𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓| 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❦ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ɢᴀᴍᴇ❦

Warning:
Gr*pe/abuse

Over the weeks of being captive,
the days blurred into one another, each marked by the relentless grip of fear and the constant shadow of Mikey's presence.

The miscarriage had left you feeling hollow and broken, a profound sense of loss mingling with the pain of your physical wounds.

Despite the trauma you had endured, Mikey's abuse didn't relent.
If anything, it seemed to intensify, as if he sought to crush whatever fragments of resistance still lingered within you.

Each morning, you woke up in the same room, your body aching from the bruises that decorated your skin like a grotesque map of your suffering.

Mikey's moods were unpredictable—sometimes he was eerily calm, offering false kindnesses that made your skin crawl.

Other times, his rage was swift and brutal, leaving you gasping for breath and clinging to consciousness.

You had to survive, not just for yourself, but for the memory of what you had lost.
You had to find a way out, no matter how impossible it seemed...

'I need to see Takemichi...'

You began to observe everything around you with a keen eye, noting the patterns in Mikey's behavior, the routines of the household, and any potential weaknesses you could exploit.

You realized that maybe the best way to regain your freedom was to play along with Mikey's twisted game.

He had shattered your heart, but you could turn the tables and mess with his.

If you could make him believe that you were falling for him, that his control over you was complete, you might be able to gain his trust.

Once he felt secure, perhaps he would grant you more freedom,
allowing you to roam the house with fewer restrictions.

And then, when he least expected it, you would make your escape.

You would flee and never look back. But the plan required careful execution.

You had to be cautious; if you were too affectionate too quickly, Mikey might become suspicious and pull away, tightening his grip even more.

Balancing your act was crucial.
You needed to find the right moments to show vulnerability, to express gratitude, to feign a growing affection without overplaying your hand.

Holding a conversation with Mikey for even ten minutes was a challenge.
He was often a man of few words,
his silence a stark contrast to the violence he could unleash.

His moods were unpredictable,
and he rarely opened up about himself or his feelings.
This made it difficult to gauge how well your plan was working or how close you were to gaining his trust.

Today felt odd though.

The penthouse was eerily quiet, a stillness that hung in the air like a
heavy fog.

The usual sounds of bustling activity, the distant hum of city life filtering through the windows, were conspicuously absent.
It was as if the world outside had paused, leaving me alone in this oppressive silence.