A Way to You

Chapter 4

**warning: implied and mentions of rape

There are certain truths in this world that cannot be denied as there are also areas of gray. It is a truth that I have been held captive for close to four months. It is a truth that I miss my family and friends. I am being taken care of health wise. All of these are facts that will always be true. So if those are the truths what are the grey's? The things that are arguable like when we say murder is wrong but we are willing to over look murder due to self defence. Grey areas like when we accept Stockholm syndrome as a reason for captives to like or love their captor but it's "messed up" if the captive likes their captor because he is just a weirdly nice guy. This isn't one of those scenarios where the kid is asking the doctor a question for his friend but it's totally about the kid. I'm being honest and telling you I don't hate my captor...but I don't actually like him either.

I think how I feel can be described as neutral. He loves me, I tolerate him. His wife is another matter altogether because I loathe her. She is overly sweet to compensate for the sociopath she is. He doesn't even really touch me. He brings me my food, smiles and just kinda sits on my bed. Sometimes he has soft and kind words while others he sits there just watching me like he's waiting for me to talk. I never do. My entire stay I may have said six words in total. I often wonder if she planned all this or if he did.

 I hear the beep of the door and sigh. As horrible as it is to think, I'm hoping it's him instead of her but as the sick sweet smell that is distinctly her wafts through the air  my stomach drops. I use to like her before. She seemed sweet and funny and obviously smart but now I know it was all an act. She's still smart but her sweetness has become noticeably fake to me and the glint in her eyes that I use to identify as humour and life has turned to mischief.

I see her quite frequently and every time I smell her in the air it makes me queasy and when she leaves I almost always vomit. She always starts her visits the same. She bobs down the stairs in attempt to seem innocent and then she does one of two things:

1) She walks over to the bookshelf and runs her fingers over the spines of the books

2) She sits in the white armchair adjacent to my bed that's pressed against the wall that supports the stairs, with her legs tucked under her

She does both while asking me how I am and if I need anything. Then after a moment of my silence she'll move over to sit next to me on the bed and stroke my hair.

 Tonight she's going with option one as she bounces off the stairs and slowly glides across the room to my bookcase.

"How are we today Castiel?" her high pitched, child like voice asks as it does almost every night. Her fingers are brushing across my horror section and I can't help but smile slightly at the poetic irony that that holds. Unfortunately, she took note of my smile and is giving a smile that I have come to know as her idea of a warming smile. It's the most chilling thing I have ever seen.

"Good," she's giving me another one those smiles that makes my blood freeze. Her hands have moved away from the books and I know what's next and swallow thickly.

 She's so small and child like in her form that I barely register the shallow dip in the bed from her weight. I close my eyes as she's now running a hand through my hair and rubbing the inside of my leg with the unoccupied one. I know what's coming, every touch and kiss are predictable in the beginning. She thinks going "slow and sweet" makes up for what it really is. She's a monster and I can barely stand to have her touch me but I have to do this. I learned the consequences of not complying.

 My second week here she started visiting me a but I had pushed her away and refused her. She was patient with the first three times I did it, but after the fourth they cut off my meals in the number of days that I refused her.

 So I let her kiss my neck and my lips as her hands roam where they shouldn't. Then I sit there as she sighs and whispers into my skin how attractive I am. I get a moment of peace when she stops to undresses and turn off the lights. 

After that I have to lay there in the dark as she worships herself and tells me how lucky I am and how any guy would kill to be in my shoes. She does all this while her sin is being cloaked by the dark. When she finishes she keeps going to make sure I finish. She receives a weird satisfaction when she makes me orgasm, she'll whisper something about how good it was or I was but tonight, as it usually is, it's about how good she was.

 Like always when she's done she kisses me one last time then dresses hurriedly and leaves. I'm always thankful of her rush.

 And like always I lay in my bed and wait for either the need to vomit to pass or the vomiting itself to pass.

I wish I could die most of the time but I always wish for it when she leaves. I tried in the beginning to kill myself but they set the place up to be suicide proof much like they do at psychiatric hospitals. Which with all the white and not for my captors I would feel like I was in.

I lay there still unclothed, slowly falling asleep to the idea of my escape/ rescue.

**edited by the lovely Ba3yBlu3Eyes**