Black Iris

His toy.

Warning:
Chapter contains sexual assault, gaslighting and emotional abuse.

Iris

The night after the episode at my mothers, Blake was painfully silent.

I pleaded with him to tell me where Jackson was, whether he was safe, then, when that didn't work, I dissolved into how sorry I was for bringing my mother into this, and apologised over and over for what had happened.

But he gave me nothing. Not even a glare.

It was as though I didn't exist.

He walked about the apartment not acknowledging me, or taking note of my presence. He ordered dinner for himself, and ignored me when I asked if he'd gotten me any. Then he ate it in silence, his face set in a look of annoyance. As though he was the one that deserved to feel angry.

It was only once he finished eating and stood up to take the dishes to the kitchen that he spoke.

"Due to your fragile mental state, I'm keeping you in the apartment for a few days."

"What?" I said.

He turned to look at me. "Well, evidently you cannot be trusted to behave outside of these walls, so I think it's best you stay here. Wouldn't you agree?"

I stared at him. "No," I muttered, incredulous. "I would not agree. What the fuck, Blake?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Language, my Iris. Or do you need me to remind you of your manners?"

"You kidnapped my son," I spat at him. "Mind your own fucking manners."

His face went dark and in an instant, I knew I'd made a mistake. But it was too late. He wrenched his hand to my head and grabbed at my hair. I cried out in pain, trying to pull away. He just pulled harder, and forced me to my knees in front of him.

"How many times do I have to remind you of your place, my Iris? I swear, if you lash out again like you did today, going to your mothers like that, Jackson won't be the only one going on a little vacation."

I whimpered. "What- what do you mean?"

He tilted my head upward so he was looking in my eyes. "Well it would be a shame if mummy dearest caught onto the fact that your little episode today was all a big distraction, wouldn't it?"

My heart sunk. "Please don't hurt her. She hasn't done anything."

"Well, not yet," He hummed. "Which is why we need to keep it that way. Convince her of your little charade, hey? Stay here for a little while, and we'll tell her you're in a private clinic to recover. Depending on how well behaved you are determines the length of your stay. I, of course, will oversee your treatment. How does that sound, my Iris?"

I didn't answer, terrified of what he was proposing. When I took too long to speak, he pulled my hair again and I cried out in pain once more.

"Okay!" I squealed. "Please, just let me go."

He chuckled darkly. "Oh, that's the thing, my Iris. I'm never letting you go."

And with that, he started dragging me by the hair across the apartment. I stumbled after him down the hallway, wincing and sobbing, until he stopped outside the door to his playroom. The same room in which he had made me almost murder that Canadian girl.

He pulled me closer to him, so that he could whisper into my ear.

"I'm going to fucking break you, Iris."