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GENDER NEUTRAL
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Whimpering, you strained against the ropes holding you in place, trying to move away from his hand. He ran his finger across your face, drawing undistinguishable patterns and staring at you, his eye twitching erratically.
You barely had time to react before his other hand moved, leaving a stinging red mark on your cheek.
His hands were cold, soothing the skin where he had slapped you. "You know I hate doing this. You know I do," he murmured, tears building up in his eyes. Why was he crying? He had no right to cry, not after hurting you for his own sick enjoyment. You bit your lip anxiously, trying to keep completely still. The less you moved, the less he would hurt you.
"Answer me." His hands had moved down to your arms, fingernails digging into the skin.
"So-sorry!" you cried out, wincing as he let go, his nails leaving moon-crescent shapes indented into your skin, red and irritated.
Eyes following his movement, you watched as he paced the room, completely silent other than his footsteps, his hands pulling at his own hair. "You know I hate doing this!"
"Y-yes."
For a crazy person, who was capable of killing people (and capable of letting you see said murders), he would break down the exact same way whenever you broke his stupid rules. Every single time, he would hurt you, taking hours just because of his panic after each hit, often needing comforting from you just to stay on his feet. And you had to sit there and take it, watch him lose more and more of his sanity. Your face still throbbed from the pain, and you knew he would cry about it later, pressing an ice pack to your face.
He stopped pacing, falling to his knees and crawling towards you, and you barely held back the disgust that you felt at the sight. Hands grabbed at your legs, scratching, hitting, punching; over and over as he sobbed. "Why...just listen to me and you'll be fine. Just listen..."
Basic human empathy kicked in, and you couldn't help but feel bad for him. His head moved up to rest on your lap, hands finally not scrabbling at your legs.
"I'm sorry."
"You are?" He looked up, and at that moment you couldn't see the crazed maniac he was you could see...Karl. Karl before he went mad over you. Karl when he was just the person you spoke to sometimes, the one who you somehow managed to always run into. "You really are?"
Nodding solemnly, you diverted your eyes, knowing that if you kept looking, you might start believing he was normal.
"Your poor face..." he reached out for your face again, ignoring your flinch and stroking the handprint tenderly. "I'll get an ice pack, ok?" As he left the room, you added something new to your list of "things he doesn't like me doing", knowing that if you could actually write it all down, it would be at least four pages long.
Well, at least now you knew to not lock the bathroom door.
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(A/N-thank you for reading! stay hydrated and safe everyone <33)
