Phasmophobia

I didn't like the way he was looking at me. Every night he'd sit with me but never next to me. He'd sit in the corner, his legs pulled up close to his chest and his hands busy messing with the multitude of various necklaces hanging down around his neck.

His eyes never left me, but twitched around me, taking me in almost. I couldn't say anything to him. It was like he was in a trance and if I did anything sudden, it would snap him out of it and bring his full attention toward me and do who knows what. I didn't like him, no one could. And he knew that.

Today was different though but his stare never strayed away. The broken down little door that served as an entrance to some small add on to his house slowly swung open and the man himself walked in. Garrett. He had told me his name as soon as he brought me to his house. It was a name I liked, but now, he tainted it with his appearance, his being. It didn't suit him and I wished he never told me it.

He didn't smile as he walked in, he never did. This time he brought two mugs and I could see the small wisps of mist roll off the hot liquid inside. He calmly closed the door with a shove of his foot and set one of the mugs down beside me, gently almost, watching me as if I would run for it.

But he knew I couldn't and with a natural instinct, I shifted my arms and legs, feeling the tightly bound rope keeping me stationary. He stared at me suspiciously when I didn't take the drink right away, staying in the pose with his arm still outstretched.

"It's hot chocolate, love. I thought you liked it." I noticed now that I too was staring suspiciously and quickly grabbed the cup as best as I could, despite the constricting binds, "Yeah..." I mumbled as quietly as I could. It was one thing not to listen the first time, the simple sentence acting as an order, but it was another not to respond. I didn't have the time to listen to him lecture me again.

He relaxed when I settled down with the mug and he finally moved to sit himself down in his usual spot. He took a sip of his mug, drinking the coffee inside. I would always smell it on him; it poured off of him like cologne. He cleared his throat and rested the cup in his hands. He was watching me again, "You need to drink it." I was already holding it in my hands but I was too busy, well, watching him this time.

It was more of an order rather than a request. I brought the mug to my mouth and pretended to drink. I still didn't trust him and this time he was commanding me to drink it. It was strange and I had no room to take a risk. After, I cleared my throat too, trying to sound believable, maybe taunting him in a way. He saw through it, as usual. It's a wonder why I try but who says I'll ever stop?

He set his mug down on the floor and stood up, making me regret what I dd. He moved slowly, his boots sliding across the hardwood, "Give it to me, sweetheart." He held out his hand and motioned for me to give it up, standing above me, his legs almost touching me he was so close.

I raised it as high as I could and he took it, bringing it close to his face. I could see the rim of the mug touch his lips and, whilst staring at me with a slight smirk, let his saliva roll into the hot chocolate. I cringed and pursed my lips, looking away in shame and disgust. He offered the cup back to me and without any choice, I took it back.

"Now you drink it, or I'll kiss you."

I stared at him, wide eyed, and he knew that he got to me. He knew I didn't like him touching me but this was just too gross. Garrett already proved to me that he couldn't control himself. He had already kissed me once and it had gone too far for my liking and when he noticed that he had, it was like he didn't know what he was doing. Again, it was like he was always in some trance around me but it didn't change my opinion of him. I hated him, loathed him.

I wanted to splash the damn drink back in his face but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The threat of his rage put me off the idea and the option of the kiss made me a little less reluctant toward the drink.

I swallowed hard, closed my eyes and went to drink, secretly hoping he would stop me at last second. He didn't, I knew he wouldn't, and I was forcing myself to down the hot drink. I could hear Garrett breathing it was so quiet. He was focused on me, it was obvious.

I was ready to throw up but I forced myself to chug past it. I heard him breath a laugh through his nose when I finished the drink. When I looked up at him, ready to give him the cup back, the corner of his mouth was twisted into a sick smile.

He took the mug in his hand and went to grab his, going to walk out the door, "Hoped you enjoy that little taste, love." He smirked before exiting, leaving me in disgust.