we’re all going to die in the
end. Really bad things happen to everyone all the time and I just didn’t understand—“ she
stopped to take a breath, her eyes finally meeting his.
“….why I have to be alive.”

She always assumed that if she shared that with anyone, they’d vehemently disagree and tell
her that she was wrong. Deep down she yearned to hear that her life did have plenty of
meaning, even if she couldn’t directly define it.

Her hopes fell as he said nothing, the most pensive look she’d ever seen him have crossing
his face.

It faded after a moment, leaving her alone in her confession with no comfort.

“It’s your turn.” He returned to the same demeanor he had before pressuring her into
confessing.

She felt dumbstruck and thought of another question, exhaustion from the events that took
place in the last 24 hours finally hitting her.

“Do you think my parents stopped looking for me?”

He faintly tilted his head as if it were a childish question.

“I can’t answer a question I don’t know the answer to sweet girl.”

She knew he was right, but the way she missed them was overwhelming.

“I know… I can’t stop thinking about them.” she said honestly. “They’re probably so scared
and—“

She paused her words, finding them too close to the criteria of what he threatened to do if she
asked him to leave again.

“It’s like you said,” He used her own words against her.

“Bad things happen to everyone all the time.”

She didn’t understand how he could be so careless about it, wondering what his relationship
was with his own parents.

“What about your parents?” she questioned.

He visibly pulled away from her abruptly and sat up in his chair.

“What about them?”

She stared at him quizzically, never seeing anything even slightly bother him before.

“Well… are they still alive? Do you talk to them?”

His guard began to fade just as soon as it came up, and he slightly clicked his tongue at her
question.
“I think that asking double questions is cheating, don’t you think sweet girl?”

But you said I could ask you any —“ she began to challenge his diversion.

“I did.” He agreed with a nod. “And now I’m telling you to ask something else.”

She didn’t know how that was even remotely fair given the nature of the things she told him,
but she wasn’t too keen to argue after he said no.

“What will happen when you’re tired of me?” she asked blankly.

He huffed a small laugh and shook his head.

“If it hasn’t been abundantly clear to you by now—that’s never going to happen. Taking and
keeping you is the biggest commitment I’ve ever made. One slip up and the life I’ve built —
and thoroughly enjoy— could’ve been gone in an instant.”

“So, no.” He shook his head, appearing the most truthful she’d ever seen him.

“I won’t wake up one day and decide to kill you if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re
far too invaluable to me sweet girl.”

Perhaps that should’ve brought her some comfort, but the thought of being there for an
indefinite amount of time also made her feel sick.

He barely gave her a chance to process his answer before asking another question.

“What did you enjoy doing before?”

She reflected again on her life before his basement, eyelids falling heavy as she thought of
everything she did to make herself feel sane.

“Reading.” she answered truthfully. “Or puzzles. The ones with a thousand pieces where you
can turn your brain off and successfully fix something for once.”

It was odd sharing her previous passions with him, but she supposed they didn’t matter
anymore.

“I never finished one but—” she shrugged with obvious self deprecation. “I guess that seems
fitting for me.”

She turned her gaze from the ceiling as her eyes threatened to close.

“I’m sleepy.” she mumbled softly.

He sighed with satisfaction and reached for the handcuffs, signaling the end of his exhausting
game.

“Be careful with your other arm.” He instructed before cuffing the hand of her uninjured one.
She stared up at him as he clicked the metal around her wrist, momentarily freezing when he
looked down at her.

His demeanor switched to something gentle as he leaned down to kiss her, making her go
rigid.

She couldn’t be completely sure what made her do it—maybe she was still dreaming as her
lips began to move against his, easily matching his soft pace.

He moved his hand to her jaw as she did, his tongue slowly grazing her mouth and nearly
making her whine.

It lasted longer than it should’ve, and before she could become conscious that she was
sharing the most intimate kiss of her life with the man who tormented her, he pulled away.

“I remember you.” she blurted without thinking.

“Do you now?” He grinned.

She wasn’t sure why she said it. At this point, there were no longer any secrets left to keep
from him.

“Yes.” she nodded gently. “You asked me for a connector screw. And I thought you were
nice.”

“Well.” He started softly. “I suppose now you’ve learned not to judge every book by its
cover.”

He was right, and there wasn’t a moment she didn’t wish she couldn’t go back in time and
somehow change the current outcome.

“Get some rest sweet girl.” He interrupted her thoughts.

“You’re gonna need it for tomorrow.”

The alcohol stopped her from catching how harrowing his voice turned, eyes fluttering closed
as the door to the basement shut yet again.

She thought about the sober version of herself as she drifted off to sleep, the one that
consistently faced a cruel, unrelenting reality.

Maybe that version would empathize and understand everything that she experienced today.

She feared the worst for herself if she couldn’t, knowing her already disintegrating mental
health would take a turn for the worst.

Maybe for once, she would forgive herself for something.

She desperately hoped that she could.

Chapter End Notes

just for info, the next chapter won’t be nearly as sweet as this one. (….if you can even
call it that)

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 11: Day 4: Part I
Chapter Summary

brutal rape day from his pov (just in case you forgot he’s a rapist, but mostly because he
hasn’t fucked her in over 24 hours)

Chapter Notes

i swear i didn’t abandon this story (or die lol)

i appreciate you all so much for waiting & still being here, this chapter will be split into
two both for length and because i want you guys to have something (:

(this chapter may still be slightly edited, but is done)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

She felt terrible.

It was inevitable given the night she had before—she anticipated feeling awful in some way.

But the culmination of not eating, going cold turkey on her medication so abruptly, and the
events of the previous day had all blossomed to an all-consuming dread.

She forcefully blinked the bleariness out of her eyes as she pulled herself into a sitting
position, lifting her hands to run them over her face.

But of course she could only lift one, immediately making a heavy wave of helplessness
shoot through her body.

She tugged on them experimentally, panic rising in her chest at the feeling of being unable to
even just fully stand like a normal person.

Her eyes darted around the basement walls, the stairs, and the small singular window barely
clueing her into the time of day.

Based on her limited observations, it was her third or fourth day being there. Down in the
basement of the captor that she still desperately hated, and desperately wished any sort of
harm upon.

The sun looked like it was nearly at its brightest, maybe it was morni—the sun.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it. Or the last time she felt it.

Her mind was darting from topic to topic much faster than usual.

She wasn’t too far gone rom her mind to realize that she was fully and completely stir crazy.

This wasn’t an emotion she ever prepared herself to feel. It made her lightheaded with
anxiety, prompting her to stand up the best she could.

The headache that pulsed through the entirety of yer skull overpowered the pangs of hunger
in her stomach, but none of it was nearly as prominent as her newfound restlessness.

She moved to pull on the handcuffs a little harder with the strength she gained from one foot
touching the floor, desperate whines of anger escaping her lips when nothing worked.

The tightness of the handcuffs weren’t enough to cause pain, but were placed just enough for
her to not be able to move freely.

But the more she did move, that caused pain.

She yanked harder and ignored the redness it was already causing, not minding that the way
the metal dug into her skin with every twist was now starting to burn.

It didn’t matter.

Maybe the harder she pulled, it would eventually work.

Maybe the harder she pulled, the pain would become so much that it’d give her nothing else
to think about.

Both of the thoughts were irrational, driven by unrelenting fear and desperate anger.

The sound of the basement door reopening immediately paused the testing of her deranged
theories, body going rigid as she remembered his words from the night before.

“Get some rest sweet girl, you’re gonna need it for tomorrow.”

As far as she could tell now, it was tomorrow.

_____

The sleep he’d gotten the night before could’ve easily been considered the best sleep he ever
had. He woke up feeling rejuvenated and overzealous, ready for what was inevitably going to
be a long day.

It started relatively the same for him; a quick workout, shower, breakfast— all of which led
to where he was now.
Normally he was always punctual regarding his work, and expected anyone reporting to him
to do the same.

But he also hadn’t fucked the girl in his basement in over 24 hours, and that was steadily
driving him more insane than the potential for being late ever could.

He sat at his desk and quickly typed up an excuse to push his morning meeting back by 30
minutes, ticking an additional box to ensure it was sent out with urgency.

Perhaps it was a tad unprofessional on his end to alter the morning schedule of others solely
because he’d grown almost insatiably horny, but it was more than that.

What he wanted was far from sex.

What he really craved was rape.

A primal, traumatizing, almost brutal rape— one that wouldn’t easily be forgotten by either
of them.

He craved to possess and control her fully, and to see the marks littered over her skin for days
to come.

Every secret she indulged in the night before had inspired him for the worst.

Sure, he was still going to observe her actions and responses—always. But he now felt even
more confident in knowing what to say, what to do, exactly how much he could push her to
the edge before needing to bring her right back.

He walked to his kitchen after the email was sent out, still firm in his decision not to give her
any food or her medication.

He grabbed only a glass of water and made his way to the basement, not wanting to waste
another moment away from her.

__

His pace was intentionally slowed as he descended the stairs, knowing that her anxiety would
only rise in tandem with his steps.

She overall appeared to be the most rested he’d ever seen as he approached her, and his
approximations were correct. She looked terribly anxious, as if she’d just scrambled to the
corner of the bed upon hearing his return.

“Good morning sweet girl.”

She wrapped her free arm around herself and stayed silent, too afraid to take her eyes away
from his.
He appreciated that she’d grown familiar with him enough to know when there was nothing
even remotely good in store for her— and there wouldn’t be, definitely not today.

Unbeknownst to her, the way he wanted to use her was almost impossible to carry out
without inflicting some sort of serious injury.

He’d spent nearly half an hour thinking of how to respond to the inevitable instances that
she’d respond in a less than desirable way, and a safer way he could go about it handling it.

The sudden desire to strike her pretty face with all of his strength at least once overwhelmed
him— but he also knew that could result in her not waking up for some time. Or at all.

He shook himself of the idea and thought up an alternative.

She’d be regretting her decision not to be cooperative soon enough.

“Did you sleep well?” He pulled out the key and moved to unlock the handcuffs, passing her
the cup of water.

“I just—” she muttered with a shaky breath, “I just have to use the bathroom.”

He successfully freed her hand and tossed the handcuffs to the side, admiring her last ditch
effort.

“Sure you can.” He said easily. “After.”

He smiled once she went rigid at his words, folding in on herself further and visibly sensing
the worst.

“A—after what?” she stuttered in a near whisper.

She was visibly shaking now, making him appreciate that she was fearful enough that the
water sloshed inside the cup.

“Drink your water,” He deflected. “Then I’ll tell you.”

Her other hand rose to steady the cup, quickly finishing the water before watching him set the
empty remains down on the stand closest to the bed.

She wrapped her arms around herself and shook under his gaze, the sight making him crave
her even more.

He refused to waste anymore time, reaching to yank her legs flat before she could even
register his touch.

“I know you have no real sense of time—“ He stood between her legs and pulled her hips to
the edge of the bed.

“But I haven’t fucked you in over a day. Do you know what that means sweet girl?”
Frightened whimpers filled the space between them as she tried to back away, fists struggling
in his grasp after he pinned both of them down on either side of her head.

Her fear was every bit as intoxicating as it always had been— but he desperately craved more
of it.

He moved to grab a fistful of her hair and yanked her to her feet, forcefully pulling her into
him.

She froze as his lips roughly collided with hers, unable to move away from the hand firmly
pressing her body flush against his.

“What’s wrong sweet girl?” He teased patronizingly. “You were so eager to kiss me last
night.”

“I—“ she muttered, just as dumbstruck as a deer in headlights. “I was drunk.”

“Such a shame you’re lying to me.” He tsked.

He dragged the fist in her hair down so roughly that she had no option but to stumble her way
to the floor, barely having enough time to break the fall with her hands.

She cried out when he gave her a slight shove before letting go, positioning himself on top of
her while intentionally leaving her arms freed.

“And you still haven’t answered my question,” He continued as she attempted to move from
under his weight.

“What do you think it means for you now that I haven’t fucked you in over a day?”

She weakly lifted her hands for some sort of a barrier as he leaned forward, visibly still
groggy from the night before.

“Get off of me—” she struggled against him.

Her words lacked their usual tone of defiance or anger, now laced with obvious signs of
physical fatigue.

“Or what?” He baited her easily.

She paused for a moment upon realizing there wasn’t much she could do, visibly considering
that she still had one option left.

He knew she hadn’t truly thought it through before pushing him with the most strength she
had in her current condition, but it didn’t make hitting her back any less satisfying.

The punishment didn’t fit the crime, but the familiar whine of pain she gave went straight to
his cock.

A brief look of defeat crossed her face.

God he missed this.

“What it means,” He began as he admired the redness on her cheek, “Is that in the past 24
hours, everything you did made me want to fuck you senseless.”

He pinned her hands down and leaned in close to her ear, lowering his voice enough to make
a chill go through her body.

“When you came on my tongue…. told me all the reasons you didn’t want to be alive…
when you did this— ” He gestured to her bandaged arm before lowering to nip at the skin of
her neck.

“What it means sweet girl,” He lifted back up to stare into her eyes—“Is that I’m absolutely
going to ruin you.”

She couldn’t hide the audible whine of fear as her tears spilled.

“Please stop” she shook her head with a sob.

“Beg me.” He entertained her pointless desperation. “I might change my mind.”

That was easily the most blatant lie he’d ever told her, and she fell for it anyway.

She was either too naive or too trapped in paralyzing fear to notice that the erection pressed
between her legs hadn’t once subsided, but he didn’t mind having yet another thing to turn
him on.

He nearly groaned as a string of pleas fell from her lips, admiring the endless tears that he
missed being the cause of.

“How adorable.” He mocked honestly. “But I think you can beg me a little better than that,
don’t you think?”

He didn’t give her a chance to react before slipping his hand to his belt, savoring the terror
filled scream that echoed through the basement.

She struggled against him as he moved to finally free his cock, but it was all too easy for him
to overpower her.

He shifted most of his weight to the hand that now pinned both of her wrists above her head,
her chest heaving wildly up and down.

He was tired of toying with her, and extremely tired of being so gentle.

Two of his fingers forced their way to the back of her throat until she gagged, quickly
bringing the wetness to his cock while she struggled not to vomit at the intrusion.

“Look at me.” He instructed.

Her breath caught in her throat as she did, body going rigid underneath his weight.
“Please please don’t. I can’t —“ she sobbed to herself, unaware of how dangerously
entranced it made him.

He shushed her cries and hummed with pleasure as he harshly ran the tip of his cock over her
slit.

“Save some of this pleading for later.” He advised her truthfully. “You’re gonna need it.”

The agony of not being inside of her for so long finally faded as he forced his hips into hers.

He cursed under his breath as he did, pushing against every bit of resistance her body gave in
return.

“Aw don’t cry sweet girl,” He teased as he forced himself deeper with a sharper thrust.

He couldn’t help but groan as he stared down at her, moving to swipe one of her tears away
with his thumb. Another followed it immediately, making him crave more.

“All those times you’ve had my cock inside you—it shouldn’t hurt by now, does it?”

She sobbed underneath him and nodded, all of the muscles in her legs tensing around him as
he was nearly fully seated inside of her.

He smiled devilishly.

She was still oblivious enough to tell him the things that got him off the most, and it nearly
made him laugh.

“You really are fucking stupid sometimes sweetheart.”

He thrusted hard enough for a pained gasp to make her mouth part open, and he quickly took
the opportunity to spit in her mouth.

She jolted and nearly choked as it landed at the back of her throat, giving her no other choice
but to swallow it.

His hands moved away from hers as he fucked her roughly, fully aware that nothing was
really stopping her from hitting him in this position.

But he still really wanted her to try, ready to have yet another excuse to hit her again.

Her whimpers filled the space between them as her balled fists failed to push him off.

“Stop” she sobbed. “—please stop”

He ignored her, too lost in sensation to think of anything taunting to say in response.

Instead he balanced himself over her with either hand on the ground, burying his face into her
shoulder before biting, licking at sucking at any of her skin he could reach.
She yelped in discomfort at the additional affliction, legs failing to push him away as he
increased to a brutal pace.

He looked down at her as he did, her hands having nowhere to brace but on his shoulders.

Her eyes screwed shut in agony.

Normally, he would’ve scolded her. But the moans escaping his own lips made it hard to put
a sentence together.

She was so fucking perfect like this.

He needed this, exactly this for so long.

The thought of her being so tight and wet around him as some sort of defense mechanism
goaded him on.

His thrusts briefly paused to lift her leg until it bent over his outstretched arm, and then—
after a pathetic attempt at a struggle from her—the other.

He made sure to fuck into her harder as penance, the newfound position bringing contrasting
sounds out of both of them for different reasons.

“Look at me.” He demanded breathlessly between groans.

Her eyes had opened and stayed trained on the staircase across the room as if it were some
sort of escape, making him slap her before she could see it coming.

She clenched around him in surprise, pushing him closer to the edge.

God she drove him insane. He could already feel himself wanting to cum, as if he was his
desperately horny teenaged self all over again.

“Mm don’t pass out on me just yet sweet girl.”

She whimpered and sobbed harder at his words, realizing he was using her own from the
night before against her.

Her hands pinned awkwardly between their chests as he bent down, pressing kisses up her
jaw until he reached her ear.

“I want you to feel it in your lower body…your stomach… everywhere”

She began to panic as he recited her own testament of pain, but he didn’t care.

He was sure that he’d already fucked her through multiple panic or anxiety attacks before—
whatever the fuck the actual difference was— and he’d gladly do it again now.

Her breath hitched in equal parts pain and distress, the tiny whimpers escaping her lips now
right up against his ear.
Shit he was gonna cum.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this.” He whispered deep into her ear
“You’re mine.”

He gave a few more groans and kissed up her face, knowing exactly how cruel it was to add
such insults to injury.

“This is the only cock you’re gonna take for the rest of your worthless little fucking life.”

He was fucking the words out of her, knowing she couldn’t possibly respond even if she
wanted to.

Her choked hyperventilation nearly pushed him over the edge, but he knew he still had time
until his rescheduled morning meeting—he didn’t want to cum just yet.

He pulled out with a regretful sigh and sat up on his knees, flipping her over and pulling her
hips up until she was bent over in front of him.

She whimpered a soft plea and tried to crawl away, making him swat a hand over her ass.

“Don’t fucking move.”

He was really close to finishing, and really couldn’t see himself being able to withhold from
his desire of hitting her with all of his strength if she ruined his orgasm.

She whined and tried to get away from him again, making him reach for a fistful of her hair.

He yanked her head directly back until the top of it rested against his chest, his other hand
coming to wrap around her neck.

“What did I just say?”

He knew this was an extremely uncomfortable stance for her to be in, but he wasn’t going to
let up until she answered.

“I—“ she struggled, visibly tense in the position he held her in.

He stared down at the terribly desperate and reddened eyes looking up at him, making his
cock twitch against her back.

”Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

“i’m sor—“ she offered pathetically.

He interrupted by forcing her face to the floor, wasting no more time lining his cock back
inside of her.

She desperately looked for something to hold onto, but there was nothing around them.

A loud groan filled the basement as he started his pace again.

Shit.

He really, really needed to fuck her like this more often.

It felt deeper this way, his cock hit her cervix more easily in this position than any other. That
was intensely delightful, because he knew how much it hurt her.

He couldn’t recall if he had ever fucked her so consistently rough, making a quick mental
note to ensure that he hadn’t somehow caused her to bleed from it later.

But he was sure she’d be fine—she’d already inflicted much worse on herself.

He moved his hand to the side of her face as he recalled her description of pain from the night
before, his primal growl overpowering her sobs. The pleasure threatened to push him over the
edge as he fucked into her relentlessly.

He wanted to cum buried inside of her, and he suddenly couldn’t remember the last time he
did.

But he had a slightly better idea, one that would leave her feeling just as worthless as he
wanted her to feel.

Somehow he got enough strength to pull out just before he could finish, forcing his hand
back over her face as he moved to jerk off on his knees in front of her.

“Stay.” He firmly discouraged her movement.

She obeyed and appeared relieved that it was over, right until he leaned to spit on his cock.

His cock was what he attempted to aim for, but majority of it landed on her face.

Oh well.

Her immediate look of dejection pushed him over the edge, every single rope of his cum
landing right on top of her soft skin and partly over her eyelashes.

Somehow ‘Good’ and even ‘Blissful’ felt like vast understatements every time she made him
cum.

He tilted his head back and let the pleasure consume him, tapping the tip of his cock over the
few clean spaces on her face once the high faded.

She sobbed and stayed still even after he pulled his hand away, quickly standing to get
redressed for his meeting.

“Up sweet girl.” He insisted calmly. “I have work.”

She looked just as dazed as she was the night before, pushing herself up to her feet in spite of
how unevenly she stood on them.
He reared back his hand to slap her again once she did, the force of it strong enough to send
her right back to the floor.

She didn’t do anything to warrant it, he just couldn’t resist. The look of her on her knees in
front of him was addicting.

He fixed the collar of his shirt, glad he didn’t get any of his own spend on his hands.

“Up.” He repeated.

She looked too afraid to do so, down at his feet like a kicked animal.

He didn’t strike her down again once she was standing.

In another scenario he would’ve enjoyed it, but he really did have work to get back to. It was
out of character for him to reschedule in the first place, but he’d long since established that as
one of the many affects she had on him.

He reached for her wrist and began to walk her back over to the bed, deciding to clean her up
sometime after his return.

The degradation would do her some good, and was more than likely to leave her crying until
he was finished.

He barely had a chance to ponder another depraved reason before he felt her try to yank her
hand out of his grasp, her entire demeanor escalating.

“No no no no—“she rambled quickly, “Please don’t—“

He really didn’t have time for whatever this was.

She began screaming at the top of her lungs and forcefully yanking herself away from him
with a sudden burst of energy, nearly successful in freeing herself from his grasp.

For a moment he felt like a parent, visibly puzzled as to why his child randomly decided to
have an outburst—especially since he’d given her plenty reason to have one several moments
before.

He pulled her closer to him the best he could, switching his grasp to firmly hold both of her
forearms in between the two of them.

“Stop—STOP it.” He shook her once, her whimpers finally quieting down.

“please.” she pleaded sincerely, the bodily fluids painting her face now mixed with her own
tears.

“Please don’t handcuff me.”

“Sit down.” He said evenly, not giving her a chance and all but dragging her to the bed.
She whimpered as he pushed her down on the mattress, hands returning to her sides as she
pleaded with him again.

He lifted up a hand and signaled for her to stop talking, reaching for her wrist that was
usually kept cuffed to the bed.

She pursed her lips shut as he held her wrist out in front of him, slightly inflamed and now
showing signs of bruising.

“When did this happen?” He lifted her wrist up in front of her.

She was frightened of his tone, so much so that she’d forgotten what was on her face,
reaching to swipe the side of her hand over her cheek.

“Earlier—“ she cried softly, blinking tears from her eyes. “I—I was just trying to—“

“Trying to what?” He demanded. “Hurt yourself?”

He’d already accessed such vulnerable and deep parts of her mind, she didn’t think she could
lie to him believably even if she tried.

He watched as she gave a barely there nod, quickly averting her eyes to the floor.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes lifted up to his own, exhausted from tears and pleading.

“Do not try to hurt yourself.”

She jumped slightly as he emphasized his words, visibly confused considering what she had
done the night before.

“But I—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupted. “That’s something that you earn, and do in my presence.
Understand?”

She bit back more tears as she stared at him, but he had her right where he wanted her.

If she said no, she was inevitably signing herself up for some sort of punishment from him—
and he’d be happy to oblige.

If she said yes, she not only inherently admitted to him that harming herself did feel good,
but that it was something “good” to be earned.

He smiled as she nodded, dropping her wrist and reaching for her other arm with the bandage
wrapped around it.

“You’re tired of the basement, aren’t you?

 She nodded as he moved to cuff her other wrist to the bed, still in mental limbo over the way
he abruptly fucked her and what she just agreed to.

“I’ll make you a deal— promise not to try to yank your arm out, and I promise to take you
out of the basement when I’m done with my meeting.”

She murmured in agreement and swiped another tear from her cheek, cum spit and all.

“I love you.” she wrapped her arm around her knees and stared down at the sheets of the bed.

He reached for the cup on the stand beside the bed, viewing her words as spoken out of
obligation, and an attempt at keeping him satisfied so he would fulfill his part of the
agreement.

“I’ll be back when I’m done sweet girl.”

He had no issue with keeping his side of the deal— in fact he had every intention to.

It likely wasn’t going to be what she anticipated, but he was fine with her assumptions if it
meant they’d keep her calm enough for him to work.

For now, he was satisfied.

Chapter End Notes

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 12: Day 4: Part II
Chapter Summary

brutal rape day pt. 2 from her pov (see trigger warnings !!)

Chapter Notes

hello and thank you if you’re still here— i appreciate you !

this chapter is long enough to be split into two. but it’s been a month (exactly) since i’ve
posted an update, and i didn’t feel comfortable pausing directly after the heavier themes
in this chapter.

this was heavy to write, so i imagine for some it could be heavy to read. please please
look out for yourself, know your limits, and take a break if you need to.

it’s been a bit of a journey writing this story, and i completely respect anyone who feels
they need to step away from it completely. please remember this is fictional, and YOU
come first.

enjoy (:

TW//suicidal thoughts/ideations/plans, graphic descriptions of depression & anxiety

See the end of the chapter for more notes

She didn’t want to fully acknowledge it.

It was too terrifying to confront, somehow even more terrifying than everything she’d been
through.

But the truth lingered just beneath the surface of her deepest thoughts, each act of cruelty
slowly unveiling what she knew would eventually come to light.

Her resolve was nearly depleted.

In her life before him, feeling “out of body” was only a lingering sense of distance. But now
she knew what it really meant—being a shell.

A shell of her life, interests, hopes, dreams, and fears. He’d taken all of them away from her,
then left her to helplessly watch as her humanity circled the drain.
She no longer had interests. The only hope she had left was the obviously delusional one of
some sort of escape. And she couldn’t dream, not like she used to.

In the few instances that she did they always depicted brief glimpses of freedom—but reality
easily pierced through and made her shoot awake in a panic.

He had become her only fear.

Every day he preyed on and took whatever she had left. Who she was, who she wanted to—
or had the potential to be, then replaced it with himself.

In some ways, she was thankful for disassociation. It made it easier to disengage from
moments like these, where the pain struck her so deeply and profound that it spread to her
upper body.

There weren’t any real thoughts in her head because of it, and it quickly became her only real
escape—nothingness.

She sat with her knees pulled to her chest and stared at the sheets of the bed, the nagging
feeling of needing to use the bathroom slowly pulling her back into her body.

Everything that took place began to sink in, along with the bits and pieces of their
conversations she could recall from the night before. Tears quickly slipped down her cheeks,
making her realize that she didn’t cry loudly or outwardly anymore— not in the way she used
to. Her tears had now become more resigned, more accepting of the inevitable.

She wished she hadn’t drunkenly told him a single thing. He used all of it against her in the
worst possible ways, diving deeper into her mind while revealing nothing of himself, not
truly.

The only sort of “revealing” information she had was seeing the brief look of unease cross his
face when she mentioned his parents. But that could have meant anything, and she still
wasn’t completely sure whether or not she imagined it. Even if she did know the why of how
he was the way he was, how could it matter?

Who he was now was cunning, charismatic and evasive, a man who possessed a way of
making her question her entire existence. If there were circumstances that led him to being
the way he was, it wouldn’t have changed a single thing. It couldn’t have.

He seemed to be used to getting whatever he wanted, and for reasons she would likely never
understand— she was what he wanted.

The memory of mindlessly blurting out all of her reasons for not wanting to be alive came
flooding back, making her ponder why it meant so much to him.

Between the unrelenting degradation and withholding her medication alone, it was only
obvious he wanted her mental will to deteriorate. But why?

She couldn’t do anything harmful to herself that would be lasting, and he made it clear that
he didn’t want her trying it— not even superficially. It was an odd demand given the way he
watched her self harm not even a full day ago.

Whatever game he was playing she wasn’t clued in, and she hadn’t earned a single point.

He had the upper hand on her; body, mind, and spirit, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.
She had almost completely slipped away from everything she knew to be true.

Her bandaged arm was now the one in cuffs, breath hitching in her throat as she looked
down.

She did that. Because of him.

It was her fault for being so weak, and now she’d have it as a reminder forever.

Her head felt like it was going to implode, overwhelmed by a torrent of questions and
observations that seemed to run endlessly.

Whether it was from her thoughts or being struck hard enough to hit the ground for no real
reason, she couldn’t be exactly sure.

That scared her, terribly.

He obviously leaned towards cruelty more often than not, but today had felt distinctly
different. She told herself one more lie to protect herself, knowing it was far from the actual
truth.

He was struggling to control himself, and there was no telling what that meant for her.

His morning meetings were usually short— but somehow this one was fucking dragging.

He couldn’t tell if his strong desire to get back to what— who — he actually felt like doing
was the reason he felt so annoyed, or if the people taking part in the virtual meeting were
solely to blame.

Maybe both.

He kept his attention on scrawling notes in his notepad, reminding himself to slow down in
order for them to be legible enough to work with later.

He listened on as the marketing manager lamented over the customer email system being
down, the implementation of a new (and improved) survey for fiscal reports, and the
development team went over countless retention initiatives.
Earlier in the morning he considered himself satisfied, but now his mind easily diverted back
to the same topic. He briefly replayed parts of their morning in his head, hiding a smile as he
remembered her adorable expression upon seeing him.

Timid, apprehensive, terrified of the unknown and— damn it.

He stared at the clock in his office, realizing he’d gotten so wrapped in desire that he’d
forgotten to let her use the bathroom.

He really, really needed to get control of himself.

It would be undesirable for the both of them if he made it into a habit, especially since he
didn’t directly intend to do so.

The realization made him wish this meeting was over entirely, pen tapping incessantly on the
notepad in front of him.

He was thankful when they finally went around and asked everyone if they had anything final
to add, to which he quickly said no. If he came up with a question for someone later, he’d
email them directly.

“Then I suppose that’s it for today in terms of the meeting…but…. today is also cause for
celebration!!”

Great.

He listened to the head of marketing as everyone appeared excited for the news, his jaw set
with impatience for reasons everyone was completely oblivious to.

“The youngest member of our marketing team—and the best intern the team could ask for—
finally finishes her term with the company today!”

A slew of cheery overlapping voices and congratulations flooded the meeting, a couple
people deciding to share words of wisdom and encouragement.

He sighed internally as they rambled well wishes unprompted, silently hoping everyone
would make it as quick as possible. In terms of the intern—or anyone, now that he considered
it— leaving the company, he really, sincerely could not care less. All he cared about was
doing his job and doing it well, now growing restless at the fact that it was keeping him from
returning to the basement.

His thoughts turned back to their morning again, wondering how she was doing after a
relatively intense morning.

“Perhaps our notable business analyst can share some parting words for you before you get
that masters degree!”

It took him a beat to realize that was him, quickly giving an easy smile to his awaiting
colleagues and thinking up the most generic advice he could give without coming off passive.
“When it gets hard…remember your why’s. Why you got into it, what it means to you. Keep
your head down, focus on the end goal and you’ll make it.” He considered his response to be
satisfactory enough.

“And stay away from the junk food.” He quipped. “Something I had to learn the hard way.”

Everyone laughed as she thanked him, smiling a bit too brightly at the advice of a man she
didn’t know.

Finally, it was over.

He clicked away from the meeting to close out his email as everyone said their goodbyes,
clicking back to quickly wish everyone a good day.

As for his own day it was going almost perfectly, and he intended to keep it that way.

He quickly scribbled a few points he’d need to do his own work later, trying to calm the
almost giddy feeling of finally being able to return to her.

“Is that how you made it through business school?”

He looked up to his screen to see the intern smiling back at him, quickly realizing he hadn’t
completely closed his tabs and they were now the only two left in the meeting.

Of fucking course.

For a moment he considered clicking out without replying, but that didn’t exactly fit the
perception of a man with nothing to hide which he wanted — needed to keep.

He forced himself to not seem flippant as he answered her, quickly resettling into his
demeanor from moments ago.

“I did learn the hard way that the late night fast food runs weren’t ideal, yes.”

She giggled and twisted a lock of hair around her finger, releasing it before biting her lip and
visibly considering her next words.

“I appreciate everything you do for this company. You get really involved with your work,
and it’s inspiring to see someone with so much passion.”

He thanked her in spite of his feelings of yearning, never one to turn down compliments on
any of his achievements. It was only obvious this was some sort of last attempt effort at
flirting— another thing he’d long since found himself used to being on the receiving end of.

“Just stay focused on your work.” He added in an effort to end the conversation. “I’m sure
you’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” She nodded in agreement. “You’re just so knowledgeable is all.”

He opened his mouth to say some variation of ‘having work to do’, but she quickly
interjected.

“Do you think I could maybe keep in contact with you after this?”

Her boldness sharply contrasted the girl he was actually drawn to and had become
accustomed to over the past four days.

Where the intern's boldness was almost grating, the girl in his basement was the complete
opposite—shy and apprehensive, an obvious flicker of fear every time she spoke to him.

Even when they first met she was shy, hands lightly fumbling together as she avoided eye
contact.

He tore himself away from the memory and refused to fully acknowledge that he missed her,
not wanting anything to show on his face.

“You have my email.” He said simply as he ended the conversation. “If you’ll excuse me,
I’ve got a couple deadlines to meet. I wish you the best of luck with everything.”

She thanked him with a smile and left the now empty meeting, clearly excited about the
possibility of being able to contact him again.

He shut down his computer and sighed, running a heavy hand over his face as he briefly lost
himself in thought.

In terms of the intern— he didn’t care about her at all. It was nothing to shove her off and
give her his professional email, and it certainly didn’t mean he had to respond, nor did he
intend to.

Instead his thoughts reverted to the obvious, pondering how he’d fill the day ahead. His
desire for her seemed to be slowly increasing, making him impatient in ways he couldn’t
recall struggling with since high school.

Each of his day long-suppressed desires had been buried for her benefit. And now that he had
the freedom to use her as he pleased, they surged forth with double the intensity.

Sure, he could technically force himself to hold back if he really tried, but the thought alone
felt unbearable.

He wanted to hit her harder, force himself a little bit deeper, take every little cruelty he’d
already put her through just a little bit further.

But the remainder of his fading resolve kept him there, seated in his office and contemplating
his actions more than he ever had before she came into his life.

Unlike his time constraint this morning, he had the rest of the day to indulge in whatever he
wanted. But he also knew he needed to be more careful.
He couldn’t ignore that she’d shown an interesting change in behavior today, something that
to him signaled a monumental change in her mental status.

She was trying to hurt herself.

The thought made him proud of everything he’d done to break her down to that point,
recalling every declaration of hate and mania fueled kicks she’d sent in his direction.

To him it was good, it was what he wanted—but it also meant that her current state could
easily be unraveled to some sort of immutable psychosis, or send her plummeting over the
edge faster than he could catch.

He humored his vastly limited moral side, removing himself from his unadulterated joy and
instead taking an outside perspective.

At a base level, he knew it was wrong—all of it. Kidnapping, rape, depriving her of a
medication given to her by a licensed professional. The list was endless, and still yet
growing.

And on paper, it was sad. But if there was one thing he was good at, it was rationalization.

It wasn’t all bad.

He had more than enough happiness for the two of them. And really, he’d done a kindness to
her parents. Sudden disappearance should be a far easier thing to cope with than finding their
daughter hanging in her bedroom.

The sudden image of made him set his jaw, an unfamiliar feeling of dread filling his chest at
the thought of losing her. He didn’t want to think about anything like that happening to her.

He couldn’t.

He quickly shifted his thoughts, thinking the way he left any of her loved ones without
answers was a far better ignorance than what was actually happening to her.

She seemed to have people who cared about her, or at least never ceased to mention them in
the beginning, before she realized he didn’t care.

But as he sat and thought about it, he did care. Not in a normal, stabilized human being way
where he’d experience even a shred of empathy or be willing to let her go— it was far more
selfish than that—making a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

What he liked was the idea that someone, somewhere, desperately wanted what was his.

She was only his.

And based on her outburst this morning, she was starting to understand it too.

She previously refused to agree to it, but she really was his pretty little thing. She was
growing feeble in both stature and personality, and increasingly easy to manipulate into doing
what he thought was best for her.

His own desires had finished battling themselves, the more carnal ones rising victorious.

What he wanted, what he always wanted, the only thing he’d ever truly want— was her.

For years he suppressed his desires, but now she was there . Beautifully and painfully
distraught, and available to take whatever he wanted to give.

He stood up as confidently as always and prepped to go back into the basement, no longer
caring to self reflect, hold back, or tone down what he truly wanted just for her sake.

He didn’t consider himself a monster—he wouldn’t let anything truly detrimental happen to
her. In his own way, he cared about her deeply. If he did push her over the edge today, then so
be it.

If he had to, he’d throw a net to catch her just in time.

The urge to use the bathroom was almost painful now, pulsing uncomfortably throughout her
pelvis and making her press her bent knees together.

She went rigid upon his return, his demeanor elated as ever as he approached her.

“I forgot to let you use the bathroom.” He observed with a tsk as he reached for the handcuff
key in his pocket. “You should’ve reminded me.”

She willed herself to look over to him, quickly averting her gaze once their eyes made
contact.

There wasn’t anything she had to say to that. She wondered if he’d forgotten that if it was up
to her she wouldn’t willfully opt to speak to him at all, or ever. Even if she did remind him,
there was no telling whether or not that would’ve upset him too.

He slightly hummed to himself as if her lack of response was interesting, the anticipation of
being able to use the bathroom making her fidget where she sat.

“You really have to go, dont you?” He slightly tilted his head as he watched her, making her
frown at his fake pity.

She didn’t respond, fist tightening in the handcuff as she focused on not using the bathroom
where she sat— which she really, really preferred not to.

“Four days,” He pulled the handcuff key from his pocket and let it clatter on the stand next to
the bed, landing just out of her reach.
“That’s how long you’ve been here.”

She looked up at him curiously, eyebrows slightly creasing in confusion. The knowledge did
give her a perspective on time that made her feel a bit less like she was losing her mind, but
she couldn’t figure out why he was telling her.

“You know what’s intriguing sweet girl? In those four days, you still haven’t learned that it’s
not very nice not to speak when you’re spoken to.”

Her mouth opened to say something—anything in her defense—but nothing came out.

“I could not let you use the bathroom at all.” He continued before she got the chance. “In
case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one who’s been caring for your basic needs—not you.”

She didn’t consider the way he barely met her basic human needs to be even remotely close
to “caring” for them.

“So, you want to use the bathroom?” He questioned, arms crossing over his chest as he
leaned against the stand in nonchalance.

“Beg for it.”

Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing with him ever was. Even when she was
evidently battered, drained of what she believed to be everything she had to offer— he still
wanted more.

“You can take your time.” He added easily. “It’s your bed you have to lay in after all. Not
mine.”

“Although— “ He thought out loud, interrupting her scattered thoughts. “The longer you
make me wait, the worse it’s going to be for you.”

She pressed her dry lips together in consideration, knowing that he did mean every word he
said.

He was willing to let her stay there until her bladder gave out, and whatever depravities he
planned for the rest of the day would only worsen the longer she sat there idly.

Her rational mind was faltering, but she tried to reason it the best she could.

He wasn’t making her beg solely for the sake of it. She knew what his ultimatum really
required was that she resign herself to the fact that every little thing she did, bathroom or
water, was supplied by his discretion.

She desperately wanted to cling to the version of herself that still saw light at the end of the
tunnel. The one that had enough hope to fight back, to curse at him, to tell him how horrible
he was.

But her resolve was fading fast. Her sensibilities were fading. Her brain felt like it was
zapping non-electric shocks randomly, convincing her it was easier to just give in to this one
request.

What was one more act of submission? If that’s what he wanted, if that’s what it took for
even a small sense of relief—so be it.

“Please.” she started softly, moreso pleading with him to not make her beg than she was
actually begging.

“I’m sorry.” she muttered. She turned towards him and gripped the end of the bed with her
free hand, freely letting her tears fall with exhausted honesty. “I’m just tired. I’m hungry
and… my head hurts. I’m not trying to be mean to you. I’m sorry. Please.”

Pathetic.

That’s exactly how she felt, apologizing to the man who tormented her.

He uncrossed his arms and reached for her chin, tilting her face up to his.

“Look how good you’ve gotten at begging sweet girl.” He smiled patronizingly, gently
running his thumb over the side of her jaw. He visibly appreciated the brokenness of her
current state, turning to reach for the key.

She felt a slight flicker of relief knowing it satisfied him, fingers tightening in anticipation.

“But don’t get complacent.” He discouraged. “There’s always room for improvement.”

Using the bathroom being one of the few moments of relief she’d felt in the past four days
made her feel even more despondent.

She made quick work of it, pushing herself to her feet before turning to reach for the sink.

He reached for her hand and she froze, fear from one of the last times he touched her in the
bathroom still lingering.

His expression softened, an almost kind smile crossing his face.

“You said you wanted to leave the basement, didn’t you?”

She stared at his hand for a moment, pondering whether or not she could trust him to do what
he said. He could be attempting to do almost anything else— force her into a closet, tie her
up in some sort of shed, or simply getting her hopes up just to lie.

He was also exceptionally cruel to her today, and she hadn’t exactly been given a sign that he
planned on relenting.
But maybe she was wrong. She did hold up her end of the bargain by not attempting to pry
her arm out of it’s restraints, and she didn’t give him any sort of retaliation when he told her
to beg.

She had no reason to trust him— not logically. But her logic was muted, and he was
dangerously adept at changing his demeanor.

A deep breath filled her lungs as she took his hand, her heart rate gently rising once she met
his gaze.

A glimmer of pride shone in his eyes, knowing he managed to win her over.

She let him gently pull her through the basement until they reached the stairs, chest slightly
tightening as she recalled the last time they both stood there.

Her hand involuntarily squeezed around his as she stared at the ground, the memory of blood
trickling from her nose all too visceral.

She hoped anything even remotely like that wouldn’t be her fate today.

He paused to pull something out of his pocket when they reached the top of the stairs, her
view partially obstructed as she stood behind him.

She tried to peer over his side anyway, as if she could open the door herself one day solely
from visual memory.

The door opened with a heavy click.

She jumped unconsciously, unaware that the sound had long since etched itself into her mind,
forever linked to inevitable terror.

He didn’t look back at her as he pulled her into a hallway, not bothering to lock the door
behind them.

The sight of the door from the other side was jarring. It made her already dire situation even
more real —even more intense. The locks placed on the door from the other end looked
complex, and nauseatingly deliberate.

But still nobody would ever suspect that someone was being held against their will below,
hidden from the world as if she were nothing more than a shadow.

She turned her gaze to the rest of the hallway as he pulled her along.

In another world, she would’ve been impressed.

The inside of his house looked like something out of a model home catalogue, the ones she
aimlessly flipped through after being dragged to her parents doctor’s appointments as a kid.

The walls were tall, white, paneled, and evenly decorated with paintings. Natural lighting
flowed throughout, making her desperate to see the sun again.

His home was warm and almost inviting, nothing evident to point to the fact that it was
maintained by someone so deranged.

She peered at her unknown surroundings as they rounded a corner, already passing up two
other doors.

By the looks of it, he made more money than both of her parents combined. He could likely
afford to have almost anything he wanted—yet he still wanted her.

She suddenly felt even more uneasy. Jittery. Her brief enthrallment at the change in scenery
quickly wore off, making her desperate for escape in a way she hadn’t been since she first
woke up.

There was no way of knowing where the front door was, but it had to be there somewhere. It
had to.

Before she knew it she was pulling on his hand, trying to free herself from his grasp.

She screamed out of desperation, instantly finding her efforts to be useless. A surge of
adrenaline made her try yanking her hand away from him similar to the way she had earlier,
not caring if she hurt herself in the process.

He was on her in half a second, wordlessly scooping her up from the ground and throwing
her over his shoulder.

If it were even just two days prior, she might’ve been able to slip away. But he was
exponentially stronger than her, especially in her current attenuated state.

She screamed as he kept walking, kicking her restrained legs against the single arm that held
them down.

“Let me go! ” she shouted at him, her balled fists repeatedly hitting his back. He walked as if
she were completely still, briefly pausing to slightly readjust her position.

He continued a few paces more until they reached the end of a hall, opening an unknown
door before stepping inside.

“Put me down put me—“

He released her without warning, not giving her the opportunity to steady herself. She tripped
over her own two feet, instinctively reaching her arms behind her to avoid a harsh fall.

It hardly helped, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she scrambled to sit up.
She looked around in a panic as he closed the door behind him, quickly identifying the room
by its desk and rows of bookshelves. An office.

“w—why am I in here?” she stammered in confusion.

He didn’t respond. Instead he locked the door behind him, turning to walk over to her as he
slowly undid his belt.

His eyes had darkened, the mask of kindness completely faded from his eyes and replaced by
the same hungry gaze from earlier.

She whined and crawled backwards on her now sore forearms, realizing she hadn’t seen a
single neighboring home in any of the windows they passed. From what she could tell his
office was in the middle of his home, and she didn’t think she’d be heard screaming.

It prompted her to try something else, not fully thinking it through before the words spilled
out.

“Please let me go.” she paused her movement and pleaded with him, tears streaming from
her eyes.

“Just open the door and let me go, I won’t say anything please —“

Her plea sparked a different kind of anger as he closed the distance between them, a tightly
wound fist pulling her up by her hair.

He slammed her into the nearest wall with such force that it knocked the air out of her chest,
a bone crushing grip moving to her chin.

“What the fuck did I say about asking me that?”

She couldn’t remember. She shook her head and sobbed, unable to meet the angry expression
staring down at her.

Depleted and tired, she pleaded with him again.

“Please just let me go.”

He moved to forcefully pull her against him, a small struggle ensuing as he turned her around
until her back rested against his chest.

She realized there was a mirror on the wall in front of them, unable to pull away as his arms
tightly wrapped around her middle from behind.

“Do you know what would happen if I were to let you go right now sweet girl?”

She struggled against his arms as he smiled at their reflections, trading his anger for a
taunting tone.
“Let you walk right out that door, run and scream forever until you find someone to help you,
tell them how absolutely “horrible” I’ve been to you?”

There was nothing she could do but listen, goosebumps prickling over her skin as he leaned
close to her ear.

“I’m sure you’d be fine… at first.”

She briefly paused her movements, red eyes staring at his reflection and deliberately avoiding
her own.

“But nothing would ever be the same. When people never stop asking you if you’re okay,
you’ll think of me. If you so much as hear a door open a certain way, you’ll think of me. You
won’t ever have a normal relationship, and it’ll take you years to have sex again.”

He paused to chuckle to himself, as if he found his next statement to be humorous.

“And even if you do— every single orgasm for the rest of your life, you’ll think of me.”

She didn’t notice the bulge hardening against her back.

“And of course,” He stared at her reflection and admired her dismay. “I’m the only man to
ever make you cum. That’s quite a thing to live with.”

“Get off of me!” she screamed. “I don’t care I don’t care just let me—“

“And you know what else would happen?” He reached up a hand to firmly grab her jaw,
forcing her to look at him in the mirror.

“Your parents would probably never let you out of their sight again. But… you’re also an
adult sweet girl. The moment life inevitably continues and they have to leave you, do you
know what would happen?”

He slipped his hand low and in between her unclothed thighs, groping her as she weakly
strained against him.

“Time passes. You’re ‘healing’. Eventually they’d get more comfortable leaving things out
that they normally wouldn’t have. Picture it for me sweet girl. Really picture it.”

She screamed at the top of her lungs and he let her, both of them knowing it wouldn’t change
her current position.

“You’re there in your home, all alone, nothing to think about but me—“

She shook her head at his unflawed reflection, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Please stop.” she pleaded just above a whisper, seeing exactly where this was going.

He ignored her.
“All alone and unsupervised, you’d reach for the first thing you could find to hurt yourself. A
blade, pills, some sort of rope. Only this time—“

He pulled his hand away from groping between her thighs and reached for her injured
forearm, holding it in front of the mirror as his voice lowered to something self assured.

“It wouldn’t be like this. It would be the kind of hurting yourself thats permanent—the one
you can’t undo.”

She sobbed loudly as her knees nearly gave out, forcing him to pull her back to her feet.

He gently shushed her and kissed up her neck from behind, briefly returning his hand
between her legs and savoring her cries.

She didn’t notice him groan or press himself against her, letting him lead her over to his desk
and bend her over the side of it.

He was right.

He was right about everything.

There was no way she could make it out of this and become the same person she was before,
or anyone even close to it.

The realization weighed heavy on her and made her go numb, but she was wrong about that
too.

She didn’t notice that he’d taken off his belt and folded the leather in half, not until he sent it
flying through the air with no restraint, landing a few inches above her upper thigh.

The ache made her shoot up with a pained gasp of surprise, his hand on her upper back
forcing her back down. She was far from numb.

It hurt— badly.

He completely robbed her of her ability to stew in the thoughts of the words he said, instead
bringing his belt down again so harshly that she wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably well into
tomorrow.

She squeezed her jaw shut and blinked the tears from her eyes, trying her best to embrace the
pain as a distraction.

It didn’t work. It was too overwhelming. He randomly paused in between strikes to run a
hand over the marks, slinging the belt over his shoulder as he admired his handiwork.

“Y’know sweet girl,” He started slowly after three strikes, peering at the indentations on her
skin. “I’d say it’s a shame you tried to run, but I can’t lie. You look fucking perfect like this.”

He pulled his hand away from her upper back and admired her stance, undoubtedly appearing
a crying mess of tears as she bent over his desk.
“I should’ve done this sooner.”

The hardest hit yet made her cry out with a stifled cry, making her slump to the ground in
front of him as if her bones had suddenly disappeared all at once.

She weakly wrapped her hands around his leg as she sat at his feet, uncontrollably shaking
and pleading the most sincere she ever had.

“please—“ she wept, searching his face for any sort of mercy. “I can’t—“

“The sympathy you’re searching for doesn’t exist.” He said plainly.

“Now get the fuck up.”

Her head slumped to the floor in dejection as she sat on her knees, completely devoid of the
ability to stand up again. Her hands still clung tightly around his leg, a desperate grip of
mental turmoil.

She was visibly defeated and lost in sorrow, finally surrendering to the crushing weight of her
despair.

He carelessly pulled her up by her arm when she didn’t obey him, prying her away from his
feet before tossing her back over the desk.

Even in her detached state nothing could have prepared her for the sound of the belt being
flipped in his hand buckle side up—or the feeling of it harshly swatting into her skin.

It hurt more than almost anything she’d felt before, making her dig her nails into his desk
with a barely oppressed scream.

She found herself wishing that he would fuck her instead, the pain of it paling in comparison
to what she experienced now.

Her nervous system breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his belt falling to the floor, his
hands moving to the button on his pants.

She stared through tear clouded eyes at the painting on the nearest wall, wishing for the
return of her earlier detachment to provide some semblance of comfort.

It didn’t come when he forced himself inside of her, and a loud groan was the only sound to
fill the room.

It didn’t come when he pulled her up by her neck, bodies pressed together as he kissed up the
side of her face, telling her how much he missed fucking her.

It didn’t come when he told her how pretty she was, the slight joviality of his tone getting cut
off by a moan as he told her she hadn’t cried this hard since she first woke up.

But it did come eventually.

He was almost finished by then, hips crashing into hers with enough force to push her onto
the tips of her toes.

Soft whimpers escaped her lips in tandem with his pace, the only reminder that they were her
own being the fact that they were the only two in the room.

She had drifted away from her body— floating away exactly like she did after the first time
he raped her.

Thinking of the word rape normally would’ve made her cry, but she wasn’t there to
experience it.

Her body had taken the space for her, her mind drifting to somewhere else far, far away.

Nothingness.

She could hear the string of curses under his breath as his pace quickened, but that was the
extent of her inclusion.

“Fuck fuck fuck—“

He came buried inside of her, hips rolling deep into hers as his hands rested on either of her
sides.

She could hear him catch his breath, her heavy eyelids blinking extremely slow as she felt a
familiar wetness in between the two of them.

At some point during their time her head had turned, now facing one of the only windows in
his office.

She could ponder everything she’d been through from a distance now, with a stance that felt
somehow matured— almost ethereal.

She could never be the same person she was before, ever again.

The life he took her from had objectively good memories, but it was vastly overshadowed by
an immovable veil of hopelessness.

He was right about everything he ever told her.

Her life was worthless, and she wasn’t anything worth fighting for.

If her family was still looking for her, even day in and day out—it wouldn’t have mattered.
She was dead to them a long time ago.

She came to a conclusion as she stared out the window, appreciating the way a tree full of
leaves aimlessly floated through the breeze, knowing she’d likely never feel it for herself
again.

Her mind was made up.

As soon as she got the opportunity, she would find a way to kill herself.

In the past that would have scared her— the thought of her consciousness ceasing to exist at
once had always filled her with anxiety.

But her consciousness, her state, her very life had become nothingness. There was no
difference, not anymore.

She looked up to the sun as she stared out of the window, appreciating it for everything it
was. Consistently warm and bright, never ceasing in its obligation to sustain life. She wished
she could’ve been that way. In another world, maybe she was.

Her view was obstructed as he leaned into her field of vision, eclipsing her view of the
sunshine and replacing it with himself.

It was fitting, and only four days into what would only be her new life for a little bit longer, it
felt right.

He’d long since become her sun.

__

She blinked up at him as it’s rays lingered in her vision, unflinching as he reached to swipe a
strand of wet hair away from her face.

Whether it was from tears or sweat, neither of them could possibly be sure.

He pulled her up slowly, immediately pulling her into his arms.

Comfort was an odd feeling.

She’d almost forgotten what that felt like, so used to being on the receiving end of his cruelty.

At some point he’d tucked himself away and redressed, his belt now around his waist again
as if it never left.

He gently pulled away from her and reached to hold her face in his hands, clearly trying to
read her expression.

“It’s okay sweet girl.” His voice came out soft, a tone she’d never heard from him before.
“Come back to me.”

Somehow his touch was an anchor, slightly pulling her back into her body.

She wondered what he meant by that. In her eyes she hadn’t changed. She just simply saw the
truth, and made up her mind what to do with it.
He gave her a brief expression of worry before swiping his thumbs over tears she didn’t
know existed, then gently pulled her head to rest on his chest.

They stayed like that for a while, his hand gently rubbing over her back as he held her.
Whether it was thirty seconds or several minutes, she was incapable of measuring.

He dropped his hands slowly so as to not scare her, moving to reach for her hand in the same
way he had earlier.

His grip tightened as he pulled her along, pulling her back into her body a bit more. Her eyes
were no longer full of curiosity as she followed, her limited attention span leaving her eyes
trained only on him.

He led her into what took her a moment to realize was a bathroom, the door closing behind
them just as gently as he was now being with her.

She was left standing next to the sink as he opened a cabinet, pulling out a towel and turning
on the water.

He moved to clean her face of whatever was dirtying it, majority of its previous contents
wiped off onto her shirt earlier in the morning.

His movements were soft and the towel was warm, his eyes studying her expression before
he tossed it to the side.

“We should get you into the bath.” He observed, the slight end of his tone posing it more as a
suggestion.

She didn’t respond, blinking up at him without a thought in her mind.

He barely hid a sigh at seeing her vacant expression, gently suggesting that she use the
bathroom before they left.

She agreed without a word and walked to the toilet, noticing him turn away to rinse out the
towels and wash his own hands.

It was almost odd without his gaze— it was the first time he didn’t watch her use the
bathroom.

She silently wiped away the stickiness that spilled onto her inner thighs, swiping the tissue
over any skin it still lingered on.

He watched her wash her hands after finishing, taking her hand in his as he opened the door.

They walked into the hallway then back into his office, her heart rate increasing on instinct.

Only this time his demeanor was different, slowly guiding her along the bookshelves.

“You said you liked reading.” He started matter of factly. “But I never asked you what you
liked.”
He never cared about what she liked, and even through her altered mental status she knew
that to be true.

Her heart rate slowed once her body no longer sensed any immediate danger, making her
realize he was trying to pull her out of her daze.

It would’ve worked on her yesterday—or even just this morning.

But now she stared aimlessly at the shelves, something that she would’ve once been almost
thankful for now leaving her feeling indifferent.

He again failed to hide a brief look of concern, browsing the shelf and eventually reaching for
something with the hand that wasn’t holding hers.

“Here,” He placed a book in her spare hand.

“I think you’ll like this one.”

She didn’t bother looking at the title, holding onto the book as her arm fell to her side. He
rubbed his thumb over her hand in a brief attempt at bringing her back, but it had no effect.

They walked back to the basement hand in hand, his grip on hers signaling that he still didn’t
trust her not to run, or found her current state to be too unpredictable.

She almost found a dark sense of humor in it, considering thats exactly how he made her feel
countless times.

Stepping into the basement again was sobering. It was the source of all her grief, just as much
as the man leading her down the steps.

He sat her down on the bed and reached for the handcuffs, eyeing her expression as he cuffed
her wrist back to the headboard.

“I’ll be back.” He placated, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Five minutes.”

She watched as he ascended the stairs, the sound of the door closing jolting her fully out of
her altered state.

Surprisingly, her tears didn’t fall. She only felt a bit more emotionally numb than before. But
it was now accompanied by a deep ache, and a stinging pain where her belted skin met the
sheets of the bed.

He returned when he said he would, descending the steps while holding something she
couldn’t see.
Upon his approach she realized he held a bowl and bottle of water, giving her a beat of
surprise.

He seemed so sure of himself when he told her she wouldn’t be eating until what she thought
was another day, her stomach slightly tightening in the presence of food.

She didn’t question him when he passed her the bowl, peering into it to find pasta mixed in a
heavy sauce. Her eyes looked up to him briefly, a look of confusion crossing over her face.

“You’re not allergic to anything are you?”

That would’ve been a good question to ask beforehand.

She shook her head.

“I’m not hungry.”

She was impressed at herself for even being able to say such a lie—she clearly was hungry.

But regardless of whether or not she made up her mind— he was still the reason she was
here, and the reason she experienced the torment that brought her to this point.

Maybe taking her life was always going to be the end to her story, but it didn’t matter now.
As indifferent as she wanted to be, he was still the fuel in her fire of sorrow.

“You need to eat.” He said without malice, moving to reach for the bowl. “I have something
for you, after.”

That never meant anything good.

She almost furrowed her eyebrows as he pulled the chair closer to the bed, stabbing into a
noodle and lifting it to her mouth.

After a moments hesitation she obliged, biting into it and chewing carefully.

It was good, really good, and she didn’t think it was fueled by just her hunger. She let him
give her another bite, and then another, slowly feeding her until he deemed it to be too much
to make her throw up.

Having a full stomach made her feel alive again, but she completely rejected the feeling.

He set the bowl down on the stand next to the bed and reached into his pocket, holding out a
pill in front of her.

She stared into his palm, immediately recognizing the imprint as her anti-depressant. It made
her pause for a moment, considering whether or not she wanted it.

At first glance, she feared that it would aid in dissuading her ultimate decision. She didn’t
want to feel better, not in the slightest. She was sure of what she wanted, and that was to be
gone forever.
 But it was only one pill, and not likely to make her feel any better in the long run. If anything
it would help get rid of her withdrawal symptoms, which could make things be a little more
bearable until she found a way to carry out her plan.

She pursed her lips together quickly and reached for the pill with her only free hand, letting
him pass her the bottle of water after she placed it in her mouth.

He took the bottle from her after she swallowed the pill down and took several more sips,
moving to curl into a ball on the bed.

“You should let me give you a bath sweet girl.” He set the bottle down and watched her settle
her head into the pillow. “Before you go to sleep.”

She didn’t respond, hoping that he’d catch onto her tiredness. Perhaps it was unsanitary, but
now that her face was clean and it was all said and done—she just wanted to sleep.

For once he nodded with understanding, not bothering to insist on it.

“Do you want me to stay?”

She froze, both at the request and because she didn’t have a response.

The girl she was on the first day would’ve told him no. She would’ve said it a lot more
colorfully, but she certainly wouldn’t have wanted him around at all.

But that girl had long since passed away, and if she had it her way soon— she would too. It
didn’t matter if she lost or won his game. She knew the outcome wouldn’t change.

The last time he stayed until she fell asleep, it gave her an odd sense of comfort to have his
presence.

She nodded softly, deciding after everything it’d be nice to have a human presence that
wasn’t the pathetic excuse she was herself.

Their eyes locked together for a moment, both of them not completely sure what was going
on in the other’s head.

“Will you stay until I wake up?” she muttered softly.

He almost smiled, nodding in agreement at her request.

“Of course sweet girl.”

Chapter End Notes

in case you haven’t heard it lately~ you matter, you make a difference, and the world is a
better place with you in it <3
questions, comments, concerns ↓
 Chapter 13: Missing Person at Risk
Chapter Summary

the last five days, her parents pov

Chapter Notes

we could all use a break from the basement

(not saying this will be any happier, but still)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Five days.

Five days without knowing where the only person she had brought into the world,
undoubtedly the person she loved the most —could possibly be.

She sat in the darkness of the kitchen and stared blankly at the framed photo of her daughter
on the table, knees brought to her chest as if she were a child again.

It was always portrayed in films—the heart wrenching plot of someone losing their child, and
an award winning performance from someone who never experienced anything even
remotely like it.

But to live through it felt like a permanent shroud of darkness, and the cliche of “heart ripped
from chest” couldn’t even begin to cover it.

To her the irony was cruel, reminding her of the way her daughter slowly grew an aversion
for those types of stories. It had become an almost familiar pattern whenever they had a
movie night and a scene veered to something too emotional, she would scroll through her
phone instead.

So she met her daughter where she was at, encouraging her to pick the movies from there on
out. It was worth it to see her laugh, even if she secretly found the plots to be formulaic.

Eventually she grew to love them, mostly because they made her daughter smile. In the
months leading up to her disappearance, that was harder to come by.

For weeks she had watched her gradually pull away from the things she once loved, briefly
wondering if she’d done something to cause it.
Every attempt to interest her in something other than spending time alone was met with some
sort of excuse, “I’m just tired” slowly becoming the expected response.

Instead she did what she believed any good mother would do. She caught her before leaving
out the door for work one day, told her that she loved her, she wasn’t alone, and she could
always come to her about anything.

Right when her thoughts had grown to what she once considered the highest level of concern
as she prepared dinner that night, her daughter appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Can we talk?”

It gave her a feeling of relief she desperately yearned for again. She smiled in response before
tasking her with chopping up carrots alongside her as she listened, letting her find her words
in her own way.

A tale of thinly veiled sadness filled their next few moments, the only sounds she gave in
response being a few hums of acknowledgment.

“Nothing bad happened with anyone or anything I’m just… drained more often than not.
They moved me to the back of the store at work because of it, so I’m not as involved with the
customers as I used to be.”

With a soft nod of understanding she placed a lid on the pot and turned to her daughter,
swiping away a strand of hair that lingered on her face.

The admission was heavy and sudden, but filled her with love more than anything. She’d do
anything to take her pain and make it her own, but found solace in knowing that she was still
able to be there for her through it all.

“Thank you for telling me.” She smiled gently before firmly pulling her into her chest. “I
know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it’ll be okay.”

She pulled her away after a moment and held her face in her hands.

”You’ll be okay honey.” She smiled down at her vulnerable expression. “And besides—who
cares about being moved to the back of the store? Now you don’t have to deal with creepy
men asking you questions they already know the answer to.”

They shared a small laugh then finished their dinner, and it was in those moments that she
suggested a local therapy practice.

She was met with a skeptical look and then eventual agreement, a small nod from her
daughter once she assured her that getting help wasn’t bad— just someone to talk to that was
professionally equipped to help her move forward.

“And just promise me one thing.” She placed her fork down as their meal came to a close.

“Hm?”
She watched her daughter intently, eyeing the tired way she rested her chin into her palm,
aimlessly chasing a carrot with her fork.

“If it gets bad… you’ll tell me. Or your dad— anyone.”

She recalled watching her straighten up in contemplation, another small nod before agreeing
softly.

“I will mom.”

“I’ll need more than that—“ She had playfully smirked in reply, “Something to make it
solid.”

Her elbow moved to the kitchen table as it had many times when her daughter was younger,
pinky finger raised in between them.

For the first time in a long time, she heard her laugh. Genuine and sweet, a small smile
creeping over her face as she moved to pinky promise her.

“You are going to be okay.” She assured her again, tightening her finger around hers.

“I know our thoughts might try to convince us of the worst sometimes, but that’s all they are.
Just thoughts. There’s a lot of good to look forward to. For example…. you ever take your
friend up on that date?” She saw the opportunity to be nosy about her daughter’s love life as
well as lighten the tone, and she seized it.

It earned her another laugh.

“No. He’s great I just….I dunno.” she shrugged. “Maybe eventually.”

“You’ve got all the time in the world.” She assured her. “No need to rush.”

A sense of relief washed over both of them, one of their hardest talks now a thing of the past.

She longed to travel back in time to tell her that the understanding she had stemmed from her
own struggles with similar feelings, plaguing her in the months after childbirth.

But she didn’t want to make it about herself. Instead she took it as full circle, an opportunity
to understand the mindset she once possessed after bringing her into the world— a chance to
be there for her in a way that she likely wouldn’t have been able to otherwise.

Life seemed to be moving forward in the following months.

She watched her have bad days— times where she wouldn’t eat much, stayed in her room for
hours on end, vastly overslept, or deliberately isolated herself.

But she didn’t push her. Progress wasn’t linear, and no matter how much she wanted to do
more, her daughter did have a support system.
She was elated when she took the initiative to set up her own therapy appointments not too
long after their talk, going in for in person appointments every other week.

Eventually she began taking antidepressants, making plans with her friends, and seemed to be
smiling just a little bit more.

Right when she could see her start to learn how to put the worst of it behind her—she
vanished.

On the first day, she opened her bedroom door after several knocks with no response.

Empty.

It wasn’t completely abnormal, though she would’ve preferred a text saying she would be
home later. She went about her morning for another hour, sending her a quick text before she
left.

Morning honey, I’m gonna head to the grocery store now to avoid the afternoon rush. Want
anything?

It never delivered.

Her heart skipped with a beat of concern, quickly deciding on calling her ex-husband to see if
he’d heard from her.

“But her car isn’t here. My messages aren’t even delivering—“

“I’m sure she’s fine.” He interrupted her worrying. “She’s a young adult, probably just got
drunk with her friends and still sleeping it off. Lord knows you and I have definitely been
there before.”

She rolled her eyes at his calmness, shoving down the growing feeling that something was
wrong.

“She doesn’t drink.” She pointed out a bit firmer than she meant to.

“First time for everything.” He quipped.

She stayed silent, making him realize her worry was genuine.

“Look..” He briefly paused before speaking, as if he was trying to also convince himself.

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders— I highly doubt she’s gotten into any trouble. Just
give it a few hours, I’m sure she’ll reach out soon.”

His advice actually worked, making her breathe a sigh of relief after hanging up and
convincing herself she was just overthinking.

She went about her errands and came back just before the afternoon, disheartened when she
didn’t find her car in the driveway.
“I thought she was going home after she closed the store last night,” Her daughter’s only
standing childhood friend yawned into the phone.

“At least that’s what she told me. We were gonna hang out later today. Is everything okay?”

Her hand tightened on the steering wheel as she shook her head, not wanting to needlessly
worry anyone else.

She could’ve still been sleeping, just now waking up, or already on her way back home.

“No, she probably spent the night elsewhere. Just wanted to check with you first.”

Her thoughts still ran rampant with concern as she hung up, clicking to her call list and
tapping on her daughter’s contact once, twice, then three more times.

Nothing.

She tossed her phone to the passenger seat after the third voicemail greeting, turning over the
ignition as she realized there was still another place to check.

Showing up to her daughter’s work out of the blue was maybe a tad helicopter parent, but
she’d rather be sure of her well-being instead of wait around for a call.

She knew how the scenario would go: a surprised “mom, what are you doing here?” for
showing up out of the blue, and a “ nothing, just making sure you’re okay—charge your
phone and keep in touch” in response. She’d offer to buy her lunch for the shift she picked
up, then tell her goodbye.

Every night she dreamt of that being the outcome.

A worker greeted her once she arrived to the family owned home improvement store, turning
to walk towards the fabric station before being stopped by the owner.

She was familiar enough with him, a short elderly man wearing the terribly bright yellow
apron as part of the store’s uniform.

He went on and on with small talk until she found a place to interrupt, gesturing to the back
of the store.

“If you’ll excuse me I’m here to visit—“

“Oh yes!” He lifted a finger into the air and reached into his apron, fumbling with its contents
before pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

“If you could return this when you see her.”

He pulled out her daughter’s phone and held it out in between them, blissfully unaware of the
significance.
The hammering in her chest was all she could hear for the next few moments, movements
slowed as she reached to take it from him.

“Where did you get this?” She questioned.

“Oh, she left it here! Sometime last night I’m assuming. Although I am surprised she could
go so long without it—we all know how today’s youth are attached to these like their lives
depend on it!”

He chuckled innocently at his own joke, but this was the last moment on earth she could
bring herself to humor.

She gave a quick goodbye and rushed out of the store, calling her ex husband more times
than she had in the past month.

On the fourth dial she found herself pacing towards the rear of the parking lot, powerless to
stop her mind from racing with the worst.

“Take a deep breath, this could mean anything. It’s still early in the afternoon, she could be
back at home now for all we know—“

Her heart stopped just as her feet did in their tracks.

She observed her surroundings as if glue was stuck to the back of her eyes, the images in
front of her slowly piecing together.

Her daughter’s car.

She wasn’t sure what she rambled in a panic to get her ex husband to leave work. But after
what quickly began feeling like infinity, he was there.

A short conversation with the owner revealed that nobody had seen or heard single thing. She
was closing the store completely alone—no cameras, no security guard.

“I don’t understand.” The owner scrunched up his face in confusion. “All of the employees
take turns closing the store. There’s never been any dangers or concerns before.“

Useless. Suddenly everyone there felt fucking useless.

She stepped outside and wrapped her arms around herself, staring into space as if stewing in
her thoughts could give her an answer.

Her ex got off the phone a few feet away, closing the distance between them to say that the
sheriff recommended they come to the station in person.

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, hesitating as she put the worst of her fears
into words.

“What if something happened.” She stared ahead as if she didn’t hear him, tears pricking at
the corners of her eyes. “What if—“
“We can’t play the what if game.” He shook his head with fraught.

“It won’t help us, it won’t help her.”

The words rang true, making her slowly allow herself to be grounded.

“We have to focus on what we can control, one step at a time. What we can do right now is
check to see if she made it home, and see what the sheriff can do to help.”

Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes met his.

Whether it was because his were the exact same shade as their daughters, or the fact that she
could visibly see he was hiding his own worst fears—she couldn’t be sure.

Still she nodded and swiped away her first tear, not knowing that hundreds were to follow in
the coming days.

__

They waited in the lobby of the only police station in town, her knee bouncing along with
growing anxiety.

She wasn’t home.

The groceries were left sitting on the kitchen table, abandoned with the hope they’d be put
away upon her return, and her daughter would be found asleep in her room.

She gave another frustrated sigh as she incorrectly entered the passcode into her daughter’s
phone.

It was an invasion she would’ve never otherwise attempted, but she was desperate for
answers.

“You might lock it for good doing that.” Her ex pointed out as another attempt failed.

“I’ve seen her enter it before I just can’t remember—“

Right when he opened his mouth to try and tell her they should wait for the sheriff—it
unlocked. For the first time since she woke up, a bit of hope sparked in her chest.

It didn’t take long to find that there was nothing there. No mention of her whereabouts, no
calls to or from any numbers she didn’t recognize.

The last text she sent was to the friend she spoke to earlier, nothing to signal anything was
off.

“I’m so ready to get off work, I miss my bed. What time is the movie tomorrow?”

Her heart sank.

The sheriff stepped into the lobby and greeted them before walking them into a room,
shaking their hands as they sat down.

Her ex husband re-explained the entire story as the sheriff typed into his computer, from her
found phone to the found car, to where they are now.

“We’ll do some follow up on our own, send a couple units out that way to the hardware store
but—nobody saw anything? Heard anything?”

“No.” She shook her head at the reminder. “They don’t even have cameras in the area.”

“Did she say anything to either of you? Going to visit someone, planning a trip somewhere
—“

“No.” Her ex answered this time. “She never ran away as a kid, and has always had good
communication. She’s never just left, let alone without saying something to either of us.”

The sheriff scratched his chin with a thoughtful hum as he kept typing, going down a list of
generic questions.

Name. Date of Birth. Height. Weight. Eye Color. Hair color. Hair Length. Hair Style.

“Is she diagnosed with anything?”

She briefly paused and stared at her ex husband, then back at the sheriff.

As her parents they both knew the answer, but she didn’t know why it mattered.

“Depression and anxiety but… what does that have to do with it?”

“Changes the status of the report.” He stated. “Goes from missing person to missing person at
risk.”

“Okay… but she’s not at risk because of her mental health? She’s at risk because she’s gone,
and she’s never gone missing before.”

“That’s just the law ma’am. We’ll get this information taken so we can get the two of you out
of here. It’s best if you wait at home, see if she shows up there. Does she take any
medication?”

After forty-five minutes the report was compiled, and the sheriff stood.

“What we’ll do now is get this entered. We’ll send a bolo to nearby agencies, and if any law
enforcement officer comes across her and runs her info, they’ll get the information that she’s
entered as missing.”

She was partially relieved, but there had to be more they could do.

“That’s it?”
“Look I know this is hard for the two of you, but I recommend going home and waitin’.
Missing people randomly show up all the time.”

That didn’t sound true, but the hope didn’t hurt.

___

The first day was the longest of her life. The evening came, but their daughter didn’t.

Her ex husband was still there, trying his best to distract them both.

“I’m staying, until she shows up.”

“You don’t have to do that” She shook her head and stared at the darkened sky from the
porch. “I’ll be fine.”

“No,” He insisted. “I’m going to. That way when she does show up, she’ll have double the
scolding for not keeping in touch.”

She gave a sad smile at his attempt to ease their sorrow, already knowing sleep wouldn’t
come to her.

____

On the second day, her daughter’s friend came by.

“I know she’s not here I just… wanted to return this.”

She placed her daughter’s tablet on the kitchen table, fists tightening at her sides as she
fought back tears.

“She let me borrow it for my school notes until I got mine fixed.”

She thanked her for returning it, trying to hide the fact that she didn’t think it mattered
anymore.

They shared a hug before she left an hour later, the tight embrace reminding her all too
closely of her daughter.

The police interviewed the home improvement store workers, checked the area for cameras,
and told them to call if anything changed.

It never did.

____
On the third day—fliers went up, but their hope went down.

She curled into a ball on her daughter’s bed, knowing there wasn’t a single time in her life
that she cried so much.

____

On the fourth day, a small search party was put together.

The town wasn’t all that big, and there wasn’t much greenery to cover. A search and rescue
dog picked up on her scent in the alley behind her work, but it vanished just before the end of
the parking lot.

___

The fifth day brought her to her current position, rigidly sat at the kitchen table as she stared
at her daughter’s photo.

Nothing changed.

There was no rhyme, no reason, no closure or even a hint of understanding as to what

happened.

The front door opened and she immediately perked up, hopes falling flat as her ex-husband
walked inside.

He stepped into the kitchen and stared at her observed position, a punch of familiar
heartbreak hitting his chest as he stared at his daughter’s photo.

Smiling and beautiful.

“Have you heard anything?”

She didn’t take her eyes away from the photo, mind swirling with the multiple memories she
had with her in this room alone.

“No.”

He sat down with a heavy sigh, the grief between the two of them palpable.

“Anything from the sheriff?”

“Same as always.” She replied as if she were reciting lines. ”Call us if you hear anything,
we’ll call you if we hear anything. They have nothing.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his jaw, the weight of the world making him suffocate.
The kitchen slightly darkened before he spoke again, the only sound being the even ticks of
the clock on the wall.

Nothing had ever hurt him this much. The heartbreak of divorce, losing his father—nothing,
nothing— could compare to how this felt.

The abruptness of her disappearance, the uncertainty. Wondering day in and day out if he
could’ve done something different, if she was even still breathing.

Slowly, he broke their familiar routine of silence.

“I think it’s time we consider she might’ve—“

“Might have what?” She demanded instantly, head whipping in his direction. “Killed
herself?”

Hearing it out loud felt like a knife. He set his jaw, silently considering his next words.

“It’s…” He shook his head, not wanting to believe it himself. “It might be easier for us to
cope with. If we do find her and that’s what happened—“

“She didn’t do that.” His words were interrupted quickly. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“We can’t have possibly known—“

“How the hell would that make any of this easier?”

Her tone was demanding, broken. Filled with bitter anger and a lingering hope that her only
child was still alive somehow.

“The unknown.” He started as she stood up, hands bracing on the counter in front of her.
“That’s what makes this unbearable. We don’t know if she was taken or if she left willingly.”

Her voice rose with frustration, a desperate desire to fix what she couldn’t.

“So it’s easier for you to think she hurt herself?”

He stayed silent, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the photo in front of him.

For days he tried to be strong for her—for himself, but his voice fell uneven.

“It’s easier than the thought of someone else doing it.”

It was the truth. He already failed at being a husband. His only real job in life was to protect
his daughter, and now he was failing miserably at that too.

The thought that someone could’ve hurt her and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about
it—that made him sick to his stomach, exponentially more than the thought of her already
being gone on her own terms did.

She shook her head in disbelief.

“That’s not what’s happening. And she didn’t hurt herself—she promised that if things got
bad she would tell me. You don’t understand a single fucking thing—nobody does.”

She visibly regret her words as soon as they were out, running a shaky hand over her face.

“I’m sorry.” She choked back a heavy sob.

“I—I know she was close to you too and you do understand I just—”

The dam of tears broke as he stood up to catch her in his arms, face burying in his chest as
she wept terribly.

”I just want our daughter back.”

“I know.” He shushed into her hair, finally allowing his own tears to follow. “Me too.”

____

Sleep rarely came to him in the past five days.

Whenever it did he hardly dreamt, torn between appreciation and disdain for the fleeting
images of his daughter.

Rifling through his own memories was hard enough, and so was knowing there wasn’t a
single thing he could do to change his current reality.

He recalled a time she stayed with him a month ago, still excited to see him even though he
was exhausted.

She made plans for them to do something that he couldn’t remember, turning to apologize for
having to reschedule with her as she sat on the couch next to him.

“Don’t apologize,” she looped her arm through his and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I still
think you’re a good dad. No matter how old you are.”

He playfully rolled his eyes at her joke and reminded her she would have the same fate one
day, face turning serious as he studied her sad smile.

“How are you doing honey? Seriously.”

She turned her eyes away from him but kept her chin on his shoulder, contemplating her
answer silently.

“I’m nothing without my word.” she quoted back to him with a smile. “I’m doing better.”

That memory plagued him the most. He wanted badly to believe that she had an involvement
in her own disappearance. No matter how twisted it was, it would’ve made their unrelenting
torment easier.
But the truth lingered with him like the buzz of his third beer wouldn’t.

He knew she was telling the truth.

___

He had avoided going into his daughter’s room the past five days, scared that it would
solidify her disappearance into reality.

But his ex wife had been in and out numerous times, so his irrational curse would’ve already
taken effect.

He missed her. With every fiber of his being, he missed her.

His heart sank as he opened her bedroom door, everything in the exact order she’d left it in.
She could walk through the door with the smile that melted his heart right now, and continue
her life without missing a beat.

He sat at her desk chair in silence, taking in his surroundings as an extension of her. Her
filled bookshelves, a small pile of clothes on the floor, boxes of puzzles stacked nearby, the
bookmark he bought her as a kid tucked into one of the notebooks on her desk.

The memory flooded back as he reached for it, the giddiness of her ten year old self excited
to see sparkling butterflies.

He slid the notebook from where it was stacked, opening it to find it was her journal.

Earlier in the week he had almost scolded his ex wife for going through her phone because he
didn’t want to pry.

But this involved her thoughts—it involved her. Something he would likely never have
access to again.

There was only one page filled out as he flipped through it, taking a deep breath as he read
the entry dated 4 days before her disappearance.

•••

sooo… new journal. mostly because i lost the other one, but also because my therapist was
adamant i pick it up again. and it’s …okay i guess?

people say how good journaling is all the time but really, my thoughts kinda scare me more
often than not. i’d rather not see them written out, because then they’re real. but then again…
i guess there’s a slight weight off my shoulders every time i do.

today is exactly two months since i started taking anti depressants. i was skeptical about that
at first too, because my psychiatrist told me it would only aid me in getting better, not be a
total cure. and overall i do think it’s helped, but sometimes it’s still hard.
at its worst i feel like life and trying are more trouble than they’re worth. nearly every little
thing makes me drained. getting ready for work, being at work, coming home and repeating
the cycle. even on my days off i don’t find much joy in anything, not like i used to. puzzles and
books are beginning to stack up in my room, and i don’t really see myself tending to them
anytime soon.

a lot of the times i feel dull, but somehow anxious at the same time. i don’t know why i feel
this way, i just do. i’ve had rough patches with both of them, but i know my parents never
stopped trying their best to give me their best, and things in my life could be much worse.

it makes me feel more guilty. like instead of being depressed, i should stop being so weak and
show them their efforts weren’t wasted on someone who often thinks they have little to no
worth.

but like my mom said, thats all thoughts are. just thoughts. they come and they go. it’s easy to
think that it would feel nice to be gone sometimes, like it would be freeing.

then i remember that i wouldn’t feel anything, ever again. it sounds nice on paper as i write
it, but the thought of my entire consciousness disappearing all at once is actually terrifying,
and i desperately don’t want to ever get to that point.

but as nice as the thoughts of total escape can feel sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like my story
should end that way.

because then at its best— i realize i have a lot of things and people to be thankful for, down to
the most basic things like a bed, water, clothes, and food.

i remember the days where my mom makes me smile in a way that only she can, my dad turns
something sad into something meaningful, or one of my friends come over unannounced and
drag me out until i have fun.

my mind still tries to convince me of the opposite, but even when i pull away, there are still
people who love me.

i don’t know why we’re doing this. any of us. bad things happen constantly, deserving or not.
and everyone really is going to die in the end. for all i know, i could be gone tomorrow.

but as hard as it can be to plainly see sometimes, deep down i know there’s a lot to live for,
and a lot of reasons to try.

that’s what i’m doing everyday. for myself and for the people who love me. if i look at things
the way my dad does, every week i can see some sort of progress. i truly am trying my best.

and that’s all we can do, isn’t it?

Chapter End Notes

see u back in the basement for chapter 15 — day 5 :D

(it’s been so fun and intense to write so far and i rlly hope you’ll love it)

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 14: Day 4: Part III
Chapter Summary

Day 4 Part III

Chapter Notes

hello, long time no see :)

firstly~ I AM SOOO SORRY for my absence? i swear i have not given up on this story
and never plan to.

i got stuck on a work shift that took a lot of time to get used to, and i swear e v e r y
single time i got into a good writing flow, i ended up having to leave for work.

but!! i've written a lot that i haven't finished editing just yet. well over 15k words and
counting, and i don't want to keep you guys waiting.

i decided to post less than half of it now as its own chapter, (yes its that much) and the
rest as another chapter within the next two days or less. (promise.)

thank you for being here if you still are, thank you for every single comment, and thank
you for being you.

i'm looking forward to posting more frequently!

i'm SO happy to be back with their story, and i hope you enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

__________

she woke up completely dressed, fully awake and ready to go.

the familiarity of her own home came second nature to her, easily finding her mother after a
few hurried strides towards the living room.

the conversation was spotty, but clear.

“enjoy your drive, call me or your dad when you get there.”

the words didn’t fully register, but she still gave a small nod of acknowledgment before
stepping closer towards the front door.

her mother suddenly appeared in her path, wrapping her in a hug she couldn’t feel.

“i’ll see you when you get back.”

she missed her already.

seconds later she slipped into the drivers seat with something pulling at her mind, strong
enough to take her focus away from the road.

her mind abruptly flipped to crashing, overwhelmed with the thought of how easy it could be.

she also knew it was bad—immensely wrong to think that way, but the desire to act on it was
strong.

why was she thinking like this?

her thoughts frightened her enough to pull over, legs heavy as she moved to walk up the hill
that appeared just down the road.

she was high above the ground quickly, the warming sun emboldening her every step.

within the blink of an eye she found herself at a bridge, climbing onto the ledge before she
could consider why.

the world was beautiful.

but a sudden tightness seized her chest, sharp and unrelenting. it swirled through her body
and up to her head, making her dizzy and unsteady.

the distance to the ground was far.

she couldn’t focus.

and yet— the truth was still crystal clear, circling her mind like a racetrack.

she was tired.

she wasn’t worthy.

she could just let go.

her foot stuttered closer to the edge as she looked up to the sky.

the sun was suffocating. it pressed down on her like a weight, blinding and inescapable. its
light crept into every corner, burning away every shadow she tried to hide in.
no matter how she moved, eventually it would reveal everything.

and then, it disappeared.

shadows stretched across the ground, soft and inviting, the moon slowly taking its place.
silver light reflected off the small creek below, steady and calm.

her mind was clear.

she could do it now.

she could be free.

all she had to do was let go.

her breath hitched as she inched closer to the edge. this time, she didn’t hesitate.

the world shifted.

for a moment there was falling, sharp and endless.

she thought there would be fear— or maybe regret.

but there was nothing.

only quiet.

the sun wouldn’t find her here.

____

He kept his promise, watching the even rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

She hadn’t stirred once since laying down, small inhales and his own occasional shuffling
being the only sounds he’d heard since she drifted off.

He gazed at her the way he had countless times before. Once with rage, possession,
overwhelming desire—but now time seemed to slow.

His eyes moved over the rarely serene expression on her face, the dirtied shirt he wished she
would’ve been lucid enough for him to change, and the reddened bruising on her thigh just
beneath the cut off of her shirt.

He’d once again he found himself in a state he rarely experienced before her—contemplation.

Except it didn’t involve guilt. That was particularly useless to him, even moreso in the midst
of something so perfect.
Bending her over his desk was undoubtedly the best fuck of his entire life, and seeing her
brokenly cling at his feet was nothing short of true fulfillment.

The memory replayed in his mind, as vivid now as it was when it happened. The way he
leaned close, lips brushing against her ear as he murmured the truth of her existence—the
only life she had left was with him.

She was far too distraught to notice the smile that crept over his face, his dark satisfaction
blooming with every sob that racked her body.

He couldn’t bring himself to guilt even if he tried, especially if it meant seeing her like that.

Terribly despondent and helpless, almost betrayed— but still looking to him to fix it. Not
because she wanted him, but because he was the only one who could stop it.

He set his jaw and let the memory fade, knowing the recollection would only bring entirely
different feelings he couldn’t exactly divulge in.

No, he had to let her fully rest.

The trance of her detachment after everything was stronger than he’d ever seen it before,
enough to make him give what he previously held over her head.

Food, her medication, and something to focus on that wasn’t her own ruminating thoughts.

Which was fine, mostly.

He preferred not to go back on his word at all, unconsciously shifting in his seat upon
realizing it was yet another rare occurrence for him, prompted by her.

The leniency was rationalized with the obvious fact that she did need to eat—and there
wasn’t exactly a safe way to have her stop taking her antidepressants so abruptly.

At some point he planned on dedicating time to researching the best way to wean her off of
them, but as of now it hardly registered.

His main focus was her current state, solely fixated on the layer of despondency beneath her
otherwise perfect despair.

He recalled the robotic movement and replies that lingered long after he pulled out of her, the
far too distant look in her eyes making him try more than once to pull her mind back to earth.

And she was back on earth, that much he did know. That adorably small and broken voice
asking him to stay proved she was grounded enough to not want to be alone.

But it wasn’t just a matter of how she was doing physically—what gnawed at him was having
no idea how far he might have actually pushed her.

He hated not knowing.

Was she on the verge of falling? Did she let go and hit the ground completely? Had she even
approached the edge at all?

That last thought was wishful thinking.

He sighed inaudibly and got his bearings, analyzing the facts in front of him. She was in his
basement, in his home. The only reason she wasn’t currently bound or being used for his
pleasure was at his own discretion— a choice he made just before she drifted off, and could
change at any moment.

But the basement suddenly felt smaller, and the air too still.

He moved before his mind could catch up, making him stand a bit too quickly. He glanced
over his shoulder as the chair slightly creaked, carefully eyeing her to make sure she hadn’t
stirred.

She didn’t. Her breathing was soft and steady, knees nearly pulled to her chest as she lay
curled in on herself. Her brows furrowed slightly, like she wasn’t able to truly find the rest
she was looking for even in sleep.

He reached for the stand carefully, his unconscious desire for order drawing him to tidy it.

Her half capped medication, the half eaten bowl of pasta, the handcuffs, the book he’d given
her, a now near empty bottle of water—most of which he couldn’t fully clean up without
leaving and waking her entirely.

Instead he nudged the bowl further away from the edge, stacking the handcuffs neatly on the
book before sliding it aside.

He tucked away her medication and the water before walking towards the bathroom, satisfied
he was able to get rid of the clutter—even a small amount.

The water was carelessly tossed into the trash as he reached for her medication, easily
securing the lid before tossing the bottle into the furthest part of one of the drawers.

If he was going to start giving it to her daily until he found a better time to stop it, it might as
well be easily accessible to him in a place she couldn't access unless she was being
supervised—and somewhere well hidden.

He rolled up his sleeves before heading back, briefly glancing over his appearance.

Sharp. Seamless. In control. Always.

He stepped back into the basement at ease, finding her laying in the same perfectly still
position as he approached her, deep into whatever dream she was having— if any.

He moved to take his seat across from her, fully prepared to wait for her to wake up in her
own time.

That’s what he expected, especially after their morning together.

But she always had a way of surprising him.

She jolted awake with a frightened inhale the moment his shadow fell across her face,
shooting up in panic as her chest heaved too fast for her to keep up with.

Her fingers gripped the sheets in a desperate bid to ground herself, small gasps escaping her
lips.

Yet another change of plan.

But if it meant being around her, he would never truly complain.

____

One moment she was falling and free—outside of the basement— and in the next, she was
here.

Her chest heaved faster than she could manage, eyes scanning over her surroundings as she
was begrudgingly forced back to reality.

Four days was all it took for everything to become familiar.

The bed. The couch. The stairs. The camera above her that’s never been turned on.

Him.

A quick glance from her peripheral vision showed that he kept his word, sharp eyes scanning
over her entire body with a small tilt of his head.

She pursed her parted lips together and willed her heart rate to slow down, still just as uneasy
with being the center of his gaze as she was days ago.

Waking up in the basement was always heavy. As the days passed it had only grown heavier,
more profound— but today was different.

Today she found herself wishing she could fully suffocate under the weight of it.

Soon.

She reminded herself that she wouldn’t have to deal with any of this much longer. She was
determined to come up with something, anything to take her life eventually— and she was
going to be sure he’d be too late to stop her.

The thought of only having to endure this life for a little while longer made her less tense,
fingers slowly loosening their frightened hold on the sheets.

She didn’t look at him or speak, memories of the torment in his office slowly resurfacing.
The ache in her core was still prominent, her belted skin only burning slightly less than it did
before.

Her head still thrummed and pulsed from where her hair was pulled, and her hips dully ached
from where his nails dug into her skin as he railed her over his desk.

But none of it compared to the words he said.

She stopped the memories as soon as they started, refusing to let herself think about it.

The space between them was still, almost with an air of uncertainty— but she had no
intentions of breaking the silence.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at the bed underneath her, acutely aware
that he was watching her.

Waiting, wondering, assessing.

He broke the silence first, satisfied with whatever observations he’d made.

“You should be asleep sweet girl.”

She refused to look at him, but the weight of his silence made it clear. Ignoring him never
really was the right choice.

But it didn’t matter to her like it did before. Maybe he’d become angry enough to strike her
with enough force for her to not wake up, ever again.

Wishful thinking.

He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, his voice going softer than before.

“If you’re not going to sleep, we should get you into the bath.”

She dug her fingers into the skin of her arms a little deeper, her breath hitching at the thought
of him touching her again today—gentle or not.

“Or—“ He offered when she didn’t respond.

“You can shower by yourself.”

Her eyes finally met his gaze, pondering why he was still being—at least, his own version of
it—nice to her.

She believed his words now. Every cruelty, every quiet reminder of her worthlessness, every
taunting statement that she was hardly anything more than a burden.

It wasn’t a damage he could fix, and she didn’t want him to.

Her chest lit with a rare spark of satisfaction as she imagined his reaction to finding her long
gone.
Leaving him as the one to feel anguished for once was a final goodbye she would be more
than happy to leave behind.

Her eyes diverted from his as if he could read her thoughts, giving his offer a slight nod in
response.

She did want to get clean, and doing it alone was a far better option.

He studied her for a moment longer before rising, waiting for her to follow.

She took a small breath and forced herself to move, surprised at how shaky she still was.

With a slight wince she was on her feet, arms wrapped around herself as she followed him
into the bathroom.

He moved with silent expectation, turning the water to a decent temperature before grabbing
a towel and soap to place on the counter.

She didn’t wait for him to tell her what to do.

The soiled shirt lay discarded on the counter as she stepped into the water, the warmth
soothing aches she had yet to discover herself.

She wondered if she’d miss something as simple as this once she was gone. If she’d end up in
a place where she’d even have the capacity to miss anything at all.

The warmth of water droplets sliding over her skin, the feel of bubbles lathering, the simple
act of taking care of her body.

It was making her feel alive, too alive— more than she ever wanted to feel again.

She didn’t realize how frozen she stood until she heard him move, snapping her out of her
daze.

Her hands found the soap again as she watched him briefly step out to grab another one of his
folded shirts from a cupboard, still within eyesight of her and the open bathroom door.

He walked back in and set the shirt on the counter, arms folding over his chest as he waited
for her to finish.

The simple fact that his spare clothing was down there, let alone neatly folded— made her
stomach lurch.

He clearly decided, wanted, and planned on keeping her for a long time.

But she wouldn’t let it matter the way it once had. Not for much longer.

She showered in silence for a few minutes, heart rate picking up when she noticed his gaze
lingering, her body only half covered by the shower curtain.
He offered the towel to her as soon as she stepped out, and the shirt followed.

These were the moments she wouldn’t miss.

Her skin was only half dry as she pulled his shirt over her head, complete exhaustion finally
finding her again.

“You’re tired.” He observed.

Her gaze was downcast, movements slowed as she wrapped her arms around herself.

He was right, but tired was an understatement. More than anything, she was heavy. She didn’t
feel even slightly like herself, or the person she was just a day before.

All she could do was blink, force herself to move, and take breaths that she didn’t even want.

She was just a breathing body as she stood before him—a ghost of the whoever she used to
be.

“Then let’s get you to bed.”

“And this time—“ He tilted her chin up to look at him, his eyes scanning slowly over her
face. “You’ll actually stay asleep.”

She nodded slowly in agreement, even if there was a dull curiosity as to how he could
possibly claim to care about her rest, after every hell he put her through.

He let her chin go after being satisfied with her response, her arms folding tighter over herself
as she followed him back to the bed.

She winced out of his sight as she sat down, his inquisitive eyes finding her own.

“Do you want me to stay?”

The presence of another person in her current state kept her a few paces away from what felt
like pure insanity, even if he was the last person she wanted to be there.

But if she wanted him to trust that she was “okay” again, to be comfortable enough to not
watch her every move until she could figure out something solid enough to—

“I’m fine.”

It was the first time she’d spoken in hours, her voice coming out small and distant.

For a moment she thought he would ignore her words and stay anyway. But he reached for
the handcuffs instead, pulling her wrist until it was close enough to secure to the headboard.

He picked up her other wrist and held it out in front of him, peering at the bandage
intentionally.

“I’ll change this when you wake up.”

She let her arm fall back to her side without acknowledging him.

From what she could see from the impossibly tiny window it was now evening, purple
warmth fading as the sun set, the floor of the basement gradually darkening.

Her breath hitched as he reached for her chin, rubbing his thumb over her jaw in thought.

“Get some sleep sweet girl.”

Silence took the space between them again as he turned to leave, grabbing the bowl from the
stand.

She tugged at the handcuff, but it didn’t budge. She pulled at it again, slower this time, until
the strain in her wrist grew to a sharp ache.

Eventually she gave up, sinking back with tired defeat.

Pain and exhaustion weighed her down, dragging her further towards sleep. Her body rested
before her mind did, her last thought a quiet assurance—that she would come up with
something.

Somehow, she would carry out her plans.

___

Sleep came to him more easily than he thought it would.

He woke up considerably well before he had to start working, standing at the kitchen counter
as he looked over his schedule for the day.

A few one on one meetings, a full report on analytical trends to analyze, the continuation of
several reports he was in the process of writing and compiling himself.

It shouldn’t have taken too much of his time away from her, for which he was grateful.

It was officially five days in, and things were arguably perfect.

He wouldn’t trade this life with her for anything, and from the moment she woke up in his
basement—terrified, trembling, confused— he knew this was it for him.

Truly, he’d known all along. For years he knew what he wanted. With her he had found more,
a complete sense of fulfillment he’d only ever dreamed of.
Her detachment from the previous day was still on his mind, though considerably less than it
was the day before.

She didn’t want him to stay through the night, which was a good sign. It didn’t upset him—
he just took it for what it was.

She was okay enough to be alone again.

He might have to be a little less rough if he fucked her at some point today, back off from the
amount of degrading that turned him on the most to use, avoid hitting her if it wasn’t directly
warranted— but so far her recovery from the time in his office was going quite smoothly.

She wasn’t completely broken, not yet.

He reached to take a sip of his coffee and checked the time, turning his attention to his other
responsibilities before tackling an inevitably long work day.

The first aid kit sat on his kitchen counter, all of the supplies needed to change her bandages
accounted for.

He moved to prepare her some sort of breakfast, deciding on something light enough for her
stomach not to reject it.

Besides the fact that she needed it to survive, he considered the only real use for feeding to
be a way to butter her up enough for him to do whatever he wanted.

Today’s reason was just that, and she was likely down there fast asleep, innocently unaware
of his intentions for their day together.

He smiled at how naive she was as he stirred the pot, spooning her food into a bowl before
making sure everything else was organized for his return.

Oatmeal, banana, water.

She’d be thankful for it, he knew, even if she visibly hated accepting things from him.

He let out a sigh of satisfaction as he dropped the pot in the sink, his contemplation taking a
different turn as he stared at the morning sky through the window.

Five days with her. His terribly anxious, too entrancing for her own good, sweet girl—his
pretty little thing.

He nearly laughed as his mug rose to his lips, the pride in his chest making him feel as if he’d
just made some sort of toast.

Five days in.

And here was to many, many more.

____
Her breakfast sat evenly on his arm as he clicked the lock shut behind him, descending the
basement stairs with measured balance.

He’d never get tired of seeing her first thing in the morning.

Each time he was greeted with a tense, slightly shaky frame, her innate fear of him only
seeming to grow even in his absence.

Now was no different, her legs pulled in close as she sat curled at the top of the bed, the
furthest away from him she could possibly get.

He didn’t speak right away, setting everything besides her breakfast down before sitting
down across from her.

“Good morning sweet girl.”

He passed her the warm bowl and waited for her reaction, movements slowed as she peered
into the bowl and avoided his gaze.

She took it after a second, likely thinking it was too early to put up a fight.

“How did you sleep?”

She barely stirred her food and took a deep breath, finally gathering enough courage to look
up at him.

“Okay.” she murmured just above a whisper.

He eyed her curiously, taking in the way her shoulders slumped, looking down at the bowl as
if stirring it aimlessly was a pre-eating requirement.

His eyes drifted to the book on the stand, untouched and exactly where he’d left it.

“Did you start your book?”

She shook her head after a long moment, fingers tightening around the spoon as she kept
stirring, still avoiding her breakfast.

Her exhaustion was still visible. Maybe she had only just now woken upon hearing the door
open.

“Eat your food.” He instructed without room for argument.

She briefly paused then lifted the spoon to her mouth, swallowing a small bite without tasting
it.

He liked her like this.

Just okay, barely disobedient, with a little less hope than she had the morning before.
But he knew it wouldn’t last forever, and she’d be back to trying her hand at escaping the
basement one day or another.

He played with the thought of fucking her in her current state, the fear that would flicker in
her eyes once he pinned her down, distraught and weakly fighting against him.

He could already picture how helpless she’d look beneath him, the betrayed little look she
gave every time his hand struck her face.

Maybe he’d take her over the bed this time, restraints long discarded as he pinned her face
fully into the mattress, watching her hands tighten in the sheets as she struggled for air.

Her sounds were bound to be different like this, no loud, pleading cries, only the small
whimpers of pain escaping her tear stained lips before he’d—

She passed the bowl back to him, interrupting his thoughts.

It was emptied enough to convince him she’d gotten the energy she needed from it, moving
to place it on the stand before reaching for the first aid kit.

He wordlessly reached for her arm, carefully undoing the bandages from two nights before.

She winced slightly at a quick pull of the medical tape from her skin, making him hide a
small smile as he appreciated her reaction to pain.

After all the times he’d fucked her with no restraint, she still reacted to the slightest bit of
discomfort.

So fucking adorable.

He leaned down to press his lips to the spot he pulled the tape from too quickly, carefully
undoing the rest after pulling away.

Her wound was healing nice and evenly. No signs of infection, no more bleeding.

He put the old bandage to the side and reached for a new one, catching how stiffly she paused
and stared at her bare arm for the first time since she’d done it.

“It’s healing fine if that’s your concern.” He added before reaching for another bandage. “You
did a good job sweet girl.”

She barely let out a breath as he cleaned and re-wrapped her arm, the bandage good as new
and ready to go.

He regathered everything and left the water and banana for her, moving to undo the handcuffs
quickly.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom before I start working.”

She pushed herself to her feet and walked, her dry lips pursed together with an unknown
emotion as he followed her.

A few silent moments later she was seated on the bed again, her arm already held out in front
of her as she waited to be cuffed back to the headboard.

“I have to work a bit longer today.” He moved to restrain her wrist. “But I’ll be back to check
on you. Read the book. You’ll like it.”

Her brows furrowed imperceptibly, undoubtedly wondering how he could possibly know
what genres she liked. Once liked.

“You’re not that difficult to read sweet girl.” He tucked they key into his pocket and looked
down at her.

He was seconds away from adding that she didn’t have nearly enough depth to be hard to
figure out— but he remembered his owns plan to lay off the degradation.

For now.

And besides, he’d be lying anyway. Each day he learned something new about her, with
every reaction, every cruelty, especially in her short inebriation.

He reached out to tilt up her chin, reminding himself of the reason he was down there.

“One full work day, and I’ll be yours for the rest of the weekend.”

He briefly soaked up her reaction as she shifted with unease, turning to grab the first aid kit
and bowl from where they sat.

All he had to do was make it through one full work day, and he could come back to her.

He always considered himself to love his job. But for the past five days, it was slowly
becoming just a distraction— a steady reminder of where he truly wanted to be.

____

His work was flowing smoothly, every piece of data and set of numbers familiar and routine.

He had made it through a meeting with a project manager, assuring two concerned
stakeholders, and was now working on his own findings.

Nothing that was unusual for him.

He had already checked on her once, unsurprised to find her lying only a few inches away
from where she sat before.
She didn’t stir when he approached her, didn’t respond with anything other than a small
“fine” when he asked how she was doing.

The book still lay untouched, a last ditch effort on her part to not take something provided by
him.

He wouldn’t force her.

Leaving her with her thoughts was something he’d done plenty of times already, and despite
how indifferent she may have wanted to be, it would only serve him in the end.

He wished he could’ve stayed down there and get a rise out of her—taunting, mocking,
fucking her mouth until he spilled the growing stress of his work day down her throat— but
the data that needed to be sifted through was steadily stacking up.

Later. He reminded himself with an audible sigh.

And there he sat hours later, the same numbers and data beginning to jumble together towards
the point of irritation.

It didn’t help that his work space, the very desk he was working on, was almost exactly where
he’d bent her over only one day prior.

Heat pooled in his lower stomach as he stared at the space she brokenly fell to her knees in
front of him, and his cold reply only broke her down even further.

“The sympathy you’re looking for doesn’t exist.”

She slumped forward desperately after hearing that, forehead pressed to his feet as she
sobbed the most perfectly he’d ever seen.

Fuck he wanted her.

He glanced at the time and saw he was only forty-five minutes shy of where he usually
paused his work day.

Good. He could make it.

He was fully prepared to ignore his phone when it rang a few minutes later, but the name of
his friend caught his eye.

He answered the call with a quick tap, shoving away the memory that followed after the last
time he spoke to him on the phone—curious about the combination of melatonin and alcohol.

“Well if it isn’t the new town recluse.”

He huffed a small laugh at his friends humor, shaking his head before turning his pen back to
paper.

“Hardly a recluse.“ He replied evenly. “Just stuck working.”

“I’ve heard that one before.” His friend quipped. “Did you forget about our plans already?”

…Shit.

He had forgotten the plans he agreed to a few days ago, intentionally shoving them off his
back as he deemed it too soon to leave her alone.

It was still too soon to leave her alone.

But if he’d gotten out of plans before, he could do it again.

“Can’t tonight.” He lied easily. “I’ve got too much work to catch up on.”

His response was clipped and to the point, almost the exact same excuse he used the last
time.

“You’re an efficient guy.” His friend tried. “And—you’ve got a whole weekend ahead of you.
You’ll make the time.”

He could make the time, but time wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t about his work—not really.
He just really didn’t want to leave her alone, especially after yesterday’s intensity.

His pen clicked on the table before he leaned back in his chair, a slow, steady movement to
give himself time to think.

He didn’t want to leave her.

“If you know anyone who can finish a gap analysis report before Monday, I’m all ears.”

“Alright, alright.” He could practically see his friend lift his hands in surrender through the
phone. “If you’re so stuck working, we’ll come by instead. Have a few drinks, maybe watch
a game—and you can show us all that home improvement you’re always nerding out about.”

He paused immediately.

The hypothetical of someone showing up to his house made him uneasy.

The reality of it would be even worse.

There would be casual inquiries, insignificant to anyone else but him—questions about
whether or not he ever got around to remodeling any other parts of his house.

He wanted to avoid it all together, but he also knew immediate refusal would be suspicious.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t maintain keeping her the way he wanted to
if he abruptly stopped showing up the way he used to.

He had to leave her.

A heavy sigh nearly escaped his lips but he suppressed it, forcing a typical jest at his friend’s
insistence instead.
“Guess I’ve gone too far off the rails if a doctor’s calling me the nerd.”

“Alright.” He finally agreed. “What time?”

He nodded absently to his reply, already calculating how long he’d have to be away from her.

How quickly he could return.

How much time she’d be left alone.

Not long. He’d do everything he could to make their time apart the shortest it could be.

____

She underestimated how vast the feeling of emptiness could stretch.

Time itself felt distant, slowly slipping by her with waves of indifference. The weight
pressing her into the mattress was a heavy mix of exhaustion and surrender.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he was last down there, looking over her
still figure and asking how she was doing.

Drained. Desperate. Half alive was how she was doing.

But she opted for another lie, the exact same one she’d given before.

Fine.

He seemed satisfied enough with the response, and she didn’t miss the unmistakable glint of
desire in his eyes before he left.

The idea of him touching her that way again made her feel numb.

She wasn’t sure if she had it in her to physically fight him off—the most she could give was
whatever empty instinctual reactions were left in her body.

Her eyes finally drifted away from her fixation on nothing across the room, scanning towards
the book he’d given her.

She hadn’t even bothered to look at the title, still unsure of his true motives behind giving it
to her.

But she couldn’t deny that being left inside her own mind after yesterday was a torment.

The thoughts that looped dragged her further into her mind.

Questioning the realness of her own surroundings wouldn’t be too far behind.
She reached for the book with a tired hand, pushing herself up slowly before placing it into
her lap.

The front of it was smooth and new— a hardcover she would’ve once been happy to find a
place for on her own shelf.

She flipped to a page at random, eyes skimming over the words without actually reading
them.

The book could have just as easily been a dictionary or an instruction guide— it wouldn’t
have mattered.

The letters made sense, but the words didn’t.

She tried to forget the version of herself that used to get lost in stories, absorb every little
detail and forgot about the world, the version of her that used to feel.

Her mind started working again, the words slowly becoming enough to slightly shift her
focus to something else.

That was all that she needed.

Her hand had barely flipped to the eighth page as the door reopened, her bound hand
squeezing around the side of the book involuntarily.

She hardly moved as he approached her, half expecting him to gloat about her finally reading,
but he never did.

Instead he walked towards the bottom of the bed, unexpectedly hoisting himself up on a
nearby piece of furniture before reaching to press a button on the camera—its lens fixated
directly on her.

Her jaw tightened as she folded in on herself further, stewing in the morbid curiosity behind
his actions.

He was back to standing in front of her just as quickly as he climbed, offering an explanation
she didn’t think he would give.

“I have to leave for a while.”

She blinked and sat silently, realizing that he just turned on the camera.

Multiple thoughts raced at once—the unfairness of him openly stating that he was going out
into the world so easily, curiosity as to where he was going, why and for how long— but her
anguish took over immediately.

Her curiosity wouldn’t change anything. She couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control it.

“Okay.” she murmured finally.

He stared down at her for a moment longer before leaning onto the bed, palms flat on either
side of her as his arms caged her in.

“You remember what happens when you try leaving, don’t you?”

Her head met the wall with a faint thud as she pulled away from him, his face pressing
further into her space and giving her nowhere else to look.

The handcuff around her wrist was secured with a tightness that was almost form fitting,
more than enough to keep her in place.

She couldn’t escape before and wouldn't be able to while he was gone, let alone try to carry
out her plans.

His closeness sent a sharp pulse of fear through her chest, making her give a small, almost
too quick nod in agreement.

He visibly appreciated the way she shrunk in on herself before pressing closer, his voice
dropping even lower.

His breath ghosted over her lips.

“Words, sweet girl.”

Her only free hand tightened harder around the book on her lap before she forced herself to
speak.

“Yes.” she almost whispered.

He smirked and nodded once, satisfied with her answer.

“Good.” He murmured low. “Then I won’t have to remind you what happens when you do.”

Her jaw tensed as he closed the distance between them, fingers wrapping around her throat as
he forced her head back enough to leave her skin bared to him.

His lips met her neck with a barely suppressed groan, the sound of his one sided enjoyment
filling the space between them.

Every firm and open mouthed kiss felt like a promise of what was to come, each one hungrier
and more forceful than the last.

She whimpered as his teeth grazed over her pulse point, making him let out a regretful sigh
before pulling away.

“Be good.” He ordered simply. “If you try anything—I’ll know. Let’s not repeat what
happened the last time.”

The memory of her own blood trickling down her lip made her stomach churn.
 He tilted his head as he watched her recall it, subtle satisfaction all over his face.

His hand squeezed over her free wrist, mimicking the same pressure he always used to hold
her down.

Her body stayed glued to the wall when he loosened his hold and turned to leave, heart
fluttering in her chest as the sound of the door closing and locking behind him rang louder
than usual.

She should have been relieved.

But as the sun began to set, the realization that she was alone for the first time in what could
easily be the middle of nowhere— really alone—began to set in too.

She couldn’t tell if him leaving was better or worse.

Chapter End Notes

if you're reading this, i appreciate you <3

see you very soon :)

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 15: Day 5: The Art of Breaking
Chapter Summary

no defiance.

no hope.

no belief that things could get better.

just emptiness.

Chapter Notes

BEFORE READING!

- TW // Suicide Attempt

- Always read the tags, but please look out for yourself as you engage with this chapter.
I myself had to take a small break from writing day five in it's totality— it's also longer
than the other chapters. so please be mindful of your limits or what can trigger you. Your
mental health is very important to me!

________________

that being said, i'm happy you're here. i'm excited to hear your thoughts and share my
own! thank you for still reading, and being on this ride of a story with me.

buckle up, it's truly a wild one

- enjoy :)
 ~ edit : as of 12-08-25, this chapter was slightly edited to place even more focus on
FMC’s mental state.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

His thoughts were everywhere and nowhere as he sat on his knees, staring at the swirl of the
water beneath him.

Nothing would leave him ever again.

Especially not her.

____

For the past five days, the only things he prepared for was an average work day, or his return
to the basement.

That had been his routine—their routine, one he easily slipped into the pattern of.

Getting ready to do anything besides that felt off.

He had already changed his clothes, grabbed his wallet, and made sure the camera stream was
set up perfectly on his phone.

She still sat against the wall as he watched the video feed, her free hand clutching the book
like its words were the only thing keeping her steady.

He wanted to stay.

But he also knew leaving was the logical choice.

If he went out his friends wouldn’t question him, and no one would begin to wonder if
something had changed.

This was necessary. For him, for her.

It would also give him a chance to miss her properly, which would only make finally coming
back to her even better.
He looked over his appearance once more as he passed the hallway mirror, rolling up his
sleeves in another effort to appear casual.

And he was feeling casual—more than anyone in his shoes ever would be.

Yet even as he reached for his keys, the other side of the basement door still lingered in his
mind.

He wasn’t concerned about her doing anything undesirable or finding a way to escape—he
wouldn’t leave if he wasn’t absolutely certain that wasn’t a possibility.

But the reality of actually leaving her there settled in, his steps leading him to the basement
door one more time.

He let out a quiet exhale as he tried the locks, satisfied that they wouldn’t budge.

Good.

At the end of the day, everything in his home was replaceable.

She wasn’t.

____

The air outside of his home felt different.

Sure, he had been outside over the last week—simple, unassuming tasks like checking the
mail or tending to his yard—but now he would be staying out here, longer than he ever had
since he’d taken her.

His thoughts slowly shifted away from home as he pulled out of the driveway, moving to turn
on music he wasn’t actually paying attention to.

He mapped out the rest of the night instead, anticipating an all too typical night of drinks,
catching up, and crappy friendly humor.

He knew it would be good for him—he deserved a break. Taking care of another person
wasn’t easy.

The drive to the bar was thankfully short, a nearby dive bar his friends favored that was
always easy going and more to his liking.

He pulled into the parking spot furthest from the entrance and turned off his car, tightening
his grip on the keys.

He already wanted to check on her.

His phone was out before he could convince himself not to, the brightness dimmed and kept
level with his knee, careful to keep the screen out of sight.

He knew the bar didn’t have nearly enough foot traffic to place cameras in their parking lot—
a similar oversight that also serving him well once before.

Even still he kept it quick, glancing at the footage and finding her in a completely different
position than before.

Curled into a ball with the book now less than a foot away, her newly bandaged arm resting
loosely over her face.

Her chest rose and fell softly, gentle enough for him to barely catch it over the footage.

The darkened blue of the sky around him had just enough left for him to see that nobody was
around his car, but he didn’t want to risk it.

She was fine.

He tucked his phone away just as quickly as he pulled it out.

He glanced at the time on his lock-screen and rubbed a slow hand over his face, a long
enough motion to keep him from catching his friend charging towards his vehicle from clear
across the parking lot.

A loud thud meant to startle him made his head turn steadily, shaking his head at his friend’s
antics before finally stepping out of the car.

“I do expect payment for any damages by the way.”

He slipped into the demeanor his friends expected from him with ease, closing and locking
his car door behind him.

His friend burst into a laugh that hinted they’d already gotten started on drinks, solidified by
the feel of a heavy handed clap over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah—don’t worry, I didn’t damage your half a years salary method of
transportation.”

He took an almost too big step back and looked over the car, his partially inebriated brain
visibly working.

“How much you pay for this anyway?”

He titled his head at his friend’s curiosity with a small smirk, offering a short response before
clapping a hand on his shoulder in return.

“More than you make in half a year’s salary.”

His jest earned him a laugh as they moved towards the front entrance.
“Alright asshole, let’s go. The docs waiting for us inside.”

____

Bars weren’t foreign to him, and neither was this one.

The inside was well lit, crowded but not overwhelming. The usual hum of conversation
buzzed around him, glasses clinked, and the occasional drunken laugh filled the moderately
sized space.

He knew how to navigate any social situations with confidence, and it was consistently
reflected in his demeanor.

But the starkness of being in such a lively environment was there.

He shoved the realization down as he rounded the corner, greeted by the sight of his other
friend sitting not too far away, nursing a glass of pale ale in one hand and holding a pool cue
with the other.

“Well, well—“ His friend stood and briefly pulled him in for a hug. “Thought you bailed out
on us last minute.

He thought about it. He really had.

“Wouldn’t have heard the end of it if I did.”

With that the evening began to easily settle in, the ease of conversation and friendly
conversation taking over.

One of his friends shoved a beer in his hand before adding a quick “don’t forget the rest are
on you tonight”, slinking back to the pool table to finish a game that started before his
arrival.

He scoffed and shook his head as he watched them over the rim of his glass, glad he could
maintain this normalcy outside of his home.

For himself, and for the sake of keeping her.

Before he could let his thoughts drift further, his friend interrupted.

“How’ve you been man? I mean, besides married to the new job of course.”

He turned his gaze to his friend—a dear one, despite his occasional outspokenness—
someone he’s known since college.

They’d gotten into some of the same antics; phases where their schooling wasn’t taken as
seriously, unbothered carelessness in the way they treated the girls in their lives (even if a
steady relationship was rare for him) and that similar, headstrong attitude the three of them
carried through the world.

There was one point in school where he considered himself and his friends to be too similar
to one another, but quickly learned the opposite.

There wasn’t very many men quite like himself.

But those days were long gone. None of them were immature or irresponsible anymore, and
they all took different paths in life.

His friend left the corporate world early on and settled into accounting for his sister’s
business instead, leaving his closest friend to become the entire reason he was dragged out
tonight—the doctor.

Their friendship always intrigued him, a bond with an easy going yet hardworking man who
specialized in Family Practice, and liked to pretend he wasn’t still head over heels for the
wife he met right after college.

He himself had grown complete in his own way alongside his friends—steady, confident,
successful, and if you were to let his friends tell it, “married to his job.”

“Good.” He responded evenly. “Nothing new but the work load.”

The doctor briefly glanced at him, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction around the
cue in his hand.

“Don't believe him.” He shook his head before turning to their other friend. “This man calls
me middle of the week, says he couldn’t get to sleep and took melatonin, forgot about it then
had a drink. He’s not sleeping for shit.”

“You not getting enough sleep in the middle of a work week?” The accountant looked
incredulous. “The man who structures his days down to the second? Must be a cold day in
hell.”

The doctor smirked at what he started, taking a swig of his own drink before taking his turn.

He shook his head at his friends, glad the suspicions were kept to something as small as
whether or not his work kept him from getting a full eight hours.

“I sleep.” He returned with an edge of fake defense, an easy smile crossing his face. “And I
work. Harder than the man who calls out of work for a little bit of rain.”

He glanced away from the doctor, his other friend’s hands coming up in defeat.

“A flood.” He corrected with a smirk, knowing it was true. “But alright—I’ll lay off
analyzing your self-care patterns for now.”

___
Her thoughts felt distant, chest steadily rising and falling in the midst of nothing.

The basement air was always still.

But right now it was quieter, mind numbing, left with the weight of his absence.

He’d left her before, she knew that.

She had spent days measuring every sound, every shift in the air, every vague movement that
could sometimes be heard from above.

But this silence wasn’t like when he went upstairs, leaving her awake as he slept through the
night.

It was eerie, wrapped around her like a layer of unease she hadn’t experienced before.

She wished she had a sense of time.

She couldn’t tell how long it’d been since he left. Twenty minutes. An hour. Two.

Wishing.

That was an odd concept.

Yearning for something you could never have, daydreaming about the way things could be.

Her eyes skimmed towards the top of the stairs, pondering the reality of it all.

Sometimes it felt like a dream, other times it felt like hell.

Even after all this time, the reality of being held captive wasn’t something she’d gotten used
to.

Her body reminded her of the terror with every ache, every dream, every sharp intake of
breath each time the door opened.

Being touched by him wasn’t something she’d gotten used to.

Every kiss, every perverted attempt at comfort, every thrust forceful enough to make it seem
like she was an item instead of a human being.

It had all become a forced reality, something she’d rather die than see become just another
familiar moment in her sad existence.

She was tired, but she couldn’t have slept if she tried.

There was enough light to see the pages of the book he’d given her, but her thoughts diverted
far away from them, landing on the same single track of rumination.
Soon she’d be gone.

And it wouldn’t matter if there was a hell.

She was already living it.

____

The night was moving forward.

His friends went on about their lives, playfully teased him about how structured he kept his
own, and roped him into their usual competitive rounds of pool.

He couldn’t help but notice a measured awareness in his own movements, as if something
was missing.

It wasn’t visible to anyone else, but he felt it just the same.

She wasn’t there.

His watch greeted him with a realization that grated him further—he’d only been there an
hour.

He let out an imperceptible sigh and clenched his jaw, glancing over the green felt of the
table before taking his next shot.

It sunk easily, making the accountant gripe about “cheating” as if that was something he
knew how to do.

Their rambles continued when a girls voice suddenly shouted excitedly in his direction,
familiar and entirely unfamiliar all at once.

“Oh my god!”

It took him a split second to recall where exactly he knew it from, but his suspicions were
quickly confirmed as soon as he turned.

The intern from his job.

The same girl who shamelessly flirted with him after a meeting just one day prior, always
laughed a bit too hard at all of his jokes, and outwardly asked to keep in contact with him
now that her term with the company was over.

But now she was here, in person— the last person he wanted to deal with right now.

“Funny seeing you here!” She held onto a cocktail as she twirled a strand of hair around her
fingers, biting her lip at him before taking a step forward. “What a small world.”

Entirely too small.

His expression didn’t shift, posture staying steady as he already planned how to wrap up the
conversation.

She didn’t take his beat of silence as a hint, visibly raking her eyes over him before speaking
again.

“Special occasion tonight?”

Her dress was unmistakably short and form fitting, paired with a tipsy smile that starkly
contrasted the emotions he had gotten used to receiving in the basement, the ones he actually
craved.

“Just a night out.” He said evenly.

She waited for him to ask what her special occasion was, offering the information freely
when it became clear he wasn’t curious.

“I’m celebrating my internship finally being over! Longest weeks of my life. I don’t know
how you do it everyday.”

He forced himself to not vocalize his disinterest, letting it show on his face instead.

“Well I’ll let you back to it. Have a good night.”

He turned back to his friends before she could reply, bracing for the inevitable questions from
his friends.

“That the reason you’ve been so busy?” The doctor teased with the last sip of a drink.

“Absolutely not.” He cut in before he could finish, chalking his cue before setting it down.
“Just an intern who’s never been told no in her entire life.”

“You seein’ this shit?” The accountant chimed in with a laugh. “Works from home and he’s
still got girls throwing themselves at him.”

Maybe that was true.

He hadn’t missed the women throwing wide eyed lingering glances his way in the short time
he’d been there—none of which were anything like the girl he actually wanted.

But in order to get back to her, keeping up appearances was important.

That was the point, the entire reason he was here.

“Another round?”

His friends happily agreed, turning to start a conversation about nothing as he navigated his
way towards the bar.
The sip of a new drink eased the faint tension in his chest, reaching for his wallet as he
waited for the bartender to pour his friend’s drinks.

He sat at the least people dense side of the countertop as he waited, watching the bartender
stack glasses into the dishwasher.

His fingers tapped idly on the wooden counter as he waited, eyes sweeping the room without
any real interest.

The walls were littered with shelves of liquor bottles and sweeteners, posted local
advertisements, old event papers and… her.

His exhaled imperceptibly as he processed what he was looking at, his breath low and
controlled.

MISSING: LAST SEEN FIVE DAYS AGO

A cropped photo beneath bold red lettering above a list of details— and an image of a girl
with an almost too bright smile, looking at the camera without a care in the world.

The picture wasn’t recent.

It was too polished, too put-together, taken in a version of her life that didn’t exist anymore.

The girl in that photo looked softer, lighter, untouched by the last five days of her life.

He noticed the bartender follow his gaze, moving to approach him as he strung a towel over
his shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait, gotta clean more glasses. Busser isn’t too good at rounding up the dirty
ones quick enough.”

“No problem.” He turned his attention back to his drink, taking a sip before placing it down
on the coaster.

“Crazy right?” The bartender gestured to the photo. “Been missing five days and—nothing.”

Of course there was nothing. He’d done a lot of work to make sure it was and would remain
nothing.

His reply was even as usual, unassuming and uninvolved.

“Maniac on the loose?”

“Nah.” The bartender laughed and shook his head. The bar owners brother owns a home
improvement store one town over, said she was an employee there for a while. Gave his
bother some fliers to put up over here.”

Small world indeed.

He watched the bartender look at the poster and shake his head, visibly crestfallen that the
world could be just so cruel to not give us answers.

It was obvious the bartender didn’t assume the man in front of him was the culprit, making
him curious enough to see what he knew.

“What do you think happened?” He threw into the conversation.

The bartender leaned against the counter and shrugged in thought, coming up with a list of
possibilities.

“I don’t think it’s a maniac as you put it—I don’t think we got anything to worry about.
We’re both relatively smaller towns, and that stuff only really happens in the movies.”

He wouldn’t bother correcting him.

“But I dunno… pretty girl like that? She’s young. Looks lively. Probably happily ran off with
a boyfriend and doesn't plan on looking back.”

His grip on his glass tightened just slightly.

“You’re probably right.” He nodded with his own fake consideration.

“But between us?” The bartender lowered his voice a fraction, moving to place his hands flat
on the counter in front of him.

“I heard the owners talking about her when they put the flier up. Said she was always off—
distant in the couple months before she disappeared. Like sad, you know? He mentioned
changing her work position so she didn’t have to work directly with the customers. Guess the
parents are still looking for her too but I think—if that was true and she is ever found… it
probably won’t be alive.”

His fingers tightened around his knee under the table, his facial expression maintaining fake
deep thought.

He knew she was fine.

She wasn’t going anywhere. He had made sure of that.

But the thought of her dead— that sat in his chest like something foreign.

She wasn’t missing. She wasn’t lost. She was alive, and she was fine.

They had no idea.

But his stomach still curled at the thought of her gone, pressing into his chest like ice.

It wasn’t the poster.

It wasn’t the bartenders incorrect assumption that she killed herself.

Not really.

It was the fact that he was sitting here, and she was somewhere else entirely.

Five days.

He had spent five days with her, shaping her, watching her fall apart and putting her back
together exactly how he wanted. She had been under him, cried for him, bled for him,
breathed for him, and was his for every single moment.

And now?

Now she was alone, with no one watching her, no one to keep the mind she wasn’t even
strong enough to control in check.

He had to go home soon.

He needed to see her.

His face remained neutral, nowhere near cluing the bartender in as to what was going on in
his head.

“Wow.” He shook his head with fake fraught. “That’s heavy stuff.”

“No kidding.” The bartenders tone returned to normal. “And can you imagine how the
parents must be doing? Not knowing what happened has gotta be worse than just losing her.
And nobody really knows a single thing with these missing person cases. Not law
enforcement, not the store—it’s crazy.”

Good.

The loud beep of the dishwasher made the bartender shake himself of the conversation and
remember he was working, tapping a hand on the counter in front of him.

“Sorry I got all dark on you man, I’m a bit of a true crime buff. I’ll get you those drinks
now.”

“No problem.” He shrugged as if it didn’t directly involve him. “It’s fascinating stuff.”

He reached for his wallet and dropped the money on the bar top, already planning a
believable excuse to leave within the hour.

The girl on the poster was someone else’s problem, someone else’s memory to mourn.

But the girl in his basement?

She was his.

___
His friends found themselves in another game of pool as he approached with their drinks, not
giving it a second thought when he excused himself to the bathroom.

He made sure the few stalls lining the tiled walls were empty before slinking into one of
them, his back pressed to the wall as he reached for his phone.

His fingers slightly tightened around it until the footage loaded on the dim screen, the loading
circle chipping away at his patience with every passing second.

It loaded quickly, showing the girl he had come to know, sitting up and reading with her
knees pressed together.

Seeing her slowly reach to turn the page made some of the tension in his body dissipate,
allowing himself only a few more seconds before returning his phone back to his pocket.

She was fine.

He sighed and used the bathroom, exiting the stall to wash his hands before heading back.

The door opened as he rinsed the cheap soap from his hands, not bothering to see who it
was.

He expected a stranger, maybe one of his friends— but someone had other plans entirely.

The intern walked in and stood not too far from him, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her
ear before speaking.

“Sorry if I crashed your party earlier, didn’t expect to see you here.”

He carried on as if she wasn’t there, moving to turn off the water.

“Neither did I.” He said flatly, making it clear her presence had no effect on him. “Doesn’t
change anything.”

It really didn’t. All her presence did was make his friends joke around, the same way they
had been all night.

“Well… you know what has changed?” She smirked and innocently tucked her hands behind
her back. “We’re technically not coworkers anymore.”

He reached for a paper towel silently, not bothering to acknowledge the obvious.

She leaned back and forth on her heels and bit her lip, clearly more inebriated than she was
before and contemplating whether or not she should follow through on whatever reason she
followed him into the bathroom for.

“You should kiss me.”

There it was.
“And you should be more careful about the random men you follow into the bathroom.” He
said flatly as he dried his hands, quickly shooting down her advance.

She pouted at his words, determined not to give up just yet. “Well maybeee, I’m just drunk
and was tired of being a straight edge all throughout that internship.”

He watched as she began walking towards him, the slight imbalance in her steps reminding
him of the girl who currently awaited on his return.

He didn’t have time for this.

“And…maybe I want to do something spontaneous for once.”

He sincerely couldn’t figure out what that had to do with him, turning to toss the paper towel
on top of the already overflowing trashcan.

“And you assumed I’m a good choice for that?”

“Well… you deserve a break too, don’t you think? All those long hours working, being the
smartest in every meeting, everyone in the company looking to you for your opinions.… it
must get exhausting, doesn’t it?”

He could smell the alcohol on her, prompting her failed attempt at a drunken school girl
seduction further.

“You’re insanely hot, you know that? n’ you’re smart, well liked… you don’t work in person,
but I saw it. That marketing managers got a big crush on you. Overheard her talking about
how much she admires your work one day. And your looks…”

She took another small step towards him.

“...the way you carry yourself. I can’t blame her. But unlike most of those dull women in that
company, I don’t kiss and tell. I’d lose out on those intern credits if anything bad ever came
up so…. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you fucked me in that stall over there.”

His posture remained steady and uninvolved, setting his jaw as the brashness of her words
settled.

She was bold, desperate for his attention— the exact opposite of the girl he’d much rather be
with right now.

It wasn’t her standing in front of him, nervously fumbling her fingers together as she did
when they first met.

It wasn’t her looking him in the eyes, voice taking on a sharper edge as she insisted that she
hated him, more than she’s ever hated anything before.

It wasn’t her, scared and desperate, falling to her knees as she broke for him so sweetly, in a
way that only she could.
That’s where he wanted to be.

He made a move for the door without an acknowledgment, only a few feet away from leaving
before she spoke again.

“W-wait, is it because you’re not single? You don’t have a girlfriend, do you? At least— I’m
assuming you don’t. She’d have to be dumb to let you out of her sight for more than ten
minutes.”

A flicker of rage and protection pulsed through him, dangerously intense for someone who
was making a comment about a girl she knew nothing about, and didn’t know existed.

It didn’t stop the spark of anger that rose in his chest, steady and familiar.

He wasn’t dumb enough to act on it, knowing full well where his level of rage could get him.

Scattered bruises, tears, unadulterated fear.

He wouldn’t share that with the girl in front of him, or with anyone else.

But he would make sure he’d never have to deal with her advances ever again.

“You wanted my advice yesterday.” He glared down at her and took a step forward, his
posture imposing enough to make the girl in his basement whimper before he even did
anything.

“Don’t go around throwing yourself at your coworkers, past or present. Don’t piss off the
man who for works for the company that just signed off on your internship— especially when
that man is well liked.”

She almost cowered under his gaze, going silent for the first time in the limited span he
barely knew her for.

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

She spoke one more time as he stepped into the dimly lit hall, barely hiding the concern in
her words.

“Wait— can we just… go our separate ways and forget this ever happened? Even if you came
onto me… I can’t have anything bad come out about this internship. My parents paid for
everything so can we just… forget about it? Please?”

He gave her one last glance, dead tired of anything keeping him from going home.

No, he wouldn’t actually tell his job. He didn’t care enough to recount a story involving a
person he cared nothing about.

He just needed her to know that whatever seduction tactics worked for her before wouldn't
work with him—and he’d done that successfully.
His response was final and honest, the most he’d been the entire night.

“There’s nothing to remember.”

____

Leaving the bar was sudden, but easier than he thought it would be.

His friends griped that it had only been just over an hour since he got there and that they
didn’t get to beat him in pool properly—which only meant they hadn’t gotten the chance to
start betting.

He huffed and tucked his wallet away, feigning annoyance at having to leave.

“Guess I should think twice the next time I tell project sponsors with an affinity for
monumental last minute changes that they can call me anytime. I’ll make it up to you guys.”

He paid for another round to make up for his absence, keeping his goodbyes brief and to the
point.

The sun was fully set as he drove, streetlights passing over his car in intervals.

He wasn’t driving recklessly or speeding, but he did press the gas a little harder than usual.

Every mile closer eased the tension in his chest.

His mind was finally able to solely focus on what mattered now, what truly mattered.

The girl in his basement wasn’t just “the girl in his basement” to him—she never was.

She was always more. The object of his desires, a symbol of his own control, and
exceedingly more than everything he’d ever wanted.

He thought that leaving would remind him of life outside of her.

And it did, but it also reproved to him what he always knew—that nothing out here deserved
his time.

Nothing out here belonged to him, not the way she did.

The moment he pulled back into his driveway, the tension smoothed out completely.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a text from his friend lighting up the screen.

“Thanks for coming out tonight man, it was good to catch up. Sorry you got caught up with
some bs with work. But drinks still on you next time you find time to hang out”

He almost laughed as he turned off his car, not wasting anymore time before getting out.

Leaving had served its purpose.

He was unsuspecting enough for his friends to assume nothing had changed, for a bartender
to be comfortable enough to share theories on what was they didn’t know was his, and for a
girl who visibly had no clue about the man he really was attempt to throw herself his way.

Nobody suspected a single thing.

He walked up the path to his house, staring at the sizable estate in front of him.

She was in there.

Sad. Waiting. Uncertain. His.

He was determined to remind her of that after their time apart—determined to make her feel
it—so the last bit of self control he had would go towards one only thing.

Not pushing her too far, too soon.

But he also knew himself as well as he knew her. The moment he got his hands on her, that
wouldn’t last for long.

____

Time expanded, slowed, and passed her by all at once.

She was nearly halfway through the book he’d given her, just enough of a distraction to keep
her mind a few thoughts away from where it wanted to go.

But the dejection of isolation still seeped into her bones, making her attuned to the smallest
changes in the air.

Every so often something creaked, subconsciously startling her within the same second she
heard it.

She breathed out a small huff of air as it happened for the sixth time that night, muscles going
tense as she swallowed and curled her fingers tighter around the book.

Even though she’d already gotten used to hearing noise in the house above, her mind wasn’t
able to stop bracing itself.

The faintest sounds. The occasional thud of something being closed.

It was familiar, expected, a reminder of life outside of her— but now there was nothing.

Until there wasn’t.

Her body reacted to the even sound of footsteps first, immediately flushing her nervous
system with dread.
The soft scrape of metal against metal made her breath hitch, heart thumping with the
anticipation of the inevitable.

A heavy click.

An open door.

Slammed shut with purpose.

Her heart dropped immediately.

He hadn’t even looked at her yet, but she could tell his attention was on her immediately—
all of it.

It usually was.

But today he looked dangerously determined.

There wasn’t any visible control in the way he carried himself now.

Just possession. Desire. Hunger.

She instinctively moved towards the corner of the bed as he approached her, naively hoping
he’d only give his usual greeting, or take her restraints off to let her use the bathroom.

Instead he pulled the book from her grasp unceremoniously, eyes sweeping over her before
carelessly tossing it onto the stand without a second thought.

She was too rigid with fear to look away from him as he leaned down, quickly crashing his
lips into hers.

A small whimper of fear escaped her mouth before his hand lifted to her hair and pulled hard,
the other coming up to wrap forcefully around her jaw.

It was strong, almost bruising— tight enough to force her lips to open for his.

His tongue pushed into her mouth immediately, the grip on the back of her head giving her no
space to pull away.

Her only free hand tightened in the sheet beneath her, too weak to fight him off and too
scared to try.

He pulled his face just an inch away from hers, tilting his head with a taunting smile.

“Did you miss me sweet girl?”

She couldn’t hold the frightened whine as he leaned back in, tilting her jaw up to kiss her
again.

But it wasn’t a kiss— not like the way he’d done it before.
It was forceful and greedy, one hand starting a rough trail over her as the other stayed firm on
her face.

His hand slipped lower, groping over her chest and squeezing hard enough for her to mewl a
small whimper of pain into his mouth.

He let out a hum of satisfaction and pulled away, moving to sit on the bed before abruptly
dragging her into his lap.

The handcuff clanged on the headboard with the movement, the starkness of a loud noise
adding to the spin in her head.

His mouth met her neck with fever, leaving the same open mouthed kisses over her skin that
he did before leaving.

She tried to pull away but his arm came around her firm, his other hand returning to the
rough palming of her chest.

“All that alone time with nothing to do, no expectations—” He kissed up the soft skin of her
shoulder, his lips easily finding the softest part of her neck.

“You know what I think?” He sucked onto the sensitive skin hard enough to leave a bruise,
making her jolt in his lap.

“I think you did miss me.”

Her jaw tightened as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a regretful reminder that she was
still alive enough to experience it.

She wanted to tell him that she didn’t miss him.

That total isolation didn’t mean she craved him or his presence—she just didn’t want to
experience it.

She didn’t want to be alone, just as much as she didn’t want what their time apart meant once
he inevitably returned.

He huffed a soft laugh in her ear, lips curling into a small smile as he taunted her.

“I don’t need you to admit it sweet girl. I can feel how much you missed me.”

His voice lowered slightly, the hand that wasn’t pressing her flush against him sliding further
down her body.

“I just need you to open up for me.”

He didn’t leave her wondering what that meant as his hand slipped between her legs, fingers
easily finding her clit.
She tried to close her legs immediately, the same cold rush of panic before he forced himself
onto her shooting throughout her entire body.

“No please—“ she tried, her desperate pleas getting nowhere before he interrupted.

He forced a hand to her thigh, grip landing just as hard as his single threat.

“Don’t.”

Her resistance dissolved just enough for him to continue moving, his heavy sigh of
satisfaction sounding in the barely there space between them.

She wished there would’ve been a way to end this before he got there—all of it.

The sudden contact she had after isolation made her too aware of how this felt, forcing her to
be grounded in a way she desperately didn’t want to be.

His hands groped back over her chest, over her bare skin and between her legs, making her
tears finally spill over.

Everything he did was forced and perverted, but this position felt overwhelmingly
vulnerable.

She almost found relief in a brief moment he pulled away, only to bring his fingers up to his
mouth and return them between her thighs.

He didn’t give her time to brace herself before he pushed two of fingers inside of her,
tightening his arm around her middle so she couldn’t move.

The sounds they let out were drastic in contrast, his own low curse of satisfaction intertwined
with her choked whine of pain.

“So fucking tight for me,” He murmured as he peered down to watch his fingers forcing her
open. “Even after all those times you’ve taken my cock.”

She yanked uselessly on the handcuff, fidgeting in his lap as she tried to pull away from his
touch.

"Don’t fucking move.” He demanded.

More tears clouded her eyes as his grip became more secure, the panic in her chest coiling
tighter.

“Please stop,” she pleaded in a broken whisper.

He shushed her, pressing his lips to her neck again.

“Already crying over two fingers inside you,” He observed with a murmur.

“How are you going to take my cock?”

She knew it was rhetorical, and that was always where this was really heading.

He would force himself to fit inside her like he did every time, listen to her pleas for him to
stop as if they were nothing more than words to get himself off, and pin her down as if she
had the strength of a feather in the wind.

He was violating her, making what little she considered to be left of the word crash down on
her harder.

She tried inching away from his fingers forcing deeper, the ache of the unexpected intrusion
leaving her nothing but the small, strangled sounds forcing their way from her throat.

His fingers curled upward slightly, the angle of it making her cry out sharper.

It wasn’t pleasure but discomfort— spreading in a way that added pressure against the
muscles she was squeezing to control.

He hadn’t asked her if she needed to use the bathroom.

All he did was approach her, press her lips into hers as if he was making up for something,
like having her like this made his world right again.

But nothing for her felt right.

He groaned as he felt her tense around him, pushing deep enough to make her go rigid.

His mouth pressed a kiss to the side of her face as he smiled, not leaving his torment to just
his hands.

“I’m never going to get tired of his perfect little cunt.” His words came out hot against her
skin, just as vulgar as they were even.

“You’re going to feel me, all of me, right here—“ His fingers curled inside her a little higher,
a little harder— “For the rest of the week.”

The discomfort between her legs grew as she sobbed, weakening her resolve with every
painful thrust.

Her free hand tightened around the muscles flexing in his forearm, not nearly enough to pull
him off.

She had to use the bathroom.

He was too visibly wrapped up in her to notice, too involved to even register it as something
she’d need to do as a person.

And then, something snapped.

She didn’t know what it was at first, not until she dared to look down.
His fingers stilled as an unfamiliar wetness pooled between her thighs, spilling over his hand
and onto the sheets beneath her.

She didn’t have to use the bathroom anymore—but she was mortified.

He processed it for a few seconds, moving to pull his fingers away as his free hand pulled her
to her feet.

She stood frozen in place, unsure of what reaction to expect.

His clean hand rose to her chin as he stood, tilting it up enough for her to look at him.

“You made a mess, sweet girl.” A smug smile crossed his face before he looked down at the
soiled sheets on the bed. “We can pause this for now. Let’s get you into the bath.”

She quickly caught onto the distinction between him offering her a bath instead of a shower.

He undoubtedly planned on touching her as he bathed her, a separate incident of selfish

foreplay she didn’t know if she’d be able withstand.

But she could feel him watching her, the small tilt of his head making her move towards the
bathroom.

Her legs shook with equal parts embarrassment and dulling pain as she walked, wrapping her
arms around herself once she reached the middle of the bathroom.

She waited for instruction and avoided his gaze, eyes downcast towards the ground instead.

He started the bath then moved to the sink, washing his hands as he waited for the tub to fill.

The soap was rinsed away before he spoke again, clearly possessing enough satisfaction at
what just happened for the both of them to share.

A new wave of self-hate rushed over her, filling every hollow space of what just happened
until there was nothing left but the weight of it.

Even if she couldn’t control it, she’d given him yet another thing to taunt her about, another
thing to hold over her head.

Something he’d inevitably smirk about, bring up again and again— all in an effort to make
her feel smaller.

The thought added to what already overwhelmed her, pushing her towards a darkness that
was almost dizzying.

He didn’t notice it, too involved in his own plans of whatever was to come.

“I’ll replace the sheets.” He shook the water from his hands and turned off the faucet, finally
turning to face her.
“Go get in.”

She knew it wasn’t optional.

Her breath shuddered softly, every small step towards the tub feeling heavier than the last.

The movement satisfied him as he turned, leaving to get what she already knew would be one
of his shirts.

Another endless cycle to weigh her down.

Another choice she didn’t have.

She didn’t know what made her pause.

What made her turn around, only to find that he wasn’t there.

What made her suddenly gain the courage to look in the mirror, to really see herself for the
first time since she’d been there.

The girl staring back at her wasn’t her.

She was trapped in a state of permanent fear and pain—the very definition of anguish.

Hollow.

She had known it since yesterday. There was no real fight left in her.

No defiance. No hope. No belief that things could somehow get better.

Maybe it had always been like that before he even brought her here.

Just emptiness.

But seeing herself as she stared in the mirror…the realization wrapped around her, permanent
and inescapable.

There was nothing left to save.

She moved before her own brain caught up, filing through the bathroom cabinets with
enough speed to hurry, and minimal enough sound not to alarm him.

There had to be something there. Anything .

A razor he left behind from a couple days ago, some sort of sharp construction tool he didn’t
put back in a tool box.

It didn’t matter how she did it.

Scissors, a cleaner not meant to be swallowed, something just enough to pierce an artery that
nobody on earth could patch fast enough.
Her mind ran through a list, flipping through the drawer with a lens that only served as a
means to an end.

But she had to be quick.

Her eyes scanned over the endless supplies that were meant for her, toothbrush, bottle of
soap, hair ties—sharp frustration rising as she realized nothing was there.

But she needed this.

She was desperate.

She moved to file through a drawer, her other hand coming up to swipe away tears she didn’t
know existed.

Nothing.

She reached for the next and pulled firmly, hard enough to make a bottle roll to the front of
it.

Her movements stilled, eyes singling in on something she could use.

For the first time since she’d been there, something felt right.

A medicine bottle.

Her medicine bottle.

The antidepressant she had refilled just days before he took her, the highest dose that brand
had to offer— and more than enough for her to get what she needed from it.

Her hands flew to the lid immediately, twisting it off before peering inside.

Nearly full.

A rush of relief washed over her, finding bliss the irony of what was once meant to aid her in
getting better now becoming her demise.

He wouldn't know.

He’d only find her in bed later, long gone and unmoving.

She had to be fast.

He’d been gone less than fifteen seconds, and she knew he wouldn’t leave her unsupervised
for long.

He was still just right around the corner, going through the basement cabinets for a reason
entirely different from her own.

She turned away from the mirror swiftly, feeling no need to look at herself ever again.
This should’ve been harder to do.

There should’ve been more than just a twisted gratitude.

Flashbacks. Regrets. Memories of her friends, her family, her parents. Who she used to be.

But the girl they lost didn’t exist anymore.

There was no reason to think, to pause, to remember all that came before this moment.

If the world had offered her anything, she would still choose this.

She tipped the open bottle into her mouth, savoring the bitter taste on her tongue as the last
she’d ever know.

Swallowing it was harder than she expected. Her throat didn’t cooperate, pills sticking to her
like lead.

She forced a few of them down on her own, moving to turn on the sink and scoop the water
into her mouth as quickly as she could.

Her hand tightened around the bottle as she emptied the remainder into her mouth,
swallowing the rest of the pills with ease.

That was it.

It was over.

Just a few easy movements, and the hell he’d put her through was over.

That’s the outcome she wanted.

She saw it so clearly, so vividly, felt it as if it were real.

But—the world was nothing to her if not cruel.

He returned before she could turn on the sink, movements faltering immediately as he
processed what she was doing.

The air went impossibly still for a moment that seemed to stretch into forever, the silence
between them louder than the rush of the water filling the tub.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

He had taken everything he’d wanted from her in five days. Her choices. Her body. Her
control.

He wasn’t supposed to see this.

Not now.
Not when she was this close.

This was the first good thing to happen to her in days, and she wasn’t going to let him ruin it.

She took advantage of the split second it took him to move, catching him off guard in the
exact same way he’d done to her since the beginning.

He moved within the same second she did, failing to stop her before she reached to take
more.

For her most glorious moment, she almost won.

He moved the fastest she had ever seen, but not before several more pills fell into her mouth.

The bottle was promptly pried from her hand with enough force to make her fingers ache, his
other hand coming to wrap bone-crushingly tight around her arm.

She didn’t give up, and she wouldn’t.

Not on this.

Her hand flew to the bottle he held away from her, reaching for it with enough force to make
his hold on her arm feel like it was close to being pulled from its socket.

She couldn’t feel it.

A sudden burst of energy gave her enough strength to tilt the bottle in his grasp, hitting the
bathroom floor with a loud clatter.

Her desperation to follow through made her reach for what hadn’t spilt, all but throwing
herself to the ground to grab it.

He yanked her up before she could, his free hand wrapping harshly around her jaw as he
tilted her head towards the toilet.

“Spit it out.” He growled.

She continued swallowing around the metallic tasting, painfully slow melting glob of
antidepressant in her mouth, refusing to let him take this from her.

She still had a chance.

He spun her around and pulled her flush against him, hand wrapping impossibly tight around
her neck until she jolted from the lack of oxygen.

“Spit. It. Out.”

His breath was hot and close to her ear, the very thing she was trying to escape.

She wouldn’t listen to him.

But her body—the one she hated, rejected, did everything she could to destroy— betrayed
her.

A hard gag for air made the melted pills fall into the toilet, the burn in her throat making her
cough up the few caught in the back of her mouth.

He dragged them both to their knees as she tried to stop it, his hand sharply tugging her head
back with enough force to give her immediate whiplash.

His other hand forced her mouth open, two fingers shoving harshly into the back of her
throat.

Her sudden burst of energy already subsided, hands flying to his forearm but too weak to
yank him away.

She gagged loudly over the sound of the bathtub filling, trying to fight her body's built in
response.

It failed only seconds later, body bending forward as she vomited the rest.

He tightly held her hair back as she retched and shook against him, pulling her up to face him
before she got her bearings to fight back.

“How many did you swallow?” He demanded with a single firm shake of her head.

She stayed silent, meeting his eyes with a hard stare as pill-saliva dribbled down her chin.

He took her freedom again.

He took the only thing she yearned for in a long, long time, the peace she didn’t know she’d
been looking for her whole life.

So she wouldn’t give him anything.

If he didn’t know how much she swallowed—even though if it was minimal— she wouldn’t
tell him.

He could sit with that uncertainty, the same way he’d let her sit with it every single day.

His face flashed with something unknown before he forced hers back over the toilet, the
small beat of defiance earning his fingers right back into her throat.

The rest of the pills came up around his fingers, her stomach churning as the burn in her chest
made her eyes blur harder.

He kept with the cycle until the rest of what she spat out turned clear, his grip loosening
barely a fraction.

She coughed, gagged and sputtered until he was satisfied—the only sounds to fill the
bathroom as he moved to turn off the bath.
But the bottle was still there on the floor, a final glimmer of hope making her turn on her
hands and knees to reach for it.

Her fingers barely brushed over the plastic before his hand slammed into her chest, pushing
her back with enough force to make her topple over onto the ground.

She didn’t care how hard she landed on her arm as she watched him, pouring the rest into the
toilet before moving to flush it.

The pills sank beneath the water, swirled, and then they were gone.

That was it.

The last thing she had, the last shred of choice washed away like it was nothing.

A heavy silence fell over the entire basement, not far from the one she experienced when he
was gone.

She had spent moment after moment yearning for this one, pushing through every tortuous
minute with the assurance that she’d be gone.

But here she was.

Alive.

Stuck.

Defeated by him.

The realization seeped further into her mind, intricately undoing the little hope she had left.

Her eyes blurred with empty disbelief, heavy breaths from the way she fought hard—so, very
hard— now subsiding.

Her heart fluttered hard against her rib cage, unsure of how to get back on track.

Time slowed down.

Time wasn’t real.

Her eyes looked over to him with a slow blink, fingers barely curling and letting go on the
floor beneath her as she drifted in her mind.

He was just as frozen still as she was, on his knees staring blankly into the water as if he
could still see what was there.

Maybe she was sleeping.

Maybe she took all of the pills, and this was the nightmare replaying in her head that her
body clung to with its last bit of life.
A nightmare where she didn’t make it, where she couldn’t leave.

That’s what felt the most real.

And maybe that’s all that really mattered— whatever she chose reality to be.

It was a nice realization to have.

Her mind was playing tricks on her, but she still saw through it enough to know she’d be
gone in a blink.

His head slowly turned towards her before his eyes did, an unreadable expression crossing
his face.

The darkness would take her away from here at any moment.

She barely registered him or his movements anymore.

Not until heat bloomed across her face, sudden and intense enough to make her vision go
momentarily black.

That was her darkness, the most he’d ever let her have.

The numbing fog of her mind cleared away, dropping her right back to where she was.

In the suddenly too small bathroom, just as trapped as she was on the first day.

Her hand rose to her cheek shakily, ears ringing as pain traveled throughout her jaw.

Her heart found its rhythm again, compensating for the delay by rising to an impossibly fast
rhythm.

The bathroom swirled and closed in on her all at once, panic creeping into her chest and
traveling down every limb.

“Get up.” He broke the silence and rose to his feet.

The thrum of her heart sounded in her ears, too loud for her to hear him.

Her brain didn't catch up either, too preoccupied with unraveling thoughts.

She just wanted to be done.

She just wanted the torture to be over.

The panic and rage of failure surged forward as he leaned down to pull her up, making her
swiftly yank away from his grasp.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” she spat in the harshest tone she’d ever given him.
“Don’t touch me.”
The thought of being touched was overstimulating enough, worsened by the motions her
body and mind were failing to sort through.

He inhaled through his nose and stared at her, eyes going dark before he moved again.

He was calm. Too calm.

She was flat on her back before she could see it happen, fists tightening in his grasp as he
pinned her down.

No, no no no—

She couldn’t breathe.

His weight pressed her into the cold hardness of the bathroom floor, keeping her still.

She needed space.

Space from her surroundings, his touch, the walls— the entire world crashing down on her.

Her body thrashed beneath him, legs kicking into the air with the little space they had to
move.

“Get off of me!”

Her chest heaved when he didn’t budge, a familiar hardening between them tipping her panic
over the edge.

Not that. Not now.

She let out a blood curling scream as her tears fell, trapped under the weight of him.

"Please let me up" she sobbed, frantically squirming to free herself.

He was still too calm, head tilting as he watched her reaction.

“I’ll let you up when you calm down.” He said evenly.

She audibly hyperventilated and twisted underneath him, choked words barely escaping her
lips.

“I can’t breathe.” she forced out with a sob.

“I’m not sitting on your chest.” He dismissed with a low, mocking tease.

“You can breathe just fine.”

She choked on her cries as tears clouded her vision, closing her eyes as she fully crushed
under the weight of his control.
"Please.” she shook her head and whimpered softly, the most sincere she’d ever asked him
for anything.

"Please just kill me.”

His grip on her wrists loosened, eyes sweeping over her face with an unreadable expression.

Her breath stuttered as she looked up at him, half expecting him to force himself onto her.

He rose to his feet instead, a small smirk crossing his face as he extended a hand to her.

“Let’s have a talk sweet girl.”

___

She let him lead her back into the basement on uneven legs, her body still buzzing
uncontrollably as they moved through the space.

He helped her sit back down on the bed, soothing a thumb over her wrist as he secured it
back to the headboard.

Her head still spun, but something about his demeanor changed— a stark contrast to
everything he’d done before.

He moved to pull up the chair across from her, sitting down close enough for their knees to
touch.

She let her only free hand tremble in her lap, staring down as she failed to stop the swirl of
her thoughts.

He tilted her chin up to look at him.

“I think we’ve misunderstood one another.” His eyes gazed over her face in quiet
consideration.

She slightly fidgeted where she sat, eyes blinking up at his blankly.

“I misunderstood your ability to be alone for twenty seconds— and you misunderstood me.”

She didn’t know what he was saying. Why any of this mattered. Why anything mattered.

“I’m many things, sweet girl.” He continued with a sigh as he slightly leaned back in the
chair with ease.

“Structured. Particular, maybe a little bit controlling—“ a small hint smile ghosted over his
lips before he continued.

“But one thing I’ll always be is self aware. I took you, I’m keeping you here, I’ve hurt you
numerous times.“
He shifted in his seat at the last statement, her muscles tightening immediately.

“None of that will change. But what you need to understand—“

His hand came up to her jaw as he leaned in, painfully close as his voice lowered to a near
whisper.

“Is that you’re not leaving me. Ever.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, sniffling heavy as she choked back a cry.

“I’m a person.“ she murmured, soft and barely confident.

“Are you?” He replied with a tilt of his head.

She sucked in a breath and fought the desire to break down, suddenly not too sure of the
answer herself.

“The only personhood you possess is whatever I give you.”

She blinked at him slowly, his words wrapping around her like a curse.

“And the person you are is alive. It’s staying that way, no matter what.”

Her hand tightened in her lap, curling into a tight fist as she looked up to him.

"Why won’t you just let me die ?” she whispered.

He studied her for a moment, placing his palm flat out in front of her.

“Give me your hand.”

She hesitated and unconsciously pulled it away from him, a slight whimper escaping her
lips.

His eyebrows briefly shot up.

“Would you like me to fuck you instead?”

Her heart sped up at the thought of it, shakily extending her hand towards him.

The crassness of the threat cut through her daze.

Even after everything she’d done, everything— he couldn’t let her just sit in her despair.

Her other hand suddenly felt like it was bound impossibly tight on the headboard, loud clangs
filling the space between them.

“Please don’t —“ she sobbed as he pulled her towards him, her body too drained of
everything to refill with panic.
Fear and tears took its place instead—the helpless feeling of being forced.

He shushed her cries with a long whisper, reaching for her chin as he pressed a hard kiss to
her lips.

She failed to pull away when he pressed his forehead to hers, soaking up every part of her
grief.

“You want to die sweet girl?”

There was no use lying. He already knew.

She nodded quickly and closed her eyes, his own face close enough to hers to feel the sharp
intake of breath at his words.

“Say it.”

She whimpered without even trying, a broken plea for what she still badly craved.

“Please just let me go.”

For the first time, she didn’t mean outside the walls of the basement. Or to go back home.

They both knew what she meant.

His other hand shifted to curl around the back of her neck, tightening with possession.

“You want to know why I won’t let you go?” His thumb rose to slowly swipe over the wet
skin of her cheek.

“Because you’re mine, and I won’t share you. Not with death—not with anything or anyone
on this earth.”

Her breath hitched, time slowing down around her.

She wasn’t her own anymore.

His control consumed her completely, leaving her nothing to do but cry in her helplessness.

Her shoulders slumped when he pulled away, the same dejection after he forced himself onto
her coming back to haunt her.

She was still there.

She wasn’t leaving.

Because he wouldn’t let her.

“Breathe sweet girl.”

She shook her head in his hands and shivered, unable to pull away from his grasp.

“I’ve already told you—you’re lucky. I’m not nearly as bad as you let yourself believe.”

Her head spun with uncertainty, lost in a mental limbo.

His words were so distant they were almost just a muffle—but he kept going.

“I could’ve taken you from your job the same way I did, fucked you once and slit your
throat.”

“I could’ve forced your head under the water in the bathtub, threw you down and fucked you
on the bathroom floor the way I wanted to.”

“And just now—“ He said gently as he swiped away the tears on her face with his thumbs.

“I could’ve made you take me on the bed— made you feel your mistake—but I didn’t.”

Her jaw clenched as she recalled the taste of the pills, bitter and metallic and dark.

“So….here’s what’s going to happen.” He continued with finality.

“We’ll forget about your mistake. You’ll remember what I said about not leaving. And if you
need time to get over it—I won’t fuck you for a day or two. But there are other ways to make
me feel good, sweet girl. And plenty that we have yet to explore.”

He scanned over her shuddering frame, her very life essence drained from her body.

“I believe you still have something to tell me.”

Her eyes found his again. But for the first time since she’d been there, they weren’t
searching.

No trace of pleading. No silent cry for mercy. Just blank.

The words fell from her lips as if they were second nature, small and broken.

“I love you.”

Those words could never mean the same to her.

The true definition had long since been defiled, and twisted into something beyond repair.

Just like her.

He pulled her into his chest with a satisfied hum and left her in thought, hand smoothing over
her back as she went weightless in his arms.

She should’ve moved away from him.

 She should’ve told him that he didn’t have a right to do any of this, to just keep her like
property, and that it wasn’t fair.

But she could already hear his steady voice— “Life isn’t fair sweet girl.”

Her body was buzzing with something primal, overwhelmed by the threats surrounding her.

Him. The silence. Herself.

For the first time since she’d been there, her mind went completely silent.

His previous words were the only thing in the back of her mind, too distant to decipher.

“What it won’t change, is the fact that you’re here. And that I found everything about you
to be perfect from the moment I saw you. I can break you— Then put you back together
just enough to do it again.”

Chapter End Notes

if you haven't heard it lately, i value your existence :)

(PS. no more intern for the rest of the story, promise)

questions, comments, concerns ↓

 Chapter 16: Day 6
Chapter Summary

defiance

Chapter Notes

hey!!! how y'all doin? (yes the meme)

first- i am so sincerely sorry i've been gone. life was giving me lemons (except the
lemons weren't lemons, they were grapefruits. and they weren't just given to me, they
were thrown like projectiles.) but everything is good now- please accept this chapter
(somewhere over 8k words) as another apology.

moving forward i plan on having every chapter be their own day (ch. 17 as day 7, ch.18
as day 8, so on and so forth) and maybe give the chapters names.

now for the story itself- this one was crazy to write (aren't they all) and there was a part i
literally felt anxious myself as i wrote it so i'm so excited for you to read it. please check
the tags!

i'm happy to be back! enjoy :)

(p.s. i know i don't always respond to comments immediately, but i do read all of them
and they do mean the world to me. more often than not i'm just nervous/baffled that i've
not only written this much and posted it, but that someone actually took the time to be
here and read it. there was a stretch of time while i was away that i was completely
unsure of my writing, but you guys made it impossible for me to feel that way for long.
thank u for being here. if you're still reading this, this chapter was for you, seriously.)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

_______

The basement door shut with the same weight it always had.

Loud. Heavy. Final.

The pills had long since been cleaned from the bathroom floor, camera turned off, tub and
sink now completely dried as if they hadn’t run at all that day.

He didn’t ask her if she wanted him to stay, he just did.

Until her breathing slowed.

Until her tear swollen eyes stared blank at the wall, and her shuddering frame stilled against
his chest.

Even as she slowly pulled away to curl tightly into a ball without looking at him, he still
stayed.

She hadn’t even been there a week, and it was already done.

She'd fallen over the edge, stripped of everything she desperately clung to, hoped for, and
was left mentally shattered—more vulnerable than she’d ever been before.

She was beautiful like this.

And yet, it weighed on him heavily.

Not remorse. Not pity.

But an almost overwhelming swirl of anger and relief surged through him, far beyond the
limits he thought himself capable of feeling at once.

He couldn’t let it show on his face just yet. Not in front of her.

Instead he set his jaw and thought over every moment of the day, long after the rise of her
chest slowed to something even.

Long after the hand she wrapped around her legs went slack.

Even then- he still stayed longer than usual.

His eyes scanned over her body, carrying the weight of total surrender even in sleep.

Not even an hour ago she was a storm of desperation and panic, sobbing and shaking with
more fire in her than he’d seen since the first day.

Her energy had finally taken just as much as it gave, leaving her drained and fast asleep–
exactly where she was before.

But she was fine. Alive. And despite what she tried to do, nothing in the world would change
that.

He needed to think.

It led him where he was now, standing in his kitchen and gripping the sides of the countertop
deep in thought.
He stood almost rigid with contemplation; eyes fixed on the granite countertop as he went
over the day yet again.

Her silence.

The bar.

His return.

Her.

The reality of what really happened in the basement bathroom pressed in on him further.

His fingers tightened around a glass of water he poured but hadn’t touched, moving to take a
slow sip he barely tasted.

For nearly a week he had watched her, measured every shift in her expressions, demeanor,
and each little crack in her voice.

He observed her like she was something to be studied, some sort of ritual or addiction. His.

And yet, he missed it.

She got close to swallowing more pills than he would’ve known what to do with—too close.

He dragged a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his temple until it ached.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not like that.

Not with pills and manic desperation.

Not with her throwing herself off the mental ledge as if she still had any of her own volition.

She was supposed to break– but under him, for him.

The reality of it pressed further and made his pulse spike, fingers tightening around the now
empty glass of water.

He almost lost her.

The glass met the wall with a sharp and sudden crack, the sound of raining shards echoing
throughout the kitchen.

He straightened up as the remnants of a once perfectly crafted glass slipped down the wall,
wet and glaringly opposite of how orderly he kept his space– and himself.

His jaw tightened as the rage slowly simmered, eyes closing to mentally organize the facts in
front of him.
She was still his. Still everything he ever wanted.

And every single moment– the way she sobbed, leaned into the barest semblance of
“kindness”, the pained little whimper that escaped her lips when he thrusted in the exact way
he knew hurt her the most– all of it only deepened his fondness.

Even now, the memory of her perfectly broken plea for him to let her die stirred something in
him.

His hands went slack as he lost himself in thought, connecting the last dots of how she finally
tipped herself over the edge.

Somewhere in the last two days, he stopped measuring her proximity to the edge with exact
precision.

What she might've needed in order to be pulled back was replaced with what he wanted.

Craving became care. Possession substituted "gentleness".

A soft voice was replaced with a slap or taunt.

He’d grown so focused on her that it almost veered closer to careless than careful, so lost in
her that he didn’t realize she had slipped a step closer without him– and he’d fallen into her.

But he wasn't the reason she fell over.

He'd known from their only interaction outside of the basement that she’d make an attempt
on her life at some point, regardless of whether or not he was in it.

He didn’t care to regret his actions— what happened was inevitable.

But there were a few areas of improvement moving forward.

He pulled his shoulders back and exhaled slowly through his nose, at ease with the clarity
washing over him.

Control wasn’t something he lost.

But it was something he’d re-establish.

_____

Her first thought was that waking up must have been a mistake.

She didn’t open her eyes right away, and she didn’t need to.
The room hadn’t changed. The air still pressed down on her in the same way. Thick with
quiet, dejection, and nothing.

Her breath came in slow, indifferent waves, limbs heavy with a memory she refused to recall.

But it was there, just beneath the surface—blurred but intact. The pills. The struggle. The
exact moment she chose to end everything once and for all, and he chose not to let her.

She almost wondered if she should feel shame, or even embarrassment, but like everything
else—nothing.

Just a dull awareness that she was still here.

She slowly opened her eyes to find the ceiling staring back at her, silently wondering how
many more days she could take this.

But even the idea of giving up had been taken from her.

There was nothing she could do about it.

She turned her face towards the wall, pressing her cheek against the arm tucked beneath her
head.

It didn’t help anything—but it was something she chose.

She blinked slow and mentally scanned through her body, nothing more than a warm weight
sinking into the softness of the bed.

An ache in her arm. The sound of nothing.

The clamor of the heart in her chest that she desperately yearned to hear stop beating
completely.

Her mouth tasted faintly of metal.

All things she couldn’t change.

Her eyes caught the faintest crack in the wall, just visible if she stared blankly enough.

It was the kind of thing someone might fix. Or ignore. Or forget existed.

She shifted slightly, not registering the low growl of her stomach or the clang of the cuffs
against the headboard.

She blinked.

The light on the wall had shifted, some distance away from where she had barely noticed it
before.

She didn’t know when that happened.

Her ears tuned to a different sound before she could bring herself to notice— a small shift
outside the door.

The familiarity of it dragged her further into the static in her own head, not bothering to brace
herself as the heavy click of the door sounded throughout the basement.

Her eyes stayed trained on the same part of the wall, body just as limp as it had been since
she woke up.

Two days ago she would’ve moved– scrambled to the corner of the bed to get away from
him– but the drive was gone.

After a few more steps and a brief pause, the silence was broken.

“Good morning sweet girl.”

The quiet hung between them as she lay unmoving with her back to him, his voice sounding
miles away and too close all at once.

She wasn’t sure how many moments passed until a soft clang on the stand made her jolt
slightly, pulling her closer towards her senses.

The air now smelled lightly of cinnamon and milk, a perfectly made bowl of oatmeal sitting
within her free arms reach.

Her body shifted before she could stop it, a slow reluctant turn towards the noise.

She sat up and blinked at the bowl like it wasn’t for her, intentionally avoiding his gaze.

She didn’t have to look at him to know he was just as rejuvenated as he was watchful, the
smug satisfaction he always carried looming over her.

He eyed her curiously, probably noting the way she hadn’t moved.

“How did you sleep?”

Heavily. And when she did she dreamt of shadows and nothing, leaving her sleep just as
barren as she felt.

She didn’t tell him that.

“I’m not hungry.”

He eyed her for a moment before speaking.

“That wasn’t the question.”

His words weren’t cruel or angry, just …absolute.

Too calm for the reality of what was actually happening, too calm for what happened.
“I tried to kill myself.”

Her words came out of nowhere— detached and cracked, spoken more as observation than
feeling.

But that memory wasn’t just a dream. She didn’t dream anymore.

His jaw ticked once, barely a beat of silence passing before she spoke again.

She blinked away from the bowl on the stand, barely meeting his eyes before she stared past
him towards the wall across the room.

“You told me you were self aware.” she said flatly, no feeling beyond reciting his words.

The silence stretched longer this time, a small breath entering her lungs before she let it go.

She didn’t look at him.

“I tried to kill myself.” she repeated softly, visibly letting the words settle over her.

He almost spoke but she interrupted, no fear in her expression as she finally met his gaze.

“To get away from you.”

He studied her with a small tilt of his head, expression unreadable.

“You say that like it makes you brave.” His eyes scanned over her frame.

“I don’t think I am.” she murmured with emotionless honesty, eyes turning back to the wall.

A flicker of something crossed his face, as if he was processing every part of her newfound
boldness before responding.

But she wasn’t trying to be bold.

She wasn’t trying to be brave.

She was neither of those things.

She was just depleted.

“You don’t need to think at all sweet girl.” He corrected evenly. “You need to eat.”

A sound slipped from her throat, humorless and unfeeling.

“I needed a lot of things.” Her voice came so distant she could have shrugged. “To not have
been taken being one of them.”

The girl she was three days ago wouldn't have even dreamt of talking to him that way. But
now she was just here, just a breath, unflinching at the thought of repercussions.
His reply didn’t come as quickly this time, but his tone was the same. Self-assured and
measured.

“And if I hadn’t, where do you think you’d be?”

She once pondered that answer herself many times, fantasized about the simple, mundane and
safe life she’d be leading if their paths never crossed.

“It’s not rhetorical.” He added, continuing even though she hadn’t moved to answer. “We
both know the answer. You’d be exactly where you are now. Not in the basement— but still
bound. By the days that would pass you by like a blink. That feeling of nothing inside you
that you’d try to get rid of. By the lie you’d tell yourself that it’s worth it to see another day
that you don’t even want. It is—for some. For many. But not for someone like you. And if
you weren’t here, you’d still try the same thing eventually. Maybe not with pills, maybe not
in a week. But eventually. The only difference is— I’m not letting it.”

He paused for a moment, no hint of anything besides confidence in his words.

She stared back at him blankly, no stir of emotion rising.

He was mostly right.

No matter how much therapy she started or proper doses of antidepressants she’d taken— it
was still there, buried deep in the back of her mind.

The passing curiosity of what falling from the highest bridge in her town would feel like. A
lingering thought about how bleeding out on a cold, hard ground would actually feel.

She had still tried to move forward despite her thoughts, and a lot of the time it worked. But
only as a means of covering up the bad parts of herself, like dirt over a grave.

Even in her numbness she knew that what was inevitable for her, didn't make him blameless.

“So yes,” He said finally, as if he’d just explained something simple. “You did try to kill
yourself. And where did that get you?”

She didn’t flinch, just stared into his eyes and blinked once.

“Away from you.” she repeated simply. “Almost.”

He paused and clenched his jaw for a second, immediately ending the conversation.

“Eat.” He said, slightly sharper now.

She didn’t budge.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m not asking.”

“You told me you were self aware,” she repeated, reopening the conversation. “But I don’t
think you are.”

She was perpetually tired. Sore like her body spent days underwater, voice matching exactly
how she felt.

No anger or attempt to get a rise out of him—just truth.

“I tried to take my own life to get away from you. And maybe I still would’ve done it. Even if
I wasn’t here. But it doesn’t change that you’re part of the reason. You don’t listen. You don’t
care. You just take. Everything. My body, my mind and I—“

Her first bare flicker of emotion since the night before rose in her chest, her body
immediately snuffing it out.

It was useless.

A soft breath escaped her lips before she spoke again, shoulders dropping with defeat.

“Taking my life was my choice. And it was the only thing I had left. You took that from me
too.”

She made sure her eyes were now locked on his, the rigid posture in his stance unreadable.

“So no, I’m not eating. I’m not going to fight you. I’m not giving you anything, ever again.
And I'm not hungry.”

Her words lingered as she finished speaking, echoing in the space between them.

He didn’t respond.

The silence stretched long enough that she wondered if he would leave her without a reply,
only a stare so focused that it left no question that he did hear her.

Another moment passed before he reached into his pocket, pulling out the handcuff key to set
down on the stand.

Her fingers slightly twitched in the handcuff as he moved slow and deliberate, stepping
towards the far end of the basement and reaching for something she couldn’t see.

She watched as he pulled a loop of rope from a nearby cabinet, returning to drop it onto the
sheets with a soft thud.

Her heart rate was steady, curiosity taking over the space in her chest where there once
would've been fear.

He silently continued without expression, pulling the rope until it uncoiled and spilled to the
floor.

She didn’t move when he reached for her ankle.

He gently pulled it up then rested it flat on the rope, moving for one side and then the other,
steadily pulling it together until—

Her breath caught small and reflexive, realizing what he was doing.

Tying her ankles to the bed.

He didn’t bother looking at her as he moved with ease, each knot leaving her more immobile
than the last.

With a sharp tug he took a step back and eyed his handiwork, visibly confident that she
couldn’t move if she tried.

He picked up the handcuff key next, unlocking the bind on the bed before looping it through
the headboard and clicking it over her free wrist.

Her heart rate finally spiked.

She was completely bound.

He gave her hands a final tug, this one firm enough to show them both that the restraints
would hold.

His hand continued moving down slow and intentional, sliding over her bandage gently.

It ghosted up to her face next, fingers brushing along her cheek as if he were wiping away
something that wasn’t there.

“I believe you sweet girl.” He finally met her eyes.

“Which means you’ll have no problem staying here.” His voice dipped, low enough to hum
through her bones.

“Just like this.”

His thumb brushed over her bottom lip before pulling away, picking up the bowl of oatmeal
just as quickly as he’d placed it down.

Her heart rate ticked up with every other step he took away from her, until the even shut of
the basement door made her jolt.

She went rigid despite the restraints, too fearful of the panic that would rise if she moved
even slightly.

In this silence, the past twenty-four hours didn’t matter.

This was exactly where she was before.

And maybe where she always would be.

___
The sound of the door locking echoed down the hall behind him.

He didn’t look back.

He walked to the kitchen without an ounce of tension in his step, the bowl still warm in one
hand.

His head was a bit higher than the day before–not with pride or a sense of false security– but
with resolution.

After yesterday, he’d made sure of it.

Today he woke up rejuvenated, plan in mind, already prepared for whatever response she’d
give him.

Tears, anger, resistance, and an entirely new one altogether– utter defiance.

He had expected it eventually, and assumed it would likely occur after he broke her.

But whether he broke her himself or she did, that didn’t matter anymore.

What happened was inevitable, just like the attempts on her own life were.

Right now was what mattered.

After a long night spent doing what he does best and analyzing, he woke up knowing that he
was several steps ahead of the world, her, and even his own desires.

But when it came to her, no amount of safety was too much.

He walked to the counter and set down the bowl of oatmeal with a muted clunk, laptop
already open to his work email.

A very quick one had been sent over his morning coffee before he left to the basement, its
recipient intentionally chosen.

He had barely scanned the screen, but just as he’d anticipated— there it was.

A rather quick reply from the marketing manager, offering to meet with him over a call to
discuss a small skew in data.

“No worries for the weekend contact. I made a few edits late Thursday and forgot to update
— the data you're pulling is likely from last cycle. I can absolutely have it cleaned up pre-
meeting and reposted before the review. I’m happy to hop on a quick call if that’s easier to
work through.”

Exactly what he needed.

Not for his work— he could find a way around the anomaly he found in the data—but for the
girl who was his.

He emptied her discarded bowl of oatmeal and placed it in the dishwasher after a quick rinse,
shut his laptop and carried it in tow to his office.

His steps paused when he reached the hallway, perfectly pristine and unassuming.

There was some sort of intimacy in the two of them being the only ones to know she was
down there.

Only them in the world.

He passed the basement door without a second glance, barely any urge to look back.

He didn’t need to.

She was still there, tied, contained and still.

Not because he had to force her—he’d done it without resistance.

But because he planned for her.

He reached his office and set up the call, eyes scanning over the rug she crawled away from
him on just two days ago.

Her sobs and whines replayed in his mind, just as perfectly broken as she was now.

And maybe she didn’t think she was capable of it anymore, but the mind of a girl who was
willing to take her life at any given moment couldn’t exactly be trusted.

She was younger than he was, still naive—especially to think there was nothing left to give
him.

But most of all, she was still his. And that was everything he needed.

He’d prove that to her at some point, already going over the tools at his immediate disposal.

Old boxes from childhood, the toolbox in his garage—

“Hi! Thanks for meeting with me on the weekend. Hope I didn’t throw off your workflow too
much. ”

He turned his attention back to the virtual meeting, offering a small nod and smile before
replying.

“It’s no problem at all.” He replied professionally, already reaching for a folder on his desk.
“Just wanted to get everything aligned before Monday. I appreciate your time.”

She smiled that same smile that always seemed a little bit more than professional, listening in
as he dove into the specifics on his findings for the next several minutes.
“-And I totally missed the update after the last rollout.” She scanned over her screen with a
few audible clicks of her mouse. “I can update the log and have it sent over to the share
folder here shortly.”

Normally, that's where he would’ve ended it with a quick thanks.

But that wasn’t what he wanted out of this meeting.

“Anything important?”

“Not exactly.” She shook her head with a small smile. “You're one of the few impactful
things we’ve got left in this company. The trajectory we were on before? Two more years and
we would’ve been done. I’ve already noticed bounds of growth in leadership and
expectations alone— even in the intern program.”

That was his chance, an opportunity served to him so perfectly he could’ve smiled.

“Since you mentioned it,” He finished writing something in the folder next to him, continuing
as if it meant nothing to him. “We might want to consider running through policies and
procedures for incoming moving forward.”

“Oh goodness.” She quirked an eyebrow with a sigh, reaching for her cup of coffee. “Now
that I already agree with. Something happen?”

“Not exactly.” He shook his head, observing the way her posture shifted, visibly feeling
special at the way he chose to speak to her about something that didn’t have to do with data.

Good.

“Just a public run in and some visible confusion on conversational boundaries— nothing
worthy of a formal record. I’d just rather we do our part to educate and ensure they’re
equipped to succeed when they move up in the world.”

“Oh you're such a saint.” She nodded as if it were fact, gesturing with her free hand as she
continued. “We don’t deserve you. I can make sure they get some extra clarity during
onboarding.”

“I appreciate it.” He gave a half smile. “We can do our jobs and do them well, but I can’t say
I’m doing my part if I don’t look out where I can for those coming after us.”

“You're so great,” She agreed. “And I’m sorry about that by the way. Your time away from
work is yours, and you deserve to fill it however you want. And hey—even if anything ever
did come up—we have your back. You’re far too invaluable here.”

The words settled over him, reinforcing what he already knew.

“I’m not worried about that.” He said honestly. “Just want to make sure we’re doing our part.
I’ve seen how invaluable the way you carry yourself and your team is to the company as
well.”
She took the bait and nearly giggled, slightly tilting her head with a quick bite of her lip.

“Well I appreciate it. It’s a pleasure to work alongside you, and I don’t know anyone here
who wouldn't attest to that. I’ll have that file updated shortly.”

“Thank you for your time.” He added sincerely. “I’ll reach out if I need anything further.”

“Anytime.” She smiled.

The call ended and silence took over the room again, one hand coming to close his laptop.

The mask was gone just as quickly as it’d been put on.

“We have your back—you’re far too invaluable for us to lose.”

He already knew it, and he knew he made sure the intern had felt it.

A story wasn’t something he was worried about. Not with his friends seeing her approach
him, her following him in and out of the bathroom, and that desperate expression telling him
to “wait”—all on the bar camera.

It wouldn’t go far if she up and changed her mind. But if in some world she ever did— he
wasn’t letting that cost him his job.

Halfway done.

He leaned back in the chair and reached for his phone, finding now to be a perfect time as
ever.

His mind drifted to the basement as the phone dialed, looking over at the clock on the wall.

She’d been restrained for less than ten minutes, every second giving her nothing more to do
but think and struggle, maybe shed a tear if she was lost in her own head enough.

Exactly to plan.

The phone picked up after the next ring, his friend's voice coming through the other end.

“Well look who it is. Need me to bail you out of corporate jail?”

“Not exactly.” He laughed softly. “Figured I owed you a follow up after last night.”

“Left us high and dry.” He could practically hear the sarcastic shake of his head through the
phone. “All good man. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Almost finished up early but found a mess in the marketing stream from a recent
campaign and spent half the night rebuilding the dataset. Figures it would happen on the
night I put everything aside to go out.”

“Geez man.” His friend immediately sympathized. “You weren’t lying. Shit sounds brutal.”
“It was.” He agreed, rising to leave his office as he continued. “Last night was intense.”

He fixed his collar and glanced in the mirror; the exact one he held a shaking frame against as
he and whispered depravities so deep she felt them in her bones.

“-But nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Glad I got out of that corporate mess when I did.” His friend quipped. “You’re a better man
than me, that's for sure.”

“Doubtful." He laughed with honestly. "You work with actual customers. Takes far more
patience than a data sheet.”

His friend chuckled at that.

“Doc hold up okay after I left?” He stepped into the long stretch of hallway as he
intentionally brought up their other friend, walking back to his kitchen with no rush.

“Don’t worry about offending him, we both know that man doesn't give a shit about anything
but work and his wife.” He said matter of factly. “Went on and on about planning his
wedding anniversary soon as you left. Had to suggest double or nothing to get him to change
the subject."

He poured himself a glass of water as his friend continued into a ramble about complaints of
work, his own love life, and plans to get a new TV for the upcoming game season.

The call was short, but more than productive.

He moved to text the doctor next, continuing the thread after the message he received from
him last night.

"Anniversary, huh?"

A reply came minutes later, phone buzzing on the granite countertop.

"Absolutely. And if you've got any ideas, I'm still accepting. Next drinks still on you."

Something different bloomed in his chest then— a new beginning.

He saw the way he maintained his outside world now through a wider, wiser lens.

The casual conversations, the harmless emails—everything confirmed it.

His friends didn’t suspect him of anything other than a fairly unhealthy work obsession.

His work team valued him, more than allegations.

The defiance he received was being addressed even out of his presence, and his world— their
world, was maintained.

His plans for them had hardly begun.

That was resistance.

That was control.

He caught her before she could plummet herself to the ground, and he looked out for them
both.

And he would—every time.

___

She didn’t notice the silence anymore.

She didn’t know how long he’d been gone.

Her mind drifted and settled on something else entirely, eyes blank as she stared at the
ceiling.

She didn’t know how long she’d been in the basement, or the last time she’d even seen a
clock.

The last update he’d given her was when he told her she’d been there for four days, “and you
still haven’t learned it’s disrespectful to not speak when you’re spoken to.”

She willed herself to stay still, remembering what a clock looked like.

Two hands—three, several numbers and lines to signify the time of day.

Distantly, she knew there was a point in time where she somehow made sense of it.

Early on at five years old, seated at her kindergarten carpet full of tony giggles and wonder.

That little girl—that mindset was dead.

She blinked once and the memory was gone, as if it hadn’t belonged to her in the first place.

Her hand twitched slightly in the cuff, aching the fading pain in her elbow from landing flat
on it the night before.

She tried to move it to readjust— only making her other hand move.

Then her shoulder.

Then her legs, pulled taut and secured by the rope.

The realization slammed into her head all at once.

She was completely immobilized, and couldn’t move without moving against something else.
The restraints weren’t distant abstracts behind her scattered thoughts anymore, they were
real.

Tied around her wrists. Her ankles. Her breath.

Panic stirred immediately, catching in her throat with a jolt of her chest.

He wouldn’t leave her like this.

He couldn’t.

But the thought echoed louder than her breathing, even as her chest rose and fell too fast, too
shallow.

She pressed her eyes shut and tried to ignore it; how human it felt, how much it mimicked the
way he pinned her down the night before.

It was suffocating—a panic that pressed inward, plaguing her with nowhere to go.

Her thoughts unraveled quickly.

He’d be back. He’d be back.

And even his presence, his taunts, his degrading— maybe it would be more tolerable than
this.

He wouldn’t leave her here for hours to fall further into herself, until her mind was so
jumbled she’d start to second guess which experiences were real.

Or maybe he would.

She made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.

And maybe for once he was giving her exactly what she asked for.

Her legs pulled tight on the rope, a shuddering breath escaping when they only wrapped
tighter.

She told herself not to move again. She could trick her body into forgetting that she was
bound.

It didn’t help.

Every passing second felt like minutes.

And then she heard it.

The shift in weight above her, a soft creak, then the sound of the door unlocking.

For the first time, his footsteps felt like relief.

He didn’t speak once he approached the bed, eyes slowly scanning over her body as he read
her face like an open book.

The silence stretched for a moment, her head beginning to pulse with anticipation.

“I brought you something.” He said finally.

She glanced up at his hand to see a glass of water, a dull thud following as he placed it on the
stand.

“You’ve had a rough morning.” He observed. “Do you want me to untie you?”

She met his eyes and blinked.

“Oh sweet girl.” His voice turned to something soft, slightly smiling as he reached to brush
away the hair that landed on her face after several thrashes. “If you want me to undo knots as
perfect as those, you’re gonna need to use your words.”

She didn’t want to beg anymore.

Her body didn’t want anything more than to be untied.

He tilted his head curiously at her silence, fingers pausing against her cheek.

“That’s okay.” He soothed. “I have a better idea.”

She froze when he moved to climb over her, legs straddling her waist as his hands landed on
either side of her head.

“It’s been a while since we’ve done just this,“ He said calmly, eyeing her with that particular
look that made her stomach twist. “Hasn’t it?”

He continued when she only offered him a slight clench of her jaw, all too aware of the
weight on top of her.

“You beneath me. Scared of what I might do to you.”

She pulled a soft breath through her nose, meeting his eyes with her own.

“I’m not scared.” she muttered softly.

He hummed softly, not looking away from her.

Her hands twisted in the handcuffs, unease making goosebumps travel over her arms.

“You’re going to beg me to let you go.“ He said matter of factly.

“Or I can leave you here the rest of the afternoon, maybe the day—“ His hand slipped lower,
fingertips trailing until he pressed them into the skin of her pelvis, right over her bladder.
She jolted at the contact, the ghost of a smile crossing his face when she was unable to press
her knees together.

“—and I won’t be back to let you use the bathroom.”

Her body begged her to do it, a deep ache already forming at the urge to use the bathroom.

She ignored it.

“I’m not sorry.” she said softly.

She wasn’t sure for what, but she wasn’t sorry for any of it.

Not for her words this morning, and definitely not for last night.

“I don’t need you to be sorry.” He said matter of factly. “Your existence is. But you know the
way out of the restraint's sweet girl. Five seconds— or I’m leaving.”

Five.

Her heart fluttered.

Four.

Her legs shifted.

Three.

“Please.” a tiny sound escaped her throat, barely above a whisper. “please untie me.”

His eyes went dark for a moment, reveling in the small plea she just gave him.

“Good girl.” He murmured with satisfaction, rubbing slow circles over her hip. “But not
yet.”

She held her breath.

“You said something interesting earlier.” He said idly, letting the words hang in the air as he
marveled at her skin beneath his palm.

His eyes flicked up to hers again.

“You have nothing left to give me.”

She didn’t respond, hands squeezing in the handcuffs in anticipation.

Her mouth parted slightly, the look in his eyes pressuring her to respond.

“I— I’m just tired.” she whispered.

“I know sweet girl.” He added gently. “I said I believed you.”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek, the other reaching for his back pocket.

The cold snap of a blade flicking open broke the silence between them.

Her blood went cold.

A small black utility knife was pulled from behind his back, exactly like the ones that were
once sold at her job.

Her body froze up instinctively, a new awareness of the vulnerability in her position washing
over her.

His hand moved to lift her shirt, resting the flat of the blade on her stomach light enough for
the cold metal to send chills down her body.

“That.” He started again, eyes flicking up to hers as the blade stayed steady against her. “Tell
me how that feels.”

The primal edge of danger poured into her blood, chest heaving softly underneath his
forearm.

She shook her head with a barely audible whine, struggling to form a sentence.

“It—I don’t—“

His thumb trailed over her bottom lip, shushing her rambles with a small whisper.

“Shh—that’s alright sweet girl. I’ll tell you what I see.”

He glanced down at the blade, watching the light glint off the edge. Admiring it. Admiring
her.

“Your stomach is trembling. Your hands tensed up.”

His thumb moved to rest over the pulse in her neck.

“Your breathing increased.”

He leaned down to close the distance between them, shifting his weight to his forearm.

His voice didn't rise. If anything— it softened.

“You think you’re numb. You think you have nothing left to give me. But this—“ He pressed
the flat side of the blade against her further, lips brushing close enough for her to feel his
breath.

“This is fear. And that won’t leave, ever. Just like you.”

Her chest strained like she forgot how to breathe without permission, the familiar burn of
tears behind her eyes.
Every part of her reaction had proved him right, as if her own body betrayed her,
unintentionally stating that he still owned her.

Her throat tightened as she tried to retreat into her stillness and crawl back into the numbness
—whatever quiet corner she’d been clinging to.

But it was gone.

Fear had rooted itself in her again—deep, fast, alive.

She hated it.

She hated herself more.

He let the words settle over her, filling the silence between them as he sat up and kept the
blade still against her skin.

“You also told me you tried to kill yourself. I know that too. But I’m only going to tell you
once— it’s in your best interest not to bring that up again.”

His eyes hardened as he looked up at her, already feeling the self loathing for how quickly
she nodded in agreement.

He was visibly satisfied after a beat, moving to untie her legs and let the rope fall to the
floor.

She braced herself and stared at the ceiling until he was finished, half expecting him to undo
her wrists next.

He climbed between her unclothed thighs instead, setting the blade on the bed out of her
restrained arms reach.

“I’ll let you out sweet girl.” He soothed his hand down her stomach, dangerously close to
landing in between her legs as she struggled soft against him. “But not yet— I want you to
remember this.”

He flipped up her shirt again, pressing the blade back against her skin, this time sideways and
sharp against her skin.

Her body went rigid, every nerve saying that if she jostled even slightly, the blade was angled
firmly enough to break skin.

It was wrong this way— twisted and bloodcurdling— and not of her own accord.

”Do you remember what happened the last time I hadn’t been inside you for longer than a
day?” His words were clear and calm, as if he didn’t have a weapon biting into her skin.

That was the day he hurt her the worst—impossible for her to forget.

She nodded softly.

He hummed in response, smiling as he recalled the memory himself.

“And what did I do to you when I finally was?”

“I—“ she started softly, voice faltering slightly. “You took me to your office.”

“I did.” He nodded, satisfied with her answer. ”And do you know how long it’s been since I
was last inside you?”

She didn’t.

”I don’t—“ Her breath shuddered audibly, feet shifting softly as she tried to remember. “ T—
two days?” she guessed softly.

“More or less. Longer now than it was before, yes?”

Her eyes watered against her will, too scared to admit it.

She didn’t like what it meant for her.

“yes.”

“So tell me. What do you think is stopping me from fucking you right now?”

The thought of it was daunting, a million different thoughts swirling through her head.

She must’ve sat there too long, because the blade pressed further into her stomach.

“I don’t—“ she stumbled quickly, panic coursing through her as the sharpness grew more
prominent.

“I don’t remember the question.” her voice trembled, almost breathless.

He smirked.

“Why am I not fucking you right now.” He repeated, “When every part of me wants to untie
you, pin you down and fuck you harder than I did in my office?”

Her chest was cold, no longer able to hear her heartbeat over the buzzing of primal fear as she
finally admitted it.

“I don’t know.”

“Because,” He replied, easing the tension from the blade pressed against her skin.

“I told you I wouldn’t—not today.”

Relief almost coursed through her— almost.

“But I also told you something else, didn't I?”

He undid his pants with his free hand, the clink of his belt filling the silence as he pulled
himself out—already hard.

He didn’t wait for a response this time.

“There’s plenty of other ways to make me feel good.”

She instantly regretted her soft “please” as soon as he groaned in reply and began stroking
himself over her stomach, sliding the knife further up her skin.

“You’re so pretty sweet girl.” He murmured, fingers abandoning the blade on the curled-up
fabric of her shirt.

A sick sense of relief settled when she felt his fingers run over her skin instead of the blade.

He wouldn’t kill her.

She knew that.

But she also knew he wasn’t opposed to her body getting cut.

He turned his gaze back to her stomach, thumb running just over her navel.

“Do you want to know how your little stunt almost ended last night?”

His hand moved to cradle her jaw now, the other keeping his cock pressed firm against her
stomach as he sped up his movements.

Her teeth clenched impossibly tight at the contact, wet eyes moving to lock on the ceiling.

She didn’t want to know. She didn‘t want to think about that, or him, this— or anything.

But he made sure she did.

“When I found you trying to toss back those pills, my first instinct was to knock them out of
your mouth myself.”

Her eyes clouded with tears.

“I almost held your head underwater.”

He groaned at his own words, movement picking up as he pushed himself closer to the edge.

“Not long—“ He continued. “Enough to make you feel what I took from you.”

He yanked her jaw down hard enough for her eyes to meet his.

“But you know what I took. Every breath since has been a reminder of your failure.”

Her lips trembled against her will.

“I wanted to fuck you hard —right there on the bathroom floor. In the middle of your
panic,” He paused to groan as his cock pressed further into her skin, “In the middle of those
perfect tears that fell so much you couldn’t breathe through your own nose.”

He smirked at that, thumb rubbing over his tip as he continued.

“I thought about going back on my word, staying down here through the night and fucking
you through it. And as soon as you thought I’d let you sleep— doing it all over again.”

A sick mix of fear and gratitude filled her chest, silently grateful that none of it was her fate
yesterday.

“But no matter what—I take care of you sweet girl. I keep my word. That comes before
anything else.”

Her brain tried to make sense of what he called care, in the midst of her feeling something
that wasn't.

He didn’t take from her the way he wanted to, even when he could’ve.

Maybe in that instance, he had shown her kindness.

He tilted his head as he watched her absorb his words, jaw clenching as he exhaled heavy
through his nose.

His hand slipped back to the knife as he settled between her legs, pressing the edge of it right
back over her skin.

It tore her out of her thoughts immediately.

Her breath hitched and he shushed her, pressing it in further and gliding it across her skin.

She let out a pained whine and bit her lip, a small red nick appearing before he closed the
knife and set it down on the side of her.

It didn’t bleed enough to drop, but a small sheen of red appeared across her skin.

Her tears slipped down the sides of her face as dragged his thumb over it, lost in his own
pleasure as he watched it spread over her skin.

It pushed him over the edge, hand tight on her hip as he gritted his teeth and spilled onto her
skin, pulling away to avoid the cut nick he’d made into her stomach.

His head tipped back as his shoulders slumped with pleasure, taking a few breaths before
standing and tucking himself back in his pants.

He placed the knife at the far end of the stand, turning back to her when he was sure it was
out of reach.
Her breath hitched as he moved to swipe a tear from her cheek, reaching a hand to tilt her jaw
towards him.

“I want you to remember this, too. It doesn’t matter how you feel. Your body is going to
respond to me, every time. Even if I didn’t tie you down, press a knife to your pretty skin…
your body reacts to my touch alone. It always will.”

She blinked once, already feeling the stillness settle over her again.

“What do you say sweet girl?”

She blinked once, struck with the whiplash that he’d just hurt her, even a small cut— and
now spoke to her gently.

“I—“ her voice rasped soft through tears. “I love you.”

”Not that.” He smirked. “Thank me for not hurting you the way I wanted to.”

She almost thought that he had— but the ache in her stomach paled in comparison to what
could’ve been.

“Thank you for not hurting me.” she said softly.

“Good.” He nodded, pulling the handcuff key from his pocket and finally undoing the cuffs.

Her wrists were still stiff when he undid them, barely responding to the slight roll she tried to
give.

”Let’s get you to the bathroom sweet girl.”

He helped her up with a firm hand on her wrist, no longer hurting her— just present.

She let him lead her into the bathroom, trying her best to ignore how jarring it was to stand
there.

The pills were cleaned from the floor like everything else, as if it hadn’t even happened.

He watched her use the bathroom as expected, eyes catching her own discomfort at the mess
on her stomach.

“Come on.” He reached out a hand when she finished up. “I’ll give you a bath.”

His hand wrapped around her wrist against firmly, pulling her behind him as he walked them
to a cabinet and reached for a towel, guiding her back to the bathroom and turning on the
water.

She slipped into a limbo of in between, hearing and feeling—but not being.

She heard the rush of the water as he turned on the bath.

Felt the way he helped her lower herself in with too much care, and the way the water stung
against her skin.

She heard the silence of him not saying anything as he washed her, but his touch was gentle.

Her legs braced on their own when he parted her knees and slipped the washcloth between
them, but he didn’t go further.

When she was done, he dried her off himself, pulling another one of his shirts over her head.

She didn’t remember where the shirt came from, only that he never left her alone.

He kept his hand on her, firmer as he guided her back to the bed.

She didn’t resist when he cuffed one hand to the bed, but she heard him say he’d be back.

Then he left, taking the knife with him.

The silence that followed wasn’t comfort.

Her thoughts weren’t her own in the way they were before.

Everywhere she retreated in the halls of her own mind, he was there.

Her defiance, anger, tears, despair— they weren’t the constant.

He was.

Her knees were pulled to her chest upon his return, but she didn’t move to look at him.

She heard a clink, rummaging, a cabinet opening and closing.

Then his steps as he approached her, unlocking the handcuff before bringing her to her feet.

He settled her down on her knees in front of the coffee table, walking around it to sit on the
couch across from her.

“You also said I don’t listen to you,” He said simply. “That I don’t care.”

She finally looked up, eyes scanning over the table.

Food. Water.

“The water you didn't finish.” He gestured, moving his hand to gesture to a bowl beside it.

“The pasta you liked the last time.”

Her body was relieved upon seeing it, eyes blinking once as her mind failed to process what
he was doing, and if it meant something.

“And—“ He moved his hand to the cushion beside him, reaching for a box beside him.
 He placed it in front of her, hands staying clasped in her lap as she watched.

A puzzle box.

He opened it and poured the pieces on the table, spreading them out until they were flat in
front of her.

“I ask you questions because I care— not to use them against you.”

She wasn’t capable of dissecting his words right now, to hold them up to see if there was any
truth to them.

But she did know it was odd to see the pieces, jarring.

The random activity of a girl who once did it to organize pieces and finally fix something.

It was distant now, hardly any feeling beyond images in her head.

Now there was nothing to fix.

Nothing that she thought was capable of repair.

Maybe she’d always known that.

The fingers in her lap unclasped slowly, moving for the piece in front of her.

Her hand hovered over it slightly— long enough for the voice that usually told her no to
interject.

One second passed.

Two.

Three.

Nothing.

Her hand reached.

Chapter End Notes

YOU MATTER YOU MATTER YES YOU READING THIS I WILL SHOUT IT
FROM THE ROOFTOPS UNTIL YOU BELIEVE ME
questions, comments, concerns ↓
 Chapter 17: Day 7
Chapter Summary

The silence never left.

Not really.

Besides him, it was all she had left.

Chapter Notes

HELLOOOO

i’m so sorry i left!! no i’m not done with this story, and no i’ll never leave it unfinished!
(:

not only have i had many misadventures (i could write an entire essay on where i’ve
been, but this story is crazy enough) i also really wanted to make sure i was even more
intentional with her character in this chapter as it’s day seven. it’s also from her pov
largely due to that reason. (and because well… stockholm incoming)

thank you for still being here, for your comments, and for reading. <3

as always, read the tags, and take care of you!

welcome back to the basement :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The silence never left.

Not really.

Besides him, it was all she had left.

Her fingers still wrapped loosely around the puzzle piece in her hand, eyes trained on the
edges as if there was a deeper meaning behind it.
Two days ago, she would’ve found one.

A gesture or rouse to soften the blow for something awful, or to worsen her next experience
entirely. She could never be completely sure.

Yesterday, it wouldn’t have mattered.

All she wanted was to be gone.

She was supposed to be gone.

And yet, she was here.

Breathing in the scent of the pasta still warm on the coffee table in front of her, steam rising
slow and curling towards the glass of water next to it.

Her stomach twisted with the absence of hunger.

Or maybe she was wrong.

It’d become easy to second guess her own needs with every passing day. If it wasn’t her own
mind making her question her own thoughts—it was him.

She didn’t look up, but she felt it.

The weight of his gaze was sharp enough to feel, anchoring her in place more than any of the
items she now knelt in front of.

He sat across from her unmoving, forearms resting on his thighs with his hands clasped
together.

Just as watchful of her as he always was.

For a fleeting moment she wondered if he was waiting for her to eat, or waiting for her to
refuse.

But she guessed that wouldn’t have mattered either.

No matter what she did, no matter what she “planned”, he always seemed to have an answer.

Her fingers flexed tightly, jagged edges of the puzzle piece pressing dully into her palm.

She loosened her grip once she began to feel it, gazing at the indent on her skin as her ears
tuned to the air of the basement.

Only this time, it was quieter.

A presence more than a pressure.

It was just him.

And her.

_____

No matter how slow or sporadic it came to her, sleep was always a certainty.

In the beginning, it was an escape.

A desperate wish that if she slept long enough, she’d wake up somewhere else. Somewhere
safe. Somewhere far.

Then it became relief.

Even when the words “get some rest” made her body go rigid with dread, there was always a
faint silver lining.

Because if she was sleeping, it meant that it was over for now. The worst part of the night had
already passed.

Lately, it was a reflection of her waking mind.

The handcuff bit into her wrist uncomfortably more than usual, and her only dreams were of
darkness— or nothing.

Hardly any signs of her family, and nothing of who she was before.

But that began to fade now too.

She stayed awake all night, alternating between sitting, kneeling, and curling into herself on
the bed.

The book he’d given her was finished under the sparse lighting in the basement, her free hand
slowly reaching to set it on the stand at what she assumed to be four in the morning.

Her head landed on the pillow as her knees rose to her chest, desperately trying to reach the
sleep that escaped her.

Every so often her thoughts would stop making sense, her eyes would close, and then…
nothing.

Of all the times he’d broken her, shattered her in the most horrible ways she never imagined
possible—this was the night her body refused to rest through.

She didn’t understand it until sunrise.

The dim lighting on the basement floor hadn’t shifted yet.

Just another cold, gray hour before the darkness gave in.
Then it hit her.

If her calculations were correct, she’d been there a week.

Or more.

Her entire body fell heavier at the realization, eyes never leaving the ground as she sat up
slowly.

One week.

Seven days, and seven nights.

Her feet met the iciness of the floor her eyes were locked on, hands coming to rest helplessly
in her lap.

She didn’t flinch when the handcuff gave a soft clang against the headboard, signaling to her
that she didn’t have any more space left to move.

It wasn’t anything new.

Her thoughts drifted before she could stop it, scattered and mismatched memories faintly
flickering by.

The smell of her favorite soap on her skin. Her mom’s laugh. The feeling of curling into her
own bed, finally relaxing after a long day.

A faded moment at ten years old, hoisted up on her dad’s shoulders when they made a family
trip to the zoo.

Mornings just like this— when she used to wake up with purpose.

She tried to remember what it felt like to choose. To truly want something, anything that
wasn’t a quiet wish to just disappear.

But days like that hadn’t existed for a while.

Even before him.

____

The room was brighter now.

Usually, that came with a reason to be afraid.

But she hadn’t moved, only distantly noted the difference between her past and current self
since she’d been there.
The girl who used to cower whenever something so much as creaked upstairs, and the one
who was now just… there.

Yesterday, she was sure that there was nothing left in her. She felt it.

And yet, every emotion she thought she had purged— anger, regret, dejection—he pulled it
out of her. Every time.

Refusing to acknowledge it kept her sane.

But his words embedded into her mind, planting themselves into a dying garden that only he
was tending to.

“Inherently worthless” was planted right next to “I ask because I care”, and somehow it was
more disorienting than the knife he had pressed into her skin.

Her head began to hurt from thinking.

It had consumed her for hours, immediately worsening once she didn’t have the book to
distract her.

For a moment she almost wished he would return, just for her mind to have something else to
focus on.

Almost.

She didn’t need to hear the door, she felt it.

The air shifted when the latch unlocked and he appeared at the top of the stairs, carefully
moving down the steps with a cup and plate in his hand.

Likely another small plate of food.

Something familiar and simple enough to keep going, like the pasta or oatmeal.

He didn’t acknowledge her until he set them down on the coffee table across the room, right
next to the puzzle she left half finished the day before.

Her eyes were on him before he saw her.

His appearance was as sharp and well groomed as it always was, but his demeanor oddly…
relaxed.

“Good morning sweet girl.”

She pressed her lips together as he approached, thankful that he filled the silence before she
had to reply.

“You finished the book.” He gestured towards the stand next to the bed. “How was it?”

She blinked and slightly faltered, suddenly unable to recall the name of a single character.
She didn't resonate with them.

Even in their brief moments of struggle, it paled in comparison to her reality.

“Fine.” she murmured softly, shifting under his gaze.

He reached for her jaw with one hand, thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

“Did you sleep?”

She knew he didn’t care, just as much as she didn’t know what to expect next.

Her head shook twice, eyes having nowhere else to look but directly into his.

He hummed and studied her for a moment longer, as if she had always been his to figure out.

His thumb ran softly over her skin once more before pulling away, reaching to pull the
handcuff key from his pocket.

A moment later he dropped the cuffs on the stand like they were nothing more than a
formality, taking a step back to give her room to stand.

“Use the bathroom,” He nodded towards the other side of the room. “Eat some of your
breakfast. And then you can go back to sleep.”

She moved but didn’t answer, tearing her gaze from his before slowly rising to walk towards
the bathroom.

There was no reason for her to trust him.

Let alone to believe that he’d let her eat, let her sleep, let her be.

But something about yesterday lingered.

He hadn’t hurt her after he tied her to the bed, smiling as he made her fear resurface before
pressing the blade to her skin.

Instead he sat across from her at the coffee table— quiet, observant, and giving her space.

He didn’t speak besides asking if she was finished with her food, if she was tired, and if she
needed anything else before he left.

The last time he touched her was nothing more than a gentle hold to her wrist as he cuffed her
back to the bed.

But whatever this was, it wasn’t peace. And it wasn’t anything near the horrors he’d put her
through—but awareness still sat heavy in her chest.

As soon as she finished using the bathroom, it only doubled.

He wasn’t watching her.

He hadn’t even come into the bathroom, just sat on the couch within sight of the open
bathroom door.

She paused in the doorway when he looked up at her, her hand slightly fidgeting with the
edge of the shirt before hurrying to sit down.

Her legs crossed as she sat on the other side of the coffee table, interrupting the silence when
she moved to reach for the food he laid out for her.

The water was the same, but the breakfast wasn't.

She froze.

Three perfectly made pancakes topped with freshly cut strawberries, syrup and whipped
cream.

She didn’t know what to make of it.

All of the food he’d given her thus far had been relatively non-extravagant, standard, and
hardly close to a hassle.

But this was different, almost pretty.

More than what she could finish, and a meal that definitely required more of his time.

Her surprise dulled the moment she realized he was watching her, finally dragging the plate
toward her with a soft scrape.

She briefly hovered over the silver fork and butter knife before picking them up, slowly
slicing a small side into the edge.

It didn’t require much strength, barely anything needed just to cut through the top.

But he reached for her hands anyway.

“Here.” He said before gently taking them from her hands. “Let me.”

His words weren’t firm but left no room for argument, hands returning to her lap as she
watched him cut her food for her instead.

Her mind clouded, eyes briefly glancing towards the place on the floor he pinned her beneath
him just a few days prior.

She had screamed as loud as she could then, struggled beneath him as he smirked— and now
he was letting her use the bathroom alone.

Letting her sleep. Letting her eat, and cutting her food with so much care and focus that his
brow slightly furrowed.

The impending doom in her chest unraveled, making her speak before she could stop.
“Why are you doing this?”

Her words came out smaller than she meant them to.

He let her question sit for a moment before replying, his movements never pausing.

“Doing what?” He asked without looking at her.

She pressed her lips together and let the silence settle again.

He knew what she meant. He must have.

She wasn’t asking about the extravagant breakfast or the almost uncomfortable gentleness of
him cutting her food, she was asking why.

Why he was doing any of this.

“There was something I told you the first day you were here,” He finished cutting her food
into even slices, sliding the plate back in front of her before resting his forearms on his
knees.

“Do you remember it?”

She couldn’t.

The hours bled into one another, making it more and more difficult for her to pinpoint what
was said on which exact day.

She shook her head slowly, fingers twisting in her lap with uncertainty.

“I won’t solely hurt you.” He nodded once as if he was just filling her in.

She remembered that moment.

Seconds after he slapped her for the first time, then soothed a hand over her cheek like it
never happened.

She didn’t think it was true. Arguably, it was the most untruthful thing he'd ever said to her.

But she wouldn’t argue. Not after yesterday.

He eyed her like it should've been obvious.

“You don’t see it, do you?”

He interrupted just as her lips parted to reply.

“You’ve been here for one week. There‘s things you had to learn on your own. Things that
were inevitable for you to try. And they’ve all been addressed.”

A week. She knew she had been there one week, but hearing it out loud hit even harder.
She shoved it down as her hands tightened out of his gaze, trying to make sense of his
words.

“I told you not to bring up what happened in the bathroom. Not for me, but for us. As long as
you learned your lesson—we'll move forward.”

A heavy pit weighed in her stomach.

“Us.”

She didn’t want to “move forward”— or anything with him.

If she had it her way, she wouldn’t even be alive.

But the quiet fear that this really would be her forever spoke for her, fearfully muttering what
he hadn’t said.

“But you’re still going to hurt me.”

His head tilted slightly, his face unreadable.

He didn’t skip a beat.

“Far less than anything you’d do to yourself if I let you.”

She blinked once as his words settled over her, reaching for her plate before tears could
form.

It landed deep in her chest, hidden and filed into a cabinet she refused to name.

As much as her mind spiraled, forever was something she refused to let herself truly think
about.

She couldn't.

Not here. Not with him.

______

She pushed her plate aside the moment he was satisfied with how much she ate, careful not to
knock the puzzle to the floor.

“Good girl.” He nodded as he looked over her plate. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

She was tired.

But she also knew what her mind would spiral to if she was left alone, lying there to fall
asleep with nothing else to do.
“I’m not tired,” she said too quickly.

It sounded too close to her refusal to eat the day before, her mind immediately flashing with
the memory of restraints before he could even respond.

“I just—“ she cut off her own words. “…I ate too much to sleep.”

She waited for the inevitable shift.

But he stood up instead, slowly crossing to her without a word.

She flinched as his hand found her cheek, small and imperceptible but enough for him to
feel.

“That’s fine, sweet girl.”

His thumb gently traced under her eye before falling away.

“You don’t have to sleep just yet.”

He reached for her arm and pulled her to her feet, careful to avoid her bandage.

She stood, letting him lead her towards the bed as if it were muscle memory.

He secured her wrist back to the frame, giving the cuff a small tug before taking a step back.

“Stay and rest.” He said as if she had a choice. "I’ll get you a new book.“

She pressed her feet onto the ground where she sat, hiding the sense of gratefulness stirring
beneath her confusion.

“And maybe,“ He murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, “One day you can
earn coming upstairs with me to pick out your own.”

Her fingers curled in the mattress.

She didn’t like what it implied for her.

One day. Earning.

But she was careful to still acknowledge him, tired and detached eyes following his
movements as he carried her breakfast plate back up the stairs.

The door shut without another word, the ghost of his fingers still lingering on her cheek.

____

The basement air went still, the sound of the door louder than the breath she held in.
She still didn’t know what to make of it.

Asking didn’t work. Staying silent didn’t work, and she already knew where the defiance she
was too tired to give would get her.

Still here.

He returned with a book under his arm not long after, her eyes finally tearing away from the
blank stare she’d kept across the room.

His eyes raked over her as he set the book on the stand within her free arms reach, his voice
coming as even as it did moments ago.

“Do you need anything else?”

She shook her head once.

“Alright.” He nodded before reaching for her finished book. “I’ll let you rest.”

It never came.

She laid in the silence long after he left instead, cheek pressed against the pillow as she
counted random things around the room.

The lines on the wood of the stand.

The cushions on the couch.

The number of drawers on the cabinets.

It never changed.

The faint rustle of fabric muffled her ear as she repositioned herself, slowly tracing the edge
of the cuff with her finger.

If she stayed still enough, she couldn’t feel it anymore.

Sometimes she tricked her mind into believing it, that she was fully capable of getting up and
walking right out of the door.

But the cuffs weren’t her only restraint, and neither was he.

Her thoughts were making her feel just as trapped, tipping dangerously closer to what she
didn’t want to think about.

She gazed up at the spine of the book he’d given her, pulling it down and setting it next to
her.

Her fingers idly traced the lettering before opening to the first page.
The words were just enough to drown out her thoughts, sentences and phrases she didn’t
connect with slipping by like time.

Her eyes moved so her mind wouldn't, not catching that the lighting on the basement floor
had shifted again.

She didn’t know how many chapters she read.

Enough that her neck ached from staying in the same position, and enough that the words
began to blur.

She blinked hard, dragging her eyes back to the start of the paragraph.

Again, then again.

She didn’t want to sleep.

Days were the time she was supposed to be awake— to be aware that he could return at any
minute.

But the book got heavier, and the weight behind her eyes pressed harder than her will.

She blinked one more time, then the basement disappeared.

____

She stood in a hallway when her eyes opened again.

The walls stretched as far as she could see both ways, long and bare.

She turned.

Behind her, nothing.

Ahead of her, sparse lighting from a source that wasn’t there.

She didn’t know why she moved forward.

Her feet carried her like they’d been there before, even if she hadn’t.

Something told her to move faster.

She didn’t count the seconds or steps she took—time didn’t seem to exist here.

Then, there was a door.

She didn’t hesitate.

Her hand reached for the knob, barely twisting it before safely slipping through to the other
side.

Her back met the door with an exhale she couldn’t feel.

Finally.

A voice broke the silence.

“There you are.”

He stood across from her, calm and still.

Her brows furrowed.

She wanted to ask if she knew him.

A glint of something in her mind tried to tell her something important, remind her of some
moment or feeling that was too far away to decipher now.

But her shoulders relaxed, a long exhale making her breathe even.

His hand lifted for hers.

She didn’t know him.

She didn’t know herself.

But whoever he was, her body was relieved enough to reach.

Maybe she borrowed someone else’s body and forgot to tell them.

She’d give it back to them soon.

___

Her eyes didn’t open right away.

The warmth of the dream lingered, keeping her in the space between partial awareness and
waking.

Silence finally made her open her eyes, slowly fluttering and heavy with exhaustion.

Familiarity sank in.

Dread seeped throughout her body the same way it had every day she’d woken up here.

Only this time he still was there—inside her head like he’d never gone upstairs in the first
place.

She had dreamt about him before.

All of them nightmares, recurring moments of the worst things he’d done to her.

Sometimes she woke up with the feel of his hands around her neck, or the ghost of his hands
pressing into her skin.

Other times the dreams were so intense she woke up hearing how hard her heart was
pounding.

But none of them had been like this.

Nothing with soft stares, a gentle reach, and her fear dissipating the moment she saw him.

That never happened in her waking life.

That would never happen in her waking life.

But instead of nothingness, she dreamt of him.

That scared her more than any nightmare ever could.

______

She hadn’t moved much besides finishing her water, still anchoring herself in what was real.

That he’d taken her—locked her in the basement of his home and treated her like just a
belonging.

Her free hand kept the book open in her lap as she sighed soft, head falling back against the
wall.

She didn’t cry. She just let herself sit in defeat, lost in her mind with nowhere to go.

Even now, she grappled with her failed plan. The thought of death would’ve been
comforting.

But it wasn’t accessible to her, and she knew he’d do everything he could to keep it that way.

The door opened then, almost as if on cue.

She kept her eyes on him the entire time, eyeing the new plate in his hand.
He set it down on the coffee table then approached her, her skin softly pricking as he got
closer.

“I thought you’d want a snack.”

She didn’t know what he wanted her to say.

Thanking him for giving her something that was a bare minimum requirement to keep her
alive was the last thing she wanted to do.

He spoke again, reaching to take the handcuff key from his pocket.

“I figured you wouldn’t want much.” He unlocked the restraint before straightening up. “Did
you sleep?”

She nodded and averted her eyes from his, as if he could tell what she dreamt about solely
from looking at her.

“A little.” she murmured.

“Here.” He reached out and took the book from her lap.

Her body went rigid for a moment, muscles relaxing when his hands pulled away to put the
book on the stand.

“I’ll stay with you while you finish your snack.”

She pushed herself to her feet, moving to sit on the small carpet without resistance.

Her snack was simple this time, sliced red apples cut clean and even.

Somehow he was right that she wasn’t hungry enough to eat a full meal.

But she refused to give him the satisfaction, even to herself.

She picked up a slice before he sat, taking a small bite then setting it back down lightly.

“Not a fan?” He lowered onto the couch across from her, a faint lilt of concern in his voice.

“No,” she replied softly. “I just—“

She didn’t finish her sentence, because she didn’t know how.

Just found the taste of something sweet to be jarring?

Just didn’t want his kindness?

Just wanted him to tell her what this all meant?

All true. And all things she couldn’t say out loud.
“You don’t have to eat right now.” He gestured to the near completed image in front of her.
“Why don’t you finish your puzzle?”

The same regretful gratitude that he didn’t push loomed over her again.

She agreed with a short nod, fully letting her mind drift to nothing as she reached for the
unsolved pieces.

He was still close, still in her presence, still could’ve changed his mind at any moment.

The silence hung between them, but this time she didn’t listen.

Her mind was quiet as she reached, hands moving as if they'd done this exact puzzle a dozen
times before.

Maybe it was the rare mental stimulation, or maybe it was the fact that the past version of her
was actually good at this.

For the first time all day, she didn’t let herself think.

____

If she had learned a single thing in life, it was that good things didn't last.

Her mind shifted away from nothing and back to her body, finally scanning over a physical
checklist.

She was a bit hungrier than she thought. Her leg had gone numb from sitting in the same
position. She had to use the bathroom.

They weren’t entirely unsolvable.

But the last one required that she not only acknowledged him, but also asked permission.

She placed another piece and finally looked up at him, lips parting to ask if she could step
away.

“You’re allowed to use the bathroom sweet girl.” He cut in before she could say it.

She distinctly recalled a time he made her beg for it, mouth closing as she wondered how he
knew what she was thinking.

“You’ve been fidgeting for the past five minutes.” He observed.

She hadn’t even known she’d done it.

“Go ahead.” He gestured to the bathroom. “I’ll be right here.”

She stood slowly, waiting for him to change his mind.

Her hands pressed the edge of the shirt flat against her thighs as she walked, only slightly less
apprehensive than she’d been all day.

Maybe he did mean it when he said they would move forward.

She didn’t rush.

Every part of her was attuned to the fact that he was still there, just beyond the doorway.

She washed her hands longer than necessary, the sound of the running water a poor substitute
for peace.

He was in the same spot when she returned, eyes lifting as she entered.

“All done?”

She nodded once, walking towards the puzzle without a word.

Her legs folded beneath her as she sat, staring at the scattered pieces in front of her.

It was nearly complete now, less than half of the image left. Her hand reached to finish it—
but brushed the cup instead.

Her chest went cold.

A loud clatter sounded through the basement as her cup hit the ground.

She moved to grab and set it upright, but it was too late.

Water pooled far on the floor, spreading onto the ground before soaking into the carpet
beneath the coffee table.

Just like that, an entire day of what barely passed as peace to begin with—gone.

She knew what was coming next.

His anger, his eyes changing to something dark, an accusation that she couldn’t just go one
day without proving how useless she was.

But it never came.

He moved slowly, gently taking the cup from her grasp and setting it on the table.

“It was just an accident,” He brushed his thumb over her inner wrist. You’re fine sweet girl.
I’ll clean it.”

She didn’t nod this time.

Didn’t give a small okay, didn’t thank him for already moving to find a towel.

She turned back to the table, blankly staring in shock before returning to the puzzle.
Within a few minutes, the water was cleaned.

He sat across from her again, towel discarded in the bathroom to dry on the rack.

She’d eaten a few apple slices out of his sight—partially in order to take advantage of not
being watched, partially because she didn’t want to upset him.

Somehow she’d made it this far into the day without doing it.

She glanced down at the puzzle again, fingers hovering over the pieces she hadn’t placed yet.

Still ten left. She always counted when she got to ten.

Whether it was so she didn’t have to face the dissatisfaction of wasting her time on
something that couldn’t fully be completed, or craving the feeling of finally doing something
right on purpose— she didn’t know.

But she always counted.

She picked up one, rotated it absently, then clicked it into place.

Nine.

Her body moved on its own, the final pieces of the image coming together seamlessly.

She was so focused, she almost missed it.

Three…

Two…

Her brows pulled together.

One.

The last piece wasn't there.

Her eyes scanned over the table, her lap, then the rug.

Nothing.

She pressed her lips together in confusion. It was just right there.

Her hand ran under the coffee table, heart ticking up when she realized it wasn’t there.

It was childish. She told herself she shouldn’t have cared so much— but it didn’t help.

She lifted the empty box, her plate, and still nothing.

But it was there. She would’ve known if it wasn’t.

Or maybe, she counted incorrectly. It wasn’t impossible after—

She blinked as his hand entered her peripheral vision.

He held his palm out, her eyes blinking once in disbelief.

The final piece.

Her brow creased slightly with confusion.

“Behind you.” He gestured to the space behind her with his chin. “You must’ve knocked it
over when you spilled your water.”

Her hand slowly rose to take it from him, a small breath escaping her nose.

She suddenly felt… wrong.

Like maybe it was wrong of her to not have thanked him for a single thing he’d done for her
today.

She wasn’t crying, begging, or being taunted.

“Thank you.” she murmured softly, hand rising to his.

Her shoulders slightly relaxed as she placed the last piece and stared at the whole image.

A small cabin tucked away in a wooded area that looked… serene. Secluded. But safe.

His words interrupted her before she could take it in.

“Come sit with me.”

Her heart thudded an extra beat, turning back around to find his hand outstretched.

Empty, waiting for her to take it.

She hesitated for a beat, finally rising on slightly uneasy legs as he helped her to her feet.

Her hands landed in her lap when she sat on the bed, fingers interlocking tight as he pulled up
the chair and sat across from her.

“I have something for you.” He broke the silence after a moment. “But first I want to check
your bandage.”

She paused then moved, slowly raising her arm forward for him to inspect.

He gently took her wrist and undid the bandages, careful to make sure he didn’t pull too
quickly.

“You’re healing well.” He observed as if it was just a scrape.

She nodded even though he couldn’t see it, breath hitching when his hand came to cup her
elbow.

“You don’t need the bandage anymore.” He discarded the used one on the stand.

She stayed silent, watching him inspect her wound like it meant something more to him than
it did to her.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, voice low when it finally came.

“Do you know what I see when I look at this?”

His eyes found hers and stayed there, waiting until she shook her head and murmured a soft
no.

“I see,” He leaned back slightly in the chair, still keeping his grip on her arm. “A girl who’s
got a little more bravery in her than she might think.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came.

Cutting herself didn't feel like bravery.

“Not in the way you’d think.” He explained himself to her disbelief. “Bravery doesn’t look
the same way every time. I think you’re brave—because you took your pain into your own
hands. Even when you were scared. Even though the rest of the world would've told you it
was a bad thing to do.”

She stared at her wound, prominent and healing as he held it up between them.

The words shouldn’t have made sense.

And they didn’t— but the small, worn down part of her wanted to believe them.

She didn’t think it was bravery.

But maybe it was something else.

“I’m not too keen on breaking your skin more than this did,” He pulled away slowly. “But—
if you earn it, I’ll let you do it again.”

Her eyes rose to him, his voice cutting in before she could think about what he’d just said.

“For now, this is yours.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white pill, carefully lifting her hand to drop
into her palm.

”Starting tomorrow, I’ll give the rest of your meds that are left. And then you’ll be done with
them.”
She tilted the pill in her hand, reading the imprint stamped across the white coating. The
letters and numbers weren’t familiar.

“What’s this?” she frowned.

His voice didn't change.

“Just something to help you relax before you fall asleep.”

Her eyes stayed on him a moment too long.

She almost asked again.

But then his hand grazed her wrist, and the memories his touch gave made the question died
in her throat.

“Relax sweet girl.” His voice came almost soothingly. “I wouldn’t give you anything that
doesn’t help you. You’ll relax, and whenever you sleep— it’ll help you stay asleep. That's
it.”

She looked down at the pill again.

It appeared pharmacy grade and prescribed.

Manufactured somewhere far away, where the people who made it had no idea whose hands
it’d end up in.

A small little circle that didn't look like it was capable of much.

She’d taken worse things from him.

Survived his torment, degrading, and raging violence for an entire week.

And he hadn’t hurt her today.

Maybe she earned it.

Or at least, maybe he thought she had.

She couldn’t tell anymore.

She didn’t want to think anymore.

Her hand moved to toss the pill in her mouth, taking the remainder of water in the cup he’d
already gotten up to give her.

The taste was bitter and metallic, fading fast as she swallowed.

Her hand curled into the sheets beneath her, a faint sense of disbelief coursing through her.

It was too late to change her mind.

“How long will it take to work?” her voice came quietly.

He smiled, a small grin she was too dull to decipher.

“You’ll feel it soon.”

____

Soon was too soon.

He moved to grab the rest of her snack from the coffee table, setting the sliced apples on the
bed beside her before telling her to finish them.

“You’ve never taken that before. You should eat something with it.”

She didn’t bother asking what it actually was. It was already in her system.

He leaned back in the chair when she finished the slices, posture relaxed like he was waiting
on the inevitable.

“You got far in your book,” He turned to the stand. “How do you like it so far?”

She blinked and drudged up her memory, recalling every chapter she read right before she
had the dream she refused to think about.

“It was fine.”

He hummed.

“What do you think is going to happen next?”

“I don’t—“ she murmured and rubbed a hand over her eye, “I thought I was supposed to
sleep—“

“The book, sweet girl.” He corrected with a smile, his tone tinged with amusement. “I’m
asking you about the book.”

Oh.

He tilted his head as he watched her closely.

“Feeling okay?”

She nodded immediately, but her head suddenly felt too light.

“m’fine.”

The words sounded perfectly clear in her head, but came out slurred and unsure.
She didn’t realize how much warmth had crept in until it pooled under her skin.

And then he was there, her vision slightly blurred as she tried to blink the haze away.

“You’re warm.”

His voice came soft as his hand rested over her knee, slowly slipping up the hem of her shirt
until his palm traveled further up her thigh.

Her mouth parted to speak, maybe to tell him she was tired, or just to breathe— but his lips
found hers before she could find the words.

She froze.

Her mind went distant the way it had days ago, only this time it was gradual.

Heavier.

Every thought she had came slowly as if they’d traveled through a pool of syrup, barely
attached and too much to hold before slipping away.

She didn’t want to kiss him back, but his hand rose to the back of her head, the weight of it
making her mouth move against his.

She pulled back when his tongue met hers, but he only pulled her in further.

The next breath she took, he was guiding her onto the bed.

Her back sank into the mattress as he followed, the horizontal stillness only making her brain
go fuzzier.

She felt her body absorb the shapes and sounds of the moment, anything it could find that
was steadier than her.

His hands.

His weight pressing into her.

The lips that pulled away to trail down her neck, hand coming to lift her shirt and press open
mouthed kisses over her stomach.

She blinked slowly at the sudden warmth, eyes fluttering open as he slid further down her
body.

Her legs were nudged apart with his free hand before he braced it over her thigh, the other
moving to rub slow circles over her clit.

Her breath caught with a delayed mix of surprise and confusion, knees coming to press
together before he pulled them apart again.
She was too far away from herself to fight him, head softly lolling to the side on the pillow
beneath her.

A thought finally made its way through, sparse and unsure.

Why wasn’t she fighting him? Her hands were free.

Distantly, something said this wasn’t how this usually went.

Bits and pieces of memory flipped through her mind like a dream, all of them rough and
impatient, quickly turning forceful if she protested.

But now it was warmth, something her body craved so much she leaned into it without
knowing where it came from.

His finger slipped inside of her without warning, warmth slipped down her legs as he brought
a second one to join the first.

He made another low sound.

Maybe a groan or a smile or kiss.

“‘So wet for me.”

She felt the faintest kiss to the inside of her thigh, her mind taking apart every letter of every
word until it made sense.

She didn't know long ago he said it, or if it was true.

All her body knew was that it was so light, she would surely float away if it weren’t for his
hands keeping her grounded.

Something began to resurface in her mind, her hands coming to push his wrist away before
she could remember why.

But they were weak and uncoordinated, easily swatted away with a push of his own.

She whimpered out the little amount of fight she had left, hands weightlessly falling to the
side.

The room spun again.

It took a moment for her mind to realize she was on her stomach, a soft exhale escaping her
lips as soon as her head hit the pillow.

His presence grew heavier, shifting over and around her all at once.

Then there was pressure.

Her body remembered it, but her mind couldn’t make sense of what it knew.
She heard him exhale heavily as he moved her beneath him, a faint dullness spreading where
his nails dug into the skin of her hip.

Maybe he was being rough— she couldn’t feel it. But it felt like he held her as if she was
fragile, or something gentle.

His.

An unknown, barely there feeling in her chest tried to climb back up, but her mind defaulted
again.

Whatever he’d given her was good.

So, so good.

A faint whimper echoed around the room, sounding too far away to be her own.

Another thrust.

She felt a sound slip from her own chest, high and broken.

Her fingers curled into the pillow beneath her, awareness slowly seeping back into her.

Where she was.

Who he was.

What he was actually doing to her.

He leaned down to kiss over her shoulder, nose coming to brush over her ear.

If the sounds of the bed meant anything, his thrusts were the exact opposite of the gentleness
he pressed to her skin.

“I’ve got you sweet girl,” His voice was soft against her neck, pressing her wrist back down
before she could fully form the thought to push him away.

His presence melted the air around her, the little flare of awareness drifting away again.

Her wrist relaxed in his grasp, a low curse escaping him before he thrust once, twice three
more times.

And then— a familiar kind of warmth between them.

Her eyes were already half lidded as he leaned down, kissing her temple with a soft murmur
she didn’t hear.

She didn’t move when he got up.

Not when she heard his pants zip, or when he sat back down in the chair across from her.
The basement was quiet.

The sun was leaving again.

The sunset of her seventh day.

He reached for her hand as she lay there, thumb running back and forth over her skin.

Her mind drifted to where she never let it wander, the locked cabinet in her mind finally
unlocking under the haze of the pill.

Every time she collapsed, no matter the good, the bad, or the ugly— he was still there to
catch her.

“What are you thinking about sweet girl?”

His voice was curious, but something told her he already knew the answer.

Her guard clawed its way back a little too late, but just enough.

“I don’t know.”

A lie from a voice that didn’t sound like hers.

But she finally remembered that she didn’t want to let him into her mind, not any more than
he’d already been.

“I’m tired.”

Her eyelids fell heavier as her voice came back more fully.

She couldn’t trust him.

He could turn at any moment, wake up and decide to make her day a living hell.

He was the reason her entire life was a living hell.

She meant to pull her hand away.

But the lull of sleep kept her there, limbs too heavy to move.

His fingers interlocked with hers was the last thing she saw as her eyes closed, anchoring
herself in her truth one more time before she drifted.

She meant to pull her hand away.

She meant to pull her hand away.

She meant to pull her hand away.

Chapter End Notes

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