Hellbound (Hazbin Hotel x Reader)

Chapter 55: Are You Still Mad At Me?

As I wake up, I find Vox standing by my bedside, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Despite the passage of time, there's been no softening in his demeanor, no hint of remorse or compassion in his gaze. He watches me with the same detached indifference that has become all too familiar in recent days. I can't help but feel a surge of frustration and anger at his presence, at the reminder of my captivity and the betrayal that brought me here. But beneath the anger lies a deeper sense of resignation, a weariness that comes from days spent confined to this room, at the mercy of forces beyond my control.

Sensing an opportunity to glean some clarity on my situation, I muster the courage to voice my concerns. "So, what happens now?" I ask, my voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. "Once I'm fully healed, what's next?". His response is measured, his tone as detached as ever. "Once you've fully recovered, then we can discuss what comes next" he explains, his words falling short of offering the reassurance I had hoped for. Disappointment washes over me as his words sink in. This vague promise of a future discussion offers little comfort in the face of the uncertainty that surrounds me. I had yearned for a more definitive answer, a glimpse of hope to cling to amid the shadows that shroud my fate. As he maintains his stoic facade, I find myself grappling with a sense of frustration and resignation. It seems that for now, I am destined to remain in limbo, caught between the confines of my captivity and the elusive promise of freedom that lies beyond.

Frustration boiling within me, I snap and challenge Vox's cryptic response. "That answer isn't good enough" I declare, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation. "I need more than vague promises and empty assurances. I need to know what comes next, what your plans are for me". "Don't snap at me" he retorts sharply, his tone laced with irritation. "Val is the one who decides. He's the one who wanted you in the first place". His words only deepen my frustration, but I refuse to back down. Desperate for some semblance of empathy, I reach out, my hand seeking his in a silent plea for understanding. I hold onto his hand tightly, hoping to provoke some reaction, any sign that he still harbors some shred of compassion beneath his icy facade.

He looks down at our joined hands, but there's no softening in his gaze, no hint of the warmth I long for. Instead, his expression remains stoic, his features carved from stone. "You're just going to have to be patient" he says curtly, his voice devoid of any trace of emotion. "I told you, once you're fully recovered, then we'll discuss what happens next". His words are like a slap in the face, a painful reminder of my powerlessness in this situation. I withdraw my hand, feeling a sense of defeat wash over me. Despite my efforts, Vox remains as enigmatic and unyielding as ever, his true intentions hidden behind a mask of indifference. He turns and walks out the door, leaving me in silence again.

It's been a few more days, as the door creaks open, I don't bother turning to see who's entered. The bed shifts slightly as someone takes a seat beside me. I can feel their presence, but I keep my gaze fixed on the wall, unwilling to acknowledge them. Then, Valentino's voice breaks the silence. "Are you still mad at me?" he asks, his tone teasing yet oddly sincere. I sigh heavily, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "Of course I'm still mad at you" I reply, my voice laced with bitterness. "How could I not be?". He chuckles softly, a sound that grates on my nerves. "Ah, come on now, amor" he says, his tone light but tinged with amusement. "Don't tell me you're still holding a grudge". I finally turn to face him, my expression a mixture of anger and hurt. "You betrayed me, Val" I say, my voice trembling with emotion. "Both you and Vox. Especially Vox....". He leans back against the headboard, studying me with a knowing glint in his eyes. "Now, now" he replies, his smirk widening. "You should have known what you were getting into. You can't blame me for you being so naive". His words cut deeper than I care to admit, reopening wounds that have yet to heal. I want to be angry at him, to lash out and demand answers. But deep down, I know he's right. I should've been more cautious, more skeptical of Vox's intentions. "I trusted him" I mutter, unable to meet his gaze. "I thought me and Vox had something real".