Psychotic love

10

"W-what type of game?" I asked him slowly.

"You have to choose that option to know, have you decided?" He smirked.

"I guess I will choose the game..." I said hesitated.

"Perfect" he whispered in my ear before he got up and took something out of his closet.

.-.-.-.-.

Killian leaned forward, a deck of cards fanned out in his hands. His voice was light, almost playful, as he explained, "Think of it as truth or dare. You draw a card—black for truth, red for dare. Simple enough, right?" The smile that curled his lips was all too familiar, the same one that haunted my nightmares. There was an ease to his demeanor, a casualness that belied the darkness I knew lurked beneath.

Truth be told I dont see how this could be a punishment, it's just a game right?

I eyed the cards warily, understanding that with Killian, nothing was ever as straightforward as it appeared. "What happens if I refuse a dare? Or if I don't answer a truth?" I ventured, the words thick with apprehension.

His smile didn't waver, but his eyes hardened, gleaming with a predatory glint. "For every refusal or lie, I will break one of your brother's bones," he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather. Leaning closer, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "And believe me, bunny, I will know if you lie. Don't even try it."

The threat hung heavy in the air, a palpable force squeezing the breath from my lungs. His use of 'bunny'—a nickname that sounded more like a taunt than a term of endearment—chilled me to the bone. I realized then that this game was just another of his twisted tools for control, a way to keep me bound to his will, each card draw a step deeper into his malevolent web.

"Do you draw cards too, or is it only me?" I asked, a flicker of hope sparking within me. Perhaps if he participated, I could glean some information from him, some weakness I could exploit.

Killian chuckled, his eyes locking onto mine with unsettling intensity.

"I'm a fair man, my love. Of course, I'll draw cards as well," he assured, spreading the deck neatly across the table. His voice grew stern, the playful tone evaporating as he added, "But you can't ask me to escape or anything like that. Trust me, that will just piss me off." He gritted his teeth at the mere thought, his demeanor briefly slipping to reveal the fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"Ladies first" he smirked and gave me the deck of cards. I took the card lying at the top.

Black...

It can't be that bad right? He will just ask me a question.

"Truth... how did your parents treat you as a child?" He asked me. I didn't understand why he would ask me that, why would he want to know and why does it matter to him. My relationship with my parents doesn't concern him at all.

"They treat me fine, like any other parent," I said plainly. They didn't abuse me or anything; they just didn't really acknowledge me. And maybe I couldn't blame them—I was probably a difficult child, always seeking their attention.

He pulled out his phone with a swift, calculated movement and dialed a number.

"Break a finger of Ophelia's brother," he commanded into the phone, his voice cold and detached.

"No, no, stop! I'm sorry, please, why did you do that? I answered the question!" I screamed, panic seizing my voice as tears welled in my eyes.

"Yes, but you lied," he said, his tone chillingly calm. "One last chance since you didn't understand the rules. Answer it truthfully."

I swallowed hard, the reality of the situation crashing down on me. "Okay, okay... My parents were always very distant from me. They never really wanted to play with me or read me a bedtime story. It was almost like they were afraid of me..." My voice trembled as I dismissed the thought. "They were probably just busy with work, and I shouldn't have bothered them so much."

"They—they just needed space, and I was always in the way. But over the years, I learned not to bother them with my nonsense. I love them and always will, no matter what." As I confessed the nature of my relationship with my parents, a tear escaped down my cheek unnoticed.

He leaned forward, his expression softening for a fleeting moment as he wiped the tear away with a gentle touch. "You were just a child, you know that, right? It wasn't your fault. They were the adults—they have no excuse for treating you like that. And you were a kid, of course you were going to want their attention. That doesn't make you a burden," he said, his voice unexpectedly tender.

"It's your turn," I whispered, eager to shift the focus from my own turmoil.

He reached for the card at the top of the deck, flipping it over.

Black.

"Truth. Ask me anything, love," he invited, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

Trepidation coursed through me as I considered what to ask. I settled on a question that had haunted the edges of my mind. "For how long have you been watching me?" My voice was barely above a murmur, betraying my fear of his answer. Who knew how long he might have been lurking in the shadows, observing me?

A nostalgic smile played on his lips as he reminisced. "I first met you when you were 6, and I was 8. I've loved you ever since that day at the park. Ever since then, you've been on my mind," he said, his eyes softening at the memory.

"Tell me more about it." I asked him. I needed to know more about this whole situation, because the more he say the more confused I get. It's like he only tells me half of the story.

"You have already asked your question. It's your turn now."

I nervously take the card lying at the top and flip it over.

Red...

Dare...

"Dare love, how unlucky. For you" he taunted me.

"Just tell me what you want me to do so it can be over." I rolled my eyes.

"Kiss me"

.-.-.-.-.

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