Doors open.

You don't mean it.

I blinked again.

Hoping when I opened my eyes again, it would be anyone but him holding me down.

But when I opened my eyes again, he was still there.

Mattheo was still there, his grip on my arms unwavering. His eyes, the same ones that looked so lovingly at me just hours ago, now seemed cold and empty.

I felt a sense of dread wash over me as I met his gaze.

This was not the Mattheo I knew, the one who loved me, who protected me.

This was a stranger.

The same boy who returned to school, and acted like I meant nothing. 

The same boy who left me on my floor.

The product of his father. 

"Mattheo." I whispered, my voice shaking with fear.

His expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to gleam, with a spine shivering glow.

I felt a sense of unease as I gazed into his eyes, trying to find any indication of the Mattheo I knew and loved. But it was like looking into a void, a dark and bottomless pit that seemed to suck the life out of me.

I strained against his grip, trying to break free, but he held me fast. His fingers dug deep into my skin, like cold claws, and I felt a surge of fear course through my veins.

I didn't want to be afraid of him.

But I was.

The air was thick with tension, heavy with the weight of Mattheo's presence. 

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the darkness that surrounded me. But even in the darkness, I could feel Mattheo's gaze on me, like a cold breeze that chilled my very soul.

When I opened my eyes again, Mattheo's face was closer, his breath hot on my skin. "You're so brave," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "I'll give you credit for that."

I looked up at him, trying to read his expression, but his face remained as impassive as ever. His eyes seemed to bore into mine, as if searching for something, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

My whole body was shaking, from the shock, from my injuries, from the pure terror that Mattheo wouldn't be able to fight against his fathers orders. 

Whatever they were.

"Matt," I coughed, "Its me, its yn."

"I know who you are," he scoffed, digging his hands deeper into my arms.

His weight was so heavy on me, my vision was blurred, I felt my own heartbeat in my ears.

His voice was devoid of any warmth or familiarity. It was a cold, detached tone. I felt like I was talking to a stranger, a monster who didn't know me at all.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice again. "Mattheo."

Mattheo's gaze didn't waver, his eyes still searching mine with an intensity that made me feel like an insect under a microscope. "You're just a means to an end," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "a weakness."

I felt a surge of anger and fear at his words, but I knew I had to keep trying to reach him.

I couldn't let him do this.

Something I knew he could never live with.

I couldn't let him kill me.

I had to make him see that I was more than whatever his father put into his head.