Chains of Obsession

19

♡Emilia♡

It's been 7 long weeks now. Today, Max will come check on me and then tell me that am I allowed to move around again or not.

It's early in the morning, and I'm already awake, waiting impatiently for Max. My mind is a tangle of worry and impatience. Every day spent in bed has felt like an eternity.

Finally, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching my room. The door opens, and Max walks in, a clipboard in his hand.

"Morning," he says with his usual calm demeanour. "How are you feeling today?"

"I would feel a lot of better if I wouldn't he cuffed to this fucking bed." I reply.

Max's lips twitch slightly, but he hides any amusement he might be feeling with his professional expression.

"We can't take any chances," he says, his tone cool and rational. "You're a high value prisoner, after all."

I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to snap back at him. I know it won't do any good.

"When are you going to uncuff me, then?" I ask, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

Max glances at his clipboard, reading over the notes the doctors have made about my condition.

"When boss allows." He mumbled.

"Then you can go and tell your boss that he can fuck himself." I snapped.

Max looks up from the clipboard, his eyes flashing with unexpected emotion. For a moment, he looks almost frustrated. But he quickly regains his composure, his face settling back into its usual stoicism.

"Watch your language," he says, his voice edged with annoyance. "I'm not the one you should be angry at."

"Fucking idiot," I mumbled as I rolled my eyes.

Max doesn't react outwardly, but I see a muscle tic in his jaw. He's got a lot of patience, and I'll give him that.

He ignores my insult and continues checking my condition.

"How's your pain level today?" He asked.

"0 out of 10." I answered.

Max nods, making notes on his clipboard.

"Have you had any nausea or vomiting?" He asked, casually checking my vital signs with a practised hand.

"Nope." I replied, resisting the urge to make a sarcastic comment.

I want him to uncuff me, after all.

Max's demeanour is as impassive as always as he continues his examination. His touch is light and efficient as he checks my pulse and listens to my breaths.

"You're recovering faster than expected." He noted, his eyes flickering over me appraisingly. "Your internal injuries are mostly healed, and your external wounds are scabbing up well."

"So does that mean I can finally get these damn cuffs off?" I say pointedly, lifting my cuffed hands as much as the chain allows.

Max huffs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll bring it up with the boss," he says, his tone slightly less formal than usual.

He sets down the clipboard, his eyes meeting mine.

"But you need to behave when we uncuff you," he warns. "No trying to escape. This is a privilege, not a right."

I roll my eyes again, barely resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. I'll be a good girl," I say mockingly.

Max shakes his head, almost amused.

Almost.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he mutters before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

And then, I'm alone again, left to my thoughts and boredom in this damn room.