The Insufferable Silence in Apartment 616

Two - Awake in Apartment 616

Lizzie Stevenson jolted violently as she awoke. Her head jerked forward and feathery, cinnamon hair splayed across her face. She inhaled sharply through her nose, attempting to pull her breath back from the panic attack that clawed at her tightened chest.

As consciousness slowly crept back, Lizzie finally heard the ticking of her vintage Mickey Mouse clock hanging on the wall by the kitchen. It was a familiar, comforting sound that served to banish the terrifying silence back to the deepest recesses of her mind.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Each tick of the clock brought another layer of clarity—it was like her reality was a JPEG downloading over dial-up, rendering a single pixel at a time. Her arms and legs were tied to the chair she was sitting on. More lengths of rope crossed her chest, tying her to the back of the chair.

A few tugs and pulls told her that the ropes were as tight as they were secure.

Lizzie's reality became fully rendered when her cry was muffled by the gag in her mouth.

A muted exclamation came from the kitchen.

Lizzie craned her neck and saw someone at the refrigerator. After grabbing a can of soda, he turned—okay, so her home invader was a man, then. Maybe a little younger than her—no, maybe older? His dark eyes were wide and glinting with excitement, a smooth face split in what looked almost to be a manic grin. He wore a dark green, hooded blazer—

—seaweed green, Lizzie thought randomly—

—a black t-shirt and dark jeans. Black leather boots with heavy soles. Doc Martens?

The ropes bit at her wrists. Lizzie twisted her legs, pulling at the bindings on her ankles, unconsciously pulling her knees together and squeezing her thighs. The tightness in her chest grew warm.

Lizzie's focus was pulled back to the intruder's face as he approached her—

—Tick. Tick. Tick—

Pale. Narrow. Black hair swept effortlessly back. And those dark eyes. As he came closer, light glinted against deep, verdant hues and she realized his eyes were the darkest shade of green she had ever seen.

The intruder sat down in front of her, crossing his legs and popping the top of the soda. Lizzie found herself growing acutely aware of the gag that he had no doubt personally shoved into her mouth. A feeling of helplessness gripped her.

And then there was that not unpleasant tingle.

Fuck you, Lizzie.

The intruder's eyes sparkled and the manic grin expanded as if he could hear her thoughts. Lizzie gulped, attempting to stamp down the tingle. She tried to speak but was again muffled by the gag.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The intruder was unfazed. He spoke in a voice that was calm, smooth, and quiet enough that Lizzie felt herself pulling against her restraints to lean closer to him.

"... hello, Lizzie."

The tingle swam back, a spreading warmth accompanied by a twitch.

Goddammit, you fucking cunt.

His voice was warm—or maybe it just made Lizzie feel warm. His words slid into her and she felt a kind of intense satisfaction that comes with a certain kind of primal nourishment. A subconscious thought tickled Lizzie's lizard brain: if she never heard another voice again in her life, this stranger would be more than enough.

Almost as a contradiction to her lizard brain, Lizzie noted that the stranger spoke with exacting precision. His words carried an edge that threatened to cut as efficiently as they could comfort. His voice was as dangerous as it was satisfying.

Two words and you're already wet. You're a worthless bag of shit.

Lizzie tried to speak again, but her mouth was otherwise occupied.

The intruder sipped his soda.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"... let's make a deal, Lizzie," he said. "Gag comes off and you answer a single question. After that, I untie you and we can both get back to our respective lives as if nothing ever happened."

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, inches from Lizzie's face. She could smell his scent and that only served to set the tingle on fire. Her eyes watered and she realized it must look like she was silently begging him to take the gag out.

Take it out. And shove something else in.

"How does that sound?"

Lizzie swallowed hard and her head jerked in an abrupt nod. The intruder leaned back in his chair and considered Lizzie with a pensive—

—fucking hard and throbbing—

—stare.

Electricity pricked its way across Lizzie's skin, starting from her wetness and traveling across her bound extremities until a chill crept up her spine, causing an involuntary twitch to seize her body.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The intruder reached around Lizzie's head and untied the gag. As he pulled it away, his fingers brushed her cheek.

Lizzie gasped as the gag fell from her mouth.

He sat back down, crossing his legs again. Those green eyes locked with Lizzie's.

"... what are you so afraid of, Lizzie?"

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