Behind The Broken Window - Felix Centered Short Novel

Chapter 2

Consciousness flickered back to life, bringing a throbbing ache in its wake. Felix blinked, vision slowly focusing on a ceiling adorned with fluffy clouds and pastel stars. Panic clawed at his throat as he took in his surroundings. The room wasn't a sterile cell he'd feared, but a bizarre parody of his own bedroom. Every surface was plastered with his face – posters, dolls, even plush toys that mirrored his signature sunshine smile. A suffocating wave of terror washed over him. This wasn't a random kidnapping; it was the work of his creepy fan, the one whose admiration had curdled into something far more twisted. He was no longer just a star; he was a captive audience in a deranged play.
The plush monstrosity resembling Felix leered down from the shelf as the door creaked open. A wave of nausea hit him as the man from the meet and greet entered, his smile wider than ever.
"Felix," he cooed, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I'm Blake. Welcome to your new home."
Despite his imposing stature, Blake moved with an unsettling lightness, his every step silent on the plush carpeting. Felix fought against the rising tide of terror, the sickeningly cute decor only amplifying his fear.
"Wh-what do you want?" Felix stammered, voice hoarse.
Blake's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of something dark in his eyes. But then it was back, wider and more chilling than before.
"Don't you want to be with your biggest fan, Felix?" Blake said, his voice a chilling parody of a question. "Here, you'll never have to perform again. We can just be together... always."
The cheer in Blake's voice sent shivers down Felix's spine. Fear choked his throat, making it hard to breathe. He couldn't be here, a prisoner in this saccharine nightmare. Survival instincts kicked in. He had to play along, at least for now.
Blake skipped out of the room and returned with a tray in his hands. There was a bowl filled with tiny pancakes shaped like hearts and a glass of what looked like pink lemonade. He bounced back, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Breakfast time, my favorite star!"
The sight of the cutesy food only amplified Felix's nausea. Any shred of appetite evaporated. "I-I'm not hungry," he mumbled, forcing his voice past the lump in his throat.
The smile on Blake's face faltered, a flicker of something dark replacing the cheer. "But you have to eat, Felix! Strong idols need their fuel."  His voice, once playful, had taken on a sharp edge.
Felix shook his head, his heart hammering. This was it. He'd pushed too far. Blake's hand, surprisingly quick, shot out like a viper, a stinging slap landing on Felix's cheek. The world spun for a moment, the cutesy posters on the wall blurring with the sudden movement. A metallic tang filled his mouth, the taste of blood.
Tears welled up in Felix's eyes, but he blinked them back, forcing defiance into his voice. "Let me go," he choked out, surprising himself with the strength behind the words. "This isn't love, it's crazy!"
The fury in Blake's eyes was terrifying, but a flicker of something else flickered there too – uncertainty.  Felix clung to that sliver of hope, a desperate plan forming in his mind. He had to make Blake believe he could be controlled, bide his time for a chance to escape.
The volatile shift in Blake's mood sent a fresh wave of terror through Felix. One moment he was a raging captor, the next, a lovesick puppy. Blake's hand, the one that had just delivered a stinging blow, reached out again, this time hesitantly stroking Felix's cheek.
"Does it hurt, Felix?" Blake's voice was a sickening coo, the playful edge replaced by a sugary sweetness. Felix flinched, unsure of how to react.  This unpredictable behavior was more terrifying than blind rage.
"N-no," he stammered, hating the tremor in his voice.
Blake seemed satisfied, his smile returning, wider and more unsettling than ever. "Good. Good boy," he crooned, his voice dripping with a possessive fondness that made Felix's skin crawl.
Abruptly, Blake chirped, "I'll be back soon, Felix! We can watch some shows together! Your favorites, of course!"  Before Felix could voice any protest, Blake skipped out of the room, leaving him alone in the suffocatingly cute prison.
The silence was almost worse than Blake's presence.  Felix's mind raced, desperately searching for an escape plan. He had to use this time alone to his advantage.  His eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that could be a weapon or, at the very least, a tool. Hope, a fragile ember, flickered to life in his chest. He wouldn't give up.
A glint of metal caught Felix's eye - a tiny pair of sewing scissors nestled on the bedside table, probably meant for repairs on his plushie tormentors. It wasn't much, but it was his only hope. With trembling hands, he strained against the restraints, the flimsy plastic digging into his wrists. The rickety snip of the scissors on the thick rope was a disheartening sound, but Felix persevered, a sliver of hope growing with each labored cut.
Just as the rope finally yielded, the sickeningly sweet scent of Blake's cologne filled the air. The doorknob rattled, sending a jolt of terror through Felix. He lunged for the flimsy bedside table, desperately trying to shove it in front of the door as Blake barged in, a manic grin plastered on his face.
"Felix! What are you doing?" Blake's voice, laced with a dangerous edge, sent chills down Felix's spine. The flimsy scissors clattered to the floor, a pathetic testament to his failed escape attempt. Felix was trapped, his heart hammering against his ribs as he braced himself for Blake's next move.
The air crackled with tension as Blake loomed over Felix. Thinking fast, Felix seized on the opportunity.  "Actually," he stammered, forcing a nonchalant tone, "I was just trying to get to the food. Since my hands are tied and all."
A surprised blink flickered across Blake's eyes. The manic edge to his smile softened, replaced by a smug satisfaction.  "Of course, how silly of me! How could I forget? A star needs his fuel!"  He bent down with exaggerated theatrics, scooping up a bite-sized pancake.  Felix recoiled instinctively, but Blake, with surprising gentleness, brought the food to his lips.
The humiliation burned in Felix's throat, hotter than the sugary syrup drizzled over the pancake. But as he chewed, a desperate plan began to take shape. He had to play along, feign cooperation until he saw his chance.
Night painted the window black as Blake returned, a triumphant glint in his eyes. He rummaged around the room, reappearing with a plush blanket and a sickeningly large stuffed animal version of himself. With a forced cheer, he announced, "Time for bed, my love!"