The house was quiet after the party, the last of the guests long gone. My parents had retired to their room, and the night was mine again-mine and Sam's. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. She was still curled up where I'd left her, her eyes downcast, her shoulders tense.
"Sammi," I said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "You've been so good tonight. I think it's time we celebrate your graduation."
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and terrified. "C-Celebrate?" she stammered.
I smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek, then her nose, then her lips. "Yes, celebrate. Just the two of us."
She trembled beneath my touch, but she didn't fight. I kissed her again, longer this time, savoring the softness of her lips. She was mine, completely mine, and tonight, I was going to show her just how much she meant to me.
Pulling back, I reached for the chain around her ankle. "Come on, Sammi," I said, unlocking it. "I have a surprise for you."
Her eyes darted to the door, but I tightened my grip on her wrist, making it clear that running wasn't an option. Guiding her to her feet, I led her across the room and into my walk-in closet. She hesitated at the threshold, but I tugged her along, weaving through rows of designer dresses and shoes until we reached the very back.
Sam's confusion was evident as I stopped in front of the hidden door. "What's going on?" she whispered, her voice shaky.
I didn't answer, just pushed open the door to reveal my sanctuary. The soft glow of the lights illuminated the walls, every inch covered in photos of her. Candid shots, school pictures, doodles she'd left behind-all carefully preserved and displayed. Trinkets and keepsakes lined the shelves, each one tied to her in some way.
Sam froze, her breath hitching as her eyes darted around the room. "W-What is this?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
I couldn't help but smile, pulling her closer. "This, Sammi, is all about you. My collection of everything that makes you... you."
Her body went rigid, and I could see the panic building in her eyes. She turned, trying to run back to the bedroom, but I was faster. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pulled her back against me and guided her to the plush chair in the center of the room.
"Sit," I commanded, lowering her onto my lap. She resisted at first, but eventually, she sank into me, her wide eyes glued to the shrine.
As I nuzzled into her cheek, inhaling her sweet scent, I reached for the photo album on the nearby table and placed it on her lap. "Open it," I urged, my voice soft but firm. "I want you to see."
Her trembling hands flipped open the cover, revealing the first page-a picture of her in second grade, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled into pigtails, her freckled face smiling shyly at the camera.
Sam's breath caught in her throat, her fingers brushing over the photo. "This... this is me," she whispered. "How do you have this?"
I kissed her temple, tightening my arms around her. "We've known each other for a long time, Sammi. Since second grade, remember?"
Her head shook violently, denial written all over her face. "No... no, that's not possible. I don't remember you."
I chuckled, brushing my lips against her ear. "Oh, but I remember you. I've always remembered you, Sammi. You were so quiet, so scared. You were perfect."
Her breathing quickened as she flipped through the album, each photo sparking another wave of realization. Pictures of her at recess, walking home, even sitting alone in the library-all moments she thought were hers alone, now laid bare before her.
Then she stopped, her eyes widening as I placed a plush dog in her hands. It was old and worn, but she recognized it immediately. "Mr. Pickles," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "How do you have this? This was mine-when I was little..."
I smiled, stroking her hair as she clutched the stuffed animal to her chest. "I found it after you left it behind one day. I kept it. I've kept everything, Sammi. You're special to me."
Her tears spilled over, her body shaking as she hugged the dog tightly. "Why?" she choked out. "Why are you doing this to me?"
I tilted her face up, wiping away her tears with my thumb. "Because I love you," I said simply. "And because you're perfect when you're scared. Happiness doesn't suit you, Sammi. Fear does. And I want you to be mine, always."
She broke down, sobbing into Mr. Pickles as I held her, rocking her gently in my arms. "Shh, it's okay," I murmured, pressing kisses to her hair. "You're safe with me."
As her cries subsided, I turned her attention back to the walls. "Look," I said, pointing to a particularly beautiful shot of her sitting under a tree, lost in thought. "I took that the day you won your first music competition. You didn't even notice me."
I continued pointing out photos, narrating each one with pride. "And that one? That was the day you got your first A in science. You were so proud of yourself. It was adorable."
Sam stared at the images, her expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. But she didn't speak, didn't resist as I continued to hold her.
"You see, Sammi," I said softly, brushing my lips against her cheek, "you've always been mine. You just didn't know it yet."
Her tears began to fall again, silent this time, as she clung to Mr. Pickles. And I held her, content in the knowledge that she was exactly where she belonged.
Forever.
