Behind the Badge: Obsession in the Shadows

Good from now on

I felt his grip loosen only slightly as he led me back toward a random room.

Every movement and every breath I took felt monitored and controlled.

My heart still raced, the fresh sting of the carved letters on my skin reminding me that there was no escape. He guided me toward the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

His hand stayed on my arm, firm but not painful as if I might run again at any moment. My mind screamed at me to find a way out, but my body was frozen, too terrified to disobey.

"Sit, he instructed. I lowered myself onto the edge of the bathtub, my hands shaking as I gripped the side of the tub. I watched as he turned on the faucet, letting it run until it was warm before wetting a cloth.

His movements were decided and deliberate. I heard his feet shuffle as he approached me again before he crouched in front of me with the cloth in hand.

"You need to stay still for this," he said quietly, though the edge in his voice left no room for argument. I nodded slightly, not wanting to anger him, and further, I bit my lip to keep from trembling as he gently dabbed the cloth against the fresh wound.

The cool water soothed the cut for a moment. He looked calm, almost disturbingly so, as if this was just another day for him. He cleaned my wound with care, his fingers softly grazing my skin as he worked on cleaning the wound he inflicted.

Something was disturbing about the way he treated me gently and almost tenderly. Once he finished, he leaned back, admiring his work. "There," he murmured to me. "You're clean now. And you're marked so you don't know who you belong to."

I feel his softly brush my cheek with the pad of his thumb. He slowly slipped off his shirt and slid it over me his shirt engulfing me while.

I swallowed hard as my throat felt dry. His words echoed in my mind—*belong to*. I wasn't a person to him; I was a possession. He stood and tossed the cloth into the sink before turning back to me.

His eyes darkened slightly as he looked down at me. "You're going to be good from now on, aren't you?" I forced myself to nod again, not trusting my voice to respond.

He reached out, his hand tilting my chin up, so I had to look at him. His thumb brushed over my lower lip, and his smile returned, cold and controlling. "Good girl. I knew you'd come around."

With that, he pulled me to my feet and guided me out of the bedroom. His gaze swept over me one last time before he turned toward the door. "I'm going to make dinner," he said as if everything were normal.

His eyes darkened as he led me out of the bathroom, his hand wrapped around my wrist firmly. My legs felt shaky beneath me as we walked. When we reached the kitchen, he pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit.

I hesitated for just a moment, but the cold look in his eyes made my decision for me. I sat down, my heart pounding in my chest, watching as he calmly retrieved a length of rope from one of the drawers.

"You're not going anywhere this time," he said. I watched in silence as he tied the rope around my wrists, he tied them to the arms of the chair. Once my wrists were secure, he crouched down and tied my ankles to the legs of the chair, making sure I couldn't move.

"There," he said, standing back to admire his work. "Now we can both relax a little, can't we?" I swallowed hard, my throat dry, as I stared at the ropes around my wrists. My body felt like it was trembling all over, though I tried to keep still, not wanting to provoke him.

He smiled down at me, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face."You're going to learn to enjoy this," he murmured. "You'll see." Then, without another word, he turned on his heel went to the kitchen, and began making dinner.

The sound of a knife chopping filled the room. My wrists tugged uselessly at the ropes. Now and then, he would glance at me and say, You know, this could be so much easier for both of us if you just stopped fighting." I bit down on my lip, refusing to respond. Fear ran rapidly through my veins, but I knew that arguing would only make things worse.

He turned back to the stove. "You'll learn," he continued. "In time, you'll come to accept this. Accept me." My breath became caught in my throat as he casually reached into a drawer and pulled out a carving knife, running the blade along his thumb before setting it beside the cutting board.

The sharp metallic sound sent a shiver down my spine, and I had to remind myself to breathe. He caught my reaction and chuckled softly, walking over to me with the knife in hand.

He looked at the fresh cut on my shoulder. "See this?" He pointed the tip of the blade at the wound. "Every time you try to run, you'll get another one. However, if you're good if you listen, maybe we can avoid that, hm? He told me and the statement brought more tears to my eyes."

I nodded quickly, desperate to avoid another painful punishment. Gregory smiled and returned to his cooking. The minutes stretched on as I sat there, helpless and bound, while he moved around the kitchen like a partner making a meal. It was sick, and twisted, how normal he made everything seem.

He even started whistling, as if I weren't tied to the chair, watching his every move with fear etched in my face. When the food was finally done, Gregory plated two servings and carried them over to the small table.

He set one plate in front of me before he sat down across from me, his eyes never leaving mine. "Eat," he ordered, "You'll need your strength." My hands were still tied to the chair, making it impossible to do as he asked.

Gregory frowned as if he'd forgotten, then stood up and cut a piece of food from my plate, holding it to my lips. "Open," he commanded, his voice gentle but insistent. I hesitated for only a moment before parting my lips.

He brought the fork to my lips and fed me a bite of food. He carefully watches me as I chew and swallow the food. "Good girl," he praised me softly. "See? This can be easy. Just do what I say, and you won't have to suffer any consequences."

I felt tears pool in my eyes as he fed me another bite, and I couldn't see a way out. Not yet. But I would find a way.