Warning: Kidnapping, Self-mutilation, implied rape, depression, self-loathing, self-harm, suicide
I'm having a blue day lol. I just wanna lay down and cry for no reason.
The dim, cold light of the basement filtered in, casting faint shadows across the concrete floor. Rody sat hunched on the thin mattress that Vincent had lovingly set up for him, his eyes weary and haunted. It had been two years since he’d felt the warmth of sunlight, two years of seeing only Vincent’s face, hearing only Vincent’s voice. His will had worn thin, but he held onto the last scraps of his defiance, clutching them like lifelines.
The door opened with a slow, creaking sound, and there was Vincent, beaming like a child with a gift in his hands. He stood in the doorway, his dark eyes glinting as he clutched a tray laden with food. “I made something special for you,” he announced, his tone buoyant and tinged with something else, something that hovered on the edge of desperation.
Rody barely glanced up, but Vincent didn’t seem to mind. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and moved to kneel in front of Rody, placing the tray carefully between them.
“Look,” he said, pointing to the intricately plated dish. “It’s your favorite… isn’t it? I made it just the way you liked.” Vincent’s smile trembled as he searched Rody’s face for any hint of affection, any sign of appreciation. But Rody only stared, his face blank.
Vincent’s smile faltered. “Don’t you like it?” His voice had taken on a faint, wounded edge. “I spent all day working on it… for you.”
Rody sighed, his gaze dropping. “Vincent… please. Let me go. I don’t… I can’t live like this.”
That broke something in Vincent. His hands trembled, and a strange, pained smile stretched across his face. He laughed—a brittle, hollow sound. “Oh, Rody… after everything I’ve done for you? I’ve been the perfect lover! I cook, I take care of you, I give you everything you need… everything!” His voice cracked, and he leaned closer, his face inches from Rody’s. “What am I doing wrong?”
Rody’s voice shook. “You… you can’t keep me here. This isn’t love, Vincent. This is…” His words failed him, his throat tightening.
“No,” Vincent cut in, his voice shrill with panic. “You don’t understand. I love you, Rody. I *love* you! No one has ever made me feel the way you do. And I know… I know you feel something too. You just… you just don’t see it yet.” His hands reached out, caressing Rody’s cheek, his touch cold and possessive.
Rody flinched away, but Vincent held his face firmly, fingers digging into his skin. “I know I’m not good enough for you. I know… I’m… broken. But I can change, Rody. I can be better for you.” His voice softened, his eyes wide and shimmering with tears. “Please. Just… just tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
When Rody stayed silent, Vincent’s mood shifted again. He pulled back, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. “Maybe… maybe it’s because I’m not pretty enough. Is that it?” His eyes were wide and pleading, and his mouth twisted into a crooked smile, his laugh brittle.
“Vincent…” Rody murmured, horrified. “That’s not… that’s not what this is about.”
“No, no, I get it.” Vincent’s tone turned disturbingly chipper, his gaze distant as he seemed to talk more to himself than to Rody. “I’ll make myself prettier. I’ll dress up, I’ll wear makeup. I’ll be everything you want. You’ll see.” His smile stretched, a fragile, trembling thing that barely held back his anguish. “You’ll love me then. I just… I have to try harder. That’s all.”
He reached out and took Rody’s hand, gripping it tightly. “You’re all I have, Rody. No one else… no one else has ever been this kind to me. You smiled at me… you told me I looked nice. No one ever said that to me before. You made me feel like… like maybe I was worth something.”
