𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛

11

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓲'𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓿:

I tried to convince myself not to freak out because...what was the point?

I don't even know where I am
If anyone could hear me
If he's the safest option for me right now
What he would do if I acted irrationally

So, best I play it safe.

He can't keep me here forever.
He can't keep me here forever.
He can't keep me here forever.
He can't keep me here forever.
He can't keep me here forever.
He can't keep me here forever.

That's the only thing keeping me from crying right now.

The fact that
He can't keep me here forever.

I already looked at all the things he got for me a while ago and....if he hadn't taken me and locked me up, I would have made him my best friend.

Because everything in those bags is the nicest stuff I have ever touched in my life and they are all...for me.

Well, now I'm on the floor colouring the Hello Kitty colouring book he got me as I hum to myself.

Then suddenly I hear the sound of the door unlocking again, but it doesn't register to me to snap out of my zoned-out state as I colour.

I hear the heavy footsteps come to a stop and I see the pair of black shoes in front of me again, they tap down twice on the floor and I look up to find me holding a bowl in his hand, I put down my pencil and shift so I am sitting with my legs crossed, looking up at him through my dark eyelashes, a light pout laying on my lips as I see that he doesn't move or do anything.

Suddenly he grasps my chain in his huge, glove-clad hands and starts walking till he is sitting on my bed, tugging me along with him.

I quickly get up, not wanting to crawl or get choked by the collar around my neck, I follow him to the bed.

I watch as one side of the bed dips down as he sits down, the bed audibly groaning under his weight, the opposite side of the mattress lifting up, off of the bed frame at the weight imbalance, making my eyes go wide at the sight.

I don't make a move to sit, not really knowing where to sit, considering that he sat down on the left side of the bed yet somehow he is in the middle of the bed too and the right side is bent up into the air.

He seems to realise the cause behind my hesitance and he shifts so he is sitting more in the middle, grounding his right thigh into the mattress so it does down so I can sit, his thigh muscles flexing under his black dress pants.

He tugs at the chain again, signaling for me to sit down now, so I do.

I sit down next to him, pressing myself into the headboard so I'm as far away from him as I can be in this situation.

He lets go of my chain and gestures the bowl towards me.

I reach my small shaky hands out and grab the bowl from him, then I look down and see that it's cereal, my favourite type to be more specific, and I almost smile....almost, I really want to...but there is nothing to smile about in this situation and besides, how in the world does he know all this stuff about me?

I glance up at him only to find him already staring at me like I'm Aphrodite or something.

'The eyes chico....they never lie'

His eyes are fixed on me with a weird intensity, they burn with desperation, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters to him.

I can see the way his gaze clings to every breath I take. Looking at me like he can see my cells moving.

There’s something warm in the way he looks at me—like he’s not just watching, but devouring me with his eyes

the same look a first-time mom gives her newly born baby the first time she sees them

the same look a pet owner gives to them

the same look a painter gives to his muse as he paints her soul and not her body

the same look shared by elderly couples as one lays on their deathbed.

I tilt my head back down, hoping my long, curly hair is hiding the redness on my face.

And I slowly but surely pick up the spoon.