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You had learned quickly how to avoid them, the punishments.
So, here you were. Your life was what one would consider luxury, what you continued to think of as a gilded cage; you stayed here, letting him lavish you in affection, isolated from the world, from what you loved more than anything.
You let him baby you, making your food, tucking you in at night, doing your hair. You let him do what he wanted, and you supposed what he wanted was to take care of you.
If you didn’t let him, you’d be tied to the bedpost again, and that way you’d have almost no other option but to let him take care of you.
He loved you, he said. He said it all the time. He said it while you were sitting together, while he kissed you, while he killed your best friend.
After that you ran, and were tied up for the first time. You found a pattern every time afterward. You learned to live by a few rules:
Let him love you.
Don’t run away.
Don’t try to kill him.
You never actually broke the third one; that was someone else’s unfortunate mistake. It cost them their lives on top of much more. You didn’t want that to happen to you.
“I’m home!” you heard a voice shout. Looking up from your book, you stood up. As he walked into the room and wrapped his arms around you, you squeezed him back. You wished it could kill him; you wished you weren’t reciprocating his affection. He pressed his lips to the top of your head. “How was your day?”
These kinds of days were your favorites; the kinds where he wasn’t home, where he was completely occupied with something else. Of course he still called every now and then- and of course you were expected to pick up the phone or else he’d jump back right away (that did happen once- but you were alone. All alone; you didn’t have him breathing over your shoulder every two seconds.
But you couldn’t say that. That would get you in trouble.
“I missed you,” you whispered instead, hoping you didn’t give yourself away. You could feel him smiling into your hair. All clear.
~*~
You were screaming. He was shushing you. The body was silent.
“No no no no no,” you sobbed. There he went. Your other best friend. “No, please. Please tell me you didn’t just do that.”
“It’s because I love you, Sweetheart; and you love me. This is just a little bump in the road.”
“No, Five! I don’t love you! I never did! Ever! At any point in time; you killed everything. You took everything from me!”
You didn’t even register what you said until you said it. You really only realized the gravity of it when his arms became rigid around you.
The body was silent, as was the rest of the world.
You didn’t breathe; he didn’t move; no one spoke.
“Well then,” he hissed, his arms softening around you slightly, but tightening, bringing you into his chest. “That might pose a problem. Clearly, some things are going to have to change.”
~*~
You woke up later than normal. Your alarm didn’t ring or anything. You just woke up.
Immediately remembering the events of the night before, you looked toward the headboard. Like you expected, your wrists were bound to it, but there was something a lot different about the ropes. They were softer, not likely to leave bruises.
“I never liked how you set an alarm,” Five spoke. You didn’t even notice him walking through the door. “It disrupts your sleep.”
“I liked waking up at that time.”
“Your body didn’t. So, I turned it off.”
You just nodded, careful. He could see that, and you swore you saw a hint of pride flash in his eyes for a second. “I’m not going to hurt you, baby. That’s not how this is going to go.”
“How will it be going, then?”
He smiled slightly, as if he wanted you to ask that question. He moved toward you; you moved away. He sat down right by your ribs, placing a hand on your stomach, allowing his thumb to stroke the bare skin that your hiked-up shirt had revealed.
“Clearly, you don’t love me.” He continued to stroke your skin ever-so gently despite the harsh words that left his lips. “But that’ll change once you see, darling, what I do for you, or what I’ve been trying to do for a while now. But you never really let me, did you? That’s about to change, baby. I’ll be doing everything from now on.”
No.
No no no no no no no.
“I’d uh… I’d rather you not.” You really would rather he not. You’d rather he stay as far away from you as possible.
But that wasn’t happening either.
“That’s too bad, honey. You clearly aren’t suited to take care of yourself. I think it’s about time that you start being taken care of.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s the problem. Now, are you ready for breakfast?”
~*~
He tied you to the chair and hand-fed you every bite on his lap.
It was humiliating. And he was planning on doing this for the rest of your days.
You were docile, head on his lap, looking at the TV as he stroked your hair, running his fingers through your scalp.
The clock hit nine.
“Okay, honey, you got to go take a bath.”
You got up to go to the bathroom, not surprised when he followed you.
Of course he was going to do that too. He was doing everything now, after all.
You wanted to throw up.
He scrubbed everything so gently, as if he wasn’t a murderer but an actual attentive lover. He was a murderer.
He was not gentle. He was cunning.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered. “You know that, right?”
He was not gentle. He was cunning.
You hummed, trying to hold yourself back from murdering the man who had called himself yours, and you his.
“I love you so much. You know, I really prefer things like this. It’s how it always should’ve been, sweetheart.”