|EDITED|Fuck it you know? Fuck him, fuck everything if he wants me dead he could've done it the moment he went to my apartment, but he didn't. He wants me to suffer.
I look at the window that it was already dark, the old light bulb flickers as it tried to give me light, even if it's just a speck.
Not gonna lie but I'm in fucking prison. God help me. It's been how many hours? My eyes droop as I look at my wounded bleeding foot. The bandages aren't helping at all, it was still bleeding.
I sniffed and close my eyes, maybe I need sleep. And when I wake up, this better is just some random nightmare.
The door slowly squeaks as it opened, I look at it and stood up, my wounded foot raised a little because it hurts when I touched the floor. I quietly tremble at the corner. He walked in and haven't seen me yet, he shrugged and look at my way.
"Hey! I made you food," he vivaciously said. I swallowed the lump of my throat and begin to feel terrified when he walked towards me. "Here," he handed it to me, I begin to feel awkward.
I gaze at the food and it was 'Steak' with vegetables. My mouth watered, but I have to restrain myself from accepting his offers. It could be poisoned. I look away from the food and avoided his gaze. "I'm not hungry." I coldly stated. Though I was shaking inside and I was dead-ass terrified.
I can see his smile disappeared from my peripheral vision. I bit my bottom lip and begin to feel tense.
"What?" He incredulously asked.
I didn't reply, I clenched my jaw and held my heart to stop beating so damn fast. I heard his breathing getting heavy, his intense stare burned holes into my cranium. "It's fine, it's fine." He convinced.
"Fine then! Fucking starve! Don't come running after me if you're starving you ungrateful twat!" He yelled. Did he really just called me a twat?
I was about to fire back but refused because that might end my life. I keep still and hoped it will be over
He's bipolar, isn't he?
Fuck.
I look at him and his now dark eyes. Once I thought he was a good guy but he's right, looks can be decieving and that sucks. I bit the inside of my cheek.
And pardon me? Running? How the fuck can I run when I'm chained, smart ass.
I rant to myself, I'm not gonna say that. It could either be life or death. He turned his back on me and took an intense inhale. I grimaced and look at his rigid back. What's going on? I don't understand, why is he doing this?
"Sorry, I'm sorry I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry." He faced me and replay the words like a broken mixtape. My breath stopped as I look at him. He massages his temple and looks at the food.
"You sure you don't wanna eat this?"
"No."
He nodded, "alright, just tell me if you want it. I'll heat it up if you want to."
I remained quiet he opened the door and disappeared again. I look at the now-closed door and sat back down still in shock.
.
.
.I fiddled with my fingers and look at them hopelessly, my uneven cut nails and my 'not so straight' fingers is what I hate about my hands. They look like some witch's nose.
I diverted my eyes to the white-painted ceiling and begin to 'hum' in my own melody.
I think I regret not getting that food, damn I let my anxiety took the wheel again. What if it wasn't poisoned? What if it's just...food. I lost my love for food because of him, he better bring it back to me or else I'll sue him.
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𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙙𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙 [𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒚 𝑿 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓] DISCONTINUED
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