Endearing ~ Split Fanfiction

Indigestion

Image by Isidore Pils, 1813/15–1875

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Sense of time is an interesting thing. As I contemplate my existence, I begin to wonder if time really exists, either. Perhaps it is just a made up concept, some sort of universal knowledge for people to hold on to, to make sense of things, move forward. Here in this room, there was no window, the lights never turned off, and the air remained the same. I had grown accustom to the muzzle; I could even fall asleep with it on. Moving your mouth was a considerable function that I had not given much significance to, until that privilege was taken away. Screaming was no longer an option, as now it was muffled. Also, I knew a little more, to the extent, of this guy's madness. I thought of Claire and Marcia. I missed them.

My attention was riverted back to my muzzle, as an inch irritated my lower chin.

Privilege. 

I shook my head, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. What had Dennis meant by the Beast? His vague words ran in and out of my head constantly.

You're not gonna like it.

I rubbed my eyes again. I had earned Hedwig's trust before, maybe I could gain trust from Dennis. Temptation is weakness, I knew this best. But there was something more weak in the sense of his demeanor. When I mentioned the Beast, he responded differently. Maybe out of devotion or praise, but there was a tone of slight fear. I could use this. And then, use other hindrances to my advantage. He liked dancing, I knew that for one. I laid on my side, curling up. Maybe I could ask him to turn the lights off.

                                                                                        ~~~~~~

"I know what you're thinking," I heard a voice, the British one again.. Wiping my mouth from having fallen asleep, I sat up, trying to pay attention. 

"I'm not," another, what I think was Dennis.
"Do you take me for a fool?" it snapped.
"Patricia," Dennis groaned.

"I will repeat myself. Do you take me for a fool?" Patrica said. I slowly got on my feet and stepped to the doorway, kneeling, and peeking in the doorway. I saw him, standing, in what seemed to be a skirt, staring into a mirror. "You cannot have her."

"I don't want her," Dennis muttered. Patricia laughed.

"You are only lying to yourself, Dennis."

"Listen, it's just, I don't know, she seems different? We followed the other two, we're sure about them, but her? I'm not so sure." Was he talking about me?

"We don't have time to be sure. Stick to the plan," Patricia rebutted.

"If you just gave me a chance-" Dennis started, but then, hard and loud, came a slap across his face. It was suddenly very silent, my heart pounding. In the strangest way, I saw a man slap himself, but understandingly, I saw Patricia slap Dennis.

"That's enough," she finished. The conversation was over and he walked out of my view. I crawled backwards, trying to keep my tears in, and returned to the bed.