Give Me Love

chapter forty one

A/n: tw for this chapter! its a little intense and scary.

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 You missed him.

You missed him so damn bad.

The blue of his eyes. The curve of his lips. The honey of his hair tickling your cheeks as you slept all tangled up in each other. The deep, saccharine rumble of his voice when he whispered something for only you to hear, and the way it turned into a growling bark when he grew annoyed with his com constantly buzzing. The way he looked at you like you were everything he never knew he wanted.

You had gotten so little time with him.

How did you get here?

After he died and brought you back, he made you promise to never leave him. And you left him. Time and time again, you left. And even though it wasn't your fault most of the time, it didn't change the fact that you did.

You hurt him.

Maybe that's why he wasn't coming for you.

Blinking at the dull rays of sunlight sneaking in through the window, limp on the mattress before your father collected you for the day of study, you contemplated all of this.

The night before was a hallucination. The window wasn't even dewy with rain. He wasn't coming for you.

Your head pounded and a sharp ache twisted in your chest, angry at yourself for building up false hope. You made it all up, and then crashed as a result.

Disappointed. Hopeless.

All of these things swam through your mind, thick like molasses, no doubt the lasting effects of the Triaxoprone, as you slowly woke up. Your father would be here soon.

And he was-- only this time when he pulled your door open, he was dressed differently. A blue gown similar to your uniform, a cap over his hair, and gloves already pulled on-- he was prepped for surgery.

Your stomach lurched in fear, sitting up and scrambling to the corner of the room.

"No. Dad, please, no."

You thought that maybe by calling him 'dad' it would make him feel something, to have mercy on you. But no-- he had never been partial to the name.

"If you cooperate, we can get this done quickly."

"I've had enough! I don't want to do anymore."

"You agreed to these studies, Y/n."

"I agreed to some testing, not being kept prisoner and tortured!"

"This is hardly torture," he grew closer, hands reaching for you. "You won't be conscious for the procedure, anyway."

"I don't want it!" you were slapping his arms away, but he was a lot bigger than you and you hadn't noticed the tranquilizer in his left hand. It stuck you before you could do anything, and your muscles immediately weakened.

"This is what testing entails. You knew that."

Why was he saying this? To soothe his own guilt?

No. He didn't care. He wanted to kill you.

Cold, raw panic filled your veins. The fact that as soon as you were under, he could do anything he wanted to you. Even fulfill his wish to kill you. You might never wake up.

Your muscles were putty, but you scraped up every bit of strength you could muster to fight back. He motioned for the medical droid to come in, and together they restrained you enough to drag you out of your room.