𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘

𝐗𝐋𝐈𝐈𝐈 ━ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰

chapter forty three
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All (Y/N) felt was determination.

Three days ago when Kane visited, and three days ago when he had vanished after leaving the apartment, she had already had an inkling of a thought of how dangerous Devon truly was. Now, her eyes were truly opened to just how right she was. In fact, with the time that she spent alone, chained to Devon's bed, she had time to think, and with those thoughts, all were dark. Dark enough to wonder if he were behind all the deaths around her she had been painfully subjected to.

So, the next time Devon walked in, she asked.

"You killed my mother, didn't you?" She uttered without hesitation as she followed his approach with her eyes, watching the way he seemed to falter before resuming his task in setting down her breakfast tray and water. "Didn't you?"

Devon stared at her emotionlessly.

She stared back, unflinching.

"No," he finally uttered as he once more pulled that key from his pocket to unlock one of her cuffs before pulling back, unaware of the way her gaze lingered on said key. "Hers was purely an accident. I had no involvement in that."

"'Hers?'" (Y/N) quoted, her eyes at his word choice. "What do you mean by that? Did you... have something to do with Dante and Kane?"

Devon didn't answer right away, instead falling uncharacteristically silent, something that made her inhale sharply. After all, even though he wasn't admitting to the deeds, he didn't have to. The look in his eyes was evidence enough for her, and the silence spoke volumes more than his words ever could. She could feel her lips trembling as she looked away from him, willing herself not to crack—not yet, at least, not when she still had much to do.

"Why are you even asking these things?" Devon finally questioned.

"Why do you think?" She muttered, keeping her eyes down on the silk bedsheets, swallowing down the curses she wanted to throw his way for taking away the two boys whom she was closest to. "You hurt me, and then chained me up. It's not rocket science connecting the dots."

He scowled at her words.

She didn't care, for she wasn't even looking his way, her jaw working as she grit her teeth.

Stay calm.

Stay calm.

Stay... calm.

Calm.

Just be calm.

She repeated these words over and over in her head like a mantra, willing the strain from her tense muscles when all she wanted to do was lash out and tear Devon apart for what he had taken from her. Instead, she kept herself calm, as she knew getting angry would do nothing for her situation. All she did was grab the tray and drag it closer to her so she could eat, ignoring the way Devon's stare burned into her very form.

Finally—and thankfully—he left.

Swallowing down her food, finding that it was now tasteless to her despite how in any other situation, she would find it delicious, she glared at the door where he had vanished.

He killed them.

He killed Dante...

And he probably killed Kane, too.

He said he didn't kill my... he said he didn't kill mom, but how can I believe him?

After everything?

Curling her fingers into tight fists, so tight the edges of her knuckles turned white, (Y/N) gripped the bedsheets with her one free hand, bunching the fabric into a tight ball to release the stress that had steadily been building until she felt as if it were about to snap. There was only so much she could do to reign in her hatred, and the longer time went on, the harder it was becoming. Therefore, the harder it would be to implement her plan.

She had to keep going, though.

She had to.

To be strong was to keep the memories of her mother, Dante, and Kane going.

She couldn't fizzle out now.

She couldn't.

So, (Y/N) kept true to this ordeal as she struggled forward one second at a time, one minute at a time, one hour at a time, to one day at a time.

She theorized that she had been strung up to Devon's bed for about four days considering how many times he had brought her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Not only that, but the meals he prepped for those three so tables allowed her to know what time of day it was regardless of the curtains covering the windows. It was a small amount of relief, but not much. She kept quiet each time Devon came into the room, and while she didn't respond to his urges, she didn't lash out at him either. It made her wonder what he was thinking, but she knew that to him, the silent treatment that she was giving him was better than kicking and screaming.

It had to be.

It was how she knew it wouldn't be long before his guard would drop.

And she was right.

Devon was driving himself half crazy trying to coax (Y/N) to talk to him, to look at him, to at least to acknowledge him, but all efforts were futile. She sat there, emotionless, only ever moving to eat the door and drink the water he had given her. She was starting to look more doll-like than human, and it was something he was starting to loathe. Yes, it meant that she was kept within the safe confines of his home, but he wanted more than just that.

He wanted her affection.

He wanted her attention.

Really, he wanted her love.

All of it.

As selfish as it was, he hardly saw any problem with his views on love, and considered it to be quite a reasonable demand after everything he had gone through and done for her. Yet, it seemed that gaining said love was proving to be more difficult than expected, and the fact frustrated him more than it should. Then again, he had always been a patient man, so he would just have to be patient some more. Yet, day by day, he could feel his patience wavering whilst his desperation only grew.

It doesn't matter.

(Y/N) will come to understand.

No matter what it takes, I cannot have her looking at anyone but me.

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To be continued...