The Bleeding Rose

Secret Suprise

The remainder of the first week came and went, or, Riddle thought so at least. He couldn't tell anymore. He had quickly discovered that the window in the room was a fake, the sun never setting or rising, always hanging high up in the afternoon sky. Then there was the clock that had been replicated from his real room, that never ticked by. Its digital red glow forever flashing 00:00. The only way he could track the time was when Lyndsy would come in asking if he wanted breakfast, leave, and come back asking if he wanted dinner.

He had refused every offer she brought to him for only the first 3 breakfasts, but by the 4th day his stomach felt as if it had been eaten away. Fatigue and weakness from a combination of starvation and her 'love' sessions robbing him of his ability to think. Feeling as if he was trying to comprehend the thoughts and words floating around in his head through a thick fog. 

"Come on Riddle, you love me, just trust me when I say it. Just say you love me and this can all stop"

"I...I"

"Yes?"

"I th'nk you...need to ackno'ledge, that perhaps, you are in the wrong" Riddle quipped out, his words slurred. She groaned in annoyance, her annoyance flashing to rage like the flick of a switch. The palm of her hand slamming into his cheek. He grimaced but quickly regained his composure. 

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Even after he had caved when it had come to meals, he still would often be running on fumes. Lyndsy would leave in an angry huff whenever he had said something wrong or didn't agree with her. And when she left angry, she forgot to come back more often than not.

Even then, when she did bring him food, it was always vile. There was always something off with it. He swore he even saw mold on a piece of bread once. Soup still holding chunks of ice in it. Meat not fully cooked. It was some odd miracle that he hadn't fallen ill yet. Though he was sure if he kept playing this Russian Roulette of sicknesses he would fall victim to one eventually. 

"Come on Riddle, open wide"

He begrudgingly obliged, a rage boiling under his skin like a fire had been lit upon his every nerve. 

She wouldn't untie him, and the one time he dared to question her about it, he ended up with a throbbing left foot and another bruise to meddle with all the other ones. Making eating an excessively difficult and embarrassing task. He would have to be spoon fed every meal. Lyndsy coddling him as if he were a baby that needed her to survive. Like she was some kind of god to him. 

It was revolting.

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She had come waltzing in today, seemingly with no particular purpose. She simply sat on the bed and talked for longer than he cared to pay attention for, rambling on about some TV show she liked, then about the fact she didn't care all that much for certain foods. Then after sitting for what felt like eons, she finally pushed herself up off of the bed, mussed with his hair, patted his cheek and left.

Thank the seven she's finally gone, he couldn't take another minute of her hollowed stare borring into his soul. Not just that, but he felt as if he could sleep for years, the mental and physical exhaust of having to force himself awake while she was hanging over him constantly.

He couldn't sleep around her, even if he tried. At first he stayed awake because he didn't like the idea of her coming around while he was sleeping. But more recently, when it had become much harder to stay awake for extended periods of time, she would force him awake. Once he fell asleep while she was talking, and she didn't feed him the rest of the day, yelling at him for ignoring her when she was talking.

His stomach hollowed out at the thought of all those missed meals. A quiet whimper that crumbled in his mouth came pushing its way through. Curling in slightly into his stomach, begging it to forget how hungry he was.