Neighbour

[ 9 ].

The moment Simon first steps into the room, your senses falter and fail to immediately recognize the man standing before you. As your eyes unwillingly land on an imposing figure, dressed entirely in black with a sinister skull mask obscuring his features, a scream erupts from your throat, only to be stifled by the tape on your mouth. Each deliberate, heavy step he takes towards you seems to echo ominously, causing your already terrified body to coil tighter in fear. The tension knotted in your muscles is pulled so taut; it feels as if it's on the brink of snapping , like a wire stretched past its limit.

Desperately, you attempt to convince yourself that this is not real. You try to imagine that it's only a nightmare. A mere figment of your overactive imagination. But when Simon sits on the edge of the bed and the mattress creaks under his weight, the sound resonates with a harsh reality that shatters your hope. It's at this moment that you know, without a shadow of a doubt, it's as real as the air you're struggling to breathe.

His large, gloved fingertips trail slowly, almost delicately, under your quivering jaw before curling around your chin with an assertive forcefulness that brooks no resistance. His grasp is unyielding, forcing you to meet his gaze, to look into his eyes.

"It's a shame our little fling has to end like this," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes across the rough surface of the tape, tracing the curve of your lips hidden beneath.

Your body instinctively shrinks away from his touch. A fresh wave of tears, akin to a looming storm cloud, wells up in the corners of your eyes, threatening to surge forth, ready to cascade down your already damp cheeks.

Before, his hands on your skin, his fingers caressing and kneading your flesh, his lips exploring the contours of your body—all of it kindled a fire inside you, leaving you yearning for more, consumed by a craving that was insatiable. But now, all you want is to repel him, to shove away his touch, to erase all memories of the times you willingly got in his bed.

At first, you fight back. Your body convulses and shakes violently on the bed as you try with every ounce of strength to let out a scream, to somehow make him back off. You grit your teeth, your muscles straining as you fight against the bindings. But as the struggle continues, a crippling exhaustion seeps into your limbs. You come to a grim realization that your efforts are in vain—there's not much, if anything at all, that you can do while bound.

The only reason you force yourself to regain your composure, to calm your racing heart that is pounding against your ribcage like a wild animal in a cage, is the small glimmer of hope that shines in the darkness. If Simon has any intention of moving you out of here, out of this dimly lit, fear-soaked bedroom, he will have to untie your wrists from the headboard. And when that moment comes, you plan to seize that fleeting opportunity to make a run for it, to escape from this hellish nightmare.

You notice Simon incessantly glancing at his phone. His eyes flicking to the screen every few seconds. You can practically feel his mounting frustration, his rapidly dwindling patience filling the space with an oppressive tension. But then, the faint sound of a car pulling into the driveway penetrates the silence, causing him to spring to his feet. Your heart drops like a stone in your chest and your eyes widen in terror, your back suddenly slick with a cold, clammy sweat. Whoever he's been awaiting, whoever he's been so impatiently expecting, has now arrived, and you can't help but dread what happens next.

In a swift movement, Simon pulls out a blade, twirling it in a nonchalant manner between his fingers as if it were nothing more than a toy. The incongruity of the situation - the casual display of the weapon - momentarily stuns you. He then presses the cold metal against your throat. The chill of it seeps into your skin. You're too afraid to even breathe, your instincts screaming at you to pull your head back, to get as far away from the blade as possible. But his hand clamps onto the back of your neck, keeping you firmly in place against your frantic efforts.