5. Brandon

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The silence is overwhelming.

I have always liked quiet. With my head already filled with chaos, I have never craved it. But today, the silence feels dense and oppressive. It weighs on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The walls seem to close in, the shadows creeping closer, as if they're alive and intent on swallowing me whole.

The clock on the wall ticks away, each second echoing like a hammer striking, yet it only adds to the silence, amplifying it rather than breaking it.

I try to focus, to find comfort in the familiar hum of my mind, but even that feels distant, as if my thoughts are slipping away, leaving me with nothing but the emptiness. My heart begins to race, a frantic rhythm that clashes with the steady ticking of the clock.

It has only been an hour at max if the setting sun light is something to go from. But to me, it feels like it has been hours since I have been tied up. My arms hurt, my shoulder uncomfortably stiff. The need to move my body making me want to struggle against the restraints.

All I want to do is run into Nikolai's arms and hide there forever. To let him kiss me until I pass out. Tp let him have me in any way he wants to. Any way he will have me.

He won't come for you, that voice reminded me cruelly. He would not put any effort to find you. You are not worth it. No one would care. Not Nikolai, not Landon. You are not worth it. You are not worth it.

"Niko will be come. He will come for me." I keep reminding myself again and again.

Nikolai said he liked me and kept chasing me around. I have grown used to having him around so much that now when I'm alone, I'm restless. Like a moth without a flame. I do not know who is more addicted with who now. I hate to admit it but it might just be me.

The cut the knife left on my neck is not deep, the bleeding had stopped but the pain that hits me every time I accidentally move my neck almost makes me blackout.

The door creaks open, and the man returns, his silhouette dark against the dim light. But this time, something is different with him. There is tension in his shoulders, his body stiff with anger so palpable that even I feel it on my skin.

Oh no. This could only mean a few things. And the not knowing what is wrong makes me want to scream.

I hold myself still as I watch the man come closer to me, silent but eyes glinting with a malicious intent, and in his hand, a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

My struggle against the restraints are an instinct. I struggle so hard that I feel my wrists will just fall off but I do not stop. I cannot stop.

The man likes the fear in me. His eyes gleam with malice. "Time to play," he murmurs, his voice smooth and sickeningly sweet, like honey laced with poison.

My mind races, screaming at me to fight, to resist, but my body won't cooperate. The man steps closer, and I catch the faint scent of something chemical, sharp and acrid.

"Please," I whisper, though I know it's useless. I do not even know what I'm begging for. I had promised I would not beg but when faced with this, with something foreign and unknown being injected into my veins, breaks me to a new low.

"Oh, are now we begging?" He laughs. "You know your face is so identical to Landon's that I can almost pretend it is that bastard that I have captured."

That makes me want to throw up. I only share a face with Landon. Nothing else. Landon would have freed himself by now, would have said something like "a king does not beg." But I'm not Landon. I could never live up to him.

The man's smile widens, and without hesitation, taking advantage of my distraction, plunges the needle into my arm. I muffle the scream that threatens to rip out of my throat.

The liquid burns as it enters my bloodstream, spreading like wildfire. The room starts to spin, the shadows growing darker and more twisted. I'm not even sure if it is the drug or my panic attack that is pulling me under.

Panic sets in as the world around me distorts. The walls seem to pulse, breathing in time with my erratic heartbeat. My vision blurs, and I cannot tell where the floor ends and the ceiling begins. Everything melds together into a swirling vortex of colors and shapes, none of it making sense. The man's face looms above me, his features warped into something monstrous.

"You're going to enjoy this," he sneers, his voice echoing in my skull, reverberating off the walls of my mind. "Even if they find you, they won't find much"

I try to focus, to hold onto something real, but it's slipping away. My thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, and the fear is overwhelming. I can feel myself losing control, my grip on reality weakening. The man's laughter rings in my ears, a sound so chilling it makes my skin crawl.

But I will fight it. I cannot lose. Nikolai is waiting for me. Nikolai. Nikolai. Nikolai.

"I'm not done. You have two hundred seventeen lashes on your right eye and two hundred twelve lashes on your left one."

"You...counted them?"

"Almost every night since you stayed over. That's last night's count. Might change today. You tend to lose some on your left eye."

"But why would you count my lashes?" "I love them. They're dark and long and so fucking pretty when you're sleeping. Besides, no one but me can count them, so that's a huge bonus."

I hold onto the smile that had bloomed on his face when he had said those words.

"Don't run away from me again. If you do, I'll flip the world upside down to find you. You're mine now, baby."

I hold onto those words that had forever bounded me to him.

"Come for me, baby. Show me who you belong to."

And I hold onto his possessiveness and his touch.

I hold onto Nikolai even when I'm drowning. He is my anchor, my saving grace.

There are sounds around me. I do not know what is happening around me or with me. Only that I'm fighting and not letting the darkness take me. Someone is yelling, there are gun shots and chaos.

But piercing straight through the chaos is a voice every part of my soul and body called for. My lifeline, my Nikolai.

"Brandon" The sound reaches me. He is saying something else but I don't hear him over the ringing in my ears.

There are hands gently holding me, fingers caressing the cut on my neck, making me wince in pain. The hands withdraw immediately and I must have made a desperate sound for they return to hold my cheek like I'm something precious.

I cannot see anything, only pure darkness. My wrists suddenly lose the tightness around them and immediately, my hand reaches for the one of my cheek, wanting to touch his skin one final time.

I'm sorry. I want to say. But instead, the words that leaves my lips are no those.

"I thought I said I hate it when you call me by my full name"

And then, my hand falls as the ink swallows me whole.

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