Chapter Text
moodboard:
You wake. The first thing you feel is the blood rushing back to your brain, then your knees on the cold chalky concrete, and finally your hands strung high above your head. You struggle to lift your head, barely any light in the large room, only a couple things scattered around the walls in front of you; an arm chair, a mattress, and a table with multiple shelves stacked with things you couldn’t make out. It felt like you hadn’t opened your eyes in days, or done anything matter of fact.
You wriggle your wrists, roped up to the circular pillar behind you, the same to your ankles but you quickly realise those are tied up behind the pole too. You didn’t remember much from before now, but you didn’t care, you just wanted to get out of whatever fucked up place this was.
Your eyes search around again, looking behind you. You jump.
A large man, dressed in all black, sits on a small couch behind you. A mask over his face. You wriggle more, desperate to get out of these ropes and out of this room, wincing as the cord burns you. “Shut up.” He says in a thick accent as he stands up. You do. He walks past you to reach for a light switch, tiny compared to his hand. It takes you a moment to fully take in the true size of him, he must be over 6’5”.
The sudden light in the room makes you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, plaits you don’t remember putting in whip the side of your neck. The light was yellowed and flickered slightly every few seconds. He drags the chair closer to you as your eyes readjust, his frame surging into your view again, the wooden legs scraping against the cement floor. You try to back away, pressing yourself against the pillar as if you were bracing for impact. The chair squeaks as he sits down in it, he looks uncomfortable. “Are you…feeling okay?” He questions, randomly. You run your eyes over him, getting a better look this time, intimidating and still massive.
You think for an obvious moment, not knowing what to say. You didn’t like being tied up in some strangers basement if you couldn’t guess, but it wasn’t like you were in a position to complain and you weren’t in any pain, yet.
You only nod. His fists on either side of the chair tighten, a tall huff comes out from his nose. “Words.” He instructs.
“Yes.” You say quietly, barely audible, trying to swallow and failing. Hadn’t he given you water? Braided your hair but didn’t do the more obvious thing?
“Better.” He pauses, seemingly waiting for you to say something. “Words again. Tell me what you need, or i can’t get it for you, Maus.” He reminds, seemingly annoyed already by you.
“Water.” You ask, eyes unblinkingly. He stands again and goes to the table, he grabs a bottle of water. He looks behind himself at you trying to get a peek, then covers the full cart of items with his body as he prepares something. You hear the snap of a bottle opening, pouring and a fizz. He turns back around, the water now in a glass. “Don’t look at that.”
He stops extremely close to you, mostly unable to look up at him. He holds out the glass to your face and presses it to your dry lips, titling it up, and up, and up, and up. Too far up, until you almost choke on it. He snickers, you could feel the smile under his baggy mask. “What does a girl say when she gets something she asked for?” He puts the glass next to your feet and sits back down.
“Thank you.” Your voice clearer after being hydrated. You turn to look at the glass beside you, fizzing. “What did you-“
He clicks his fingers together. Interrupting you. “Pay attention.” He instructs again. “Look, Maus. I don’t think you remember who i am, which i expected. But you don’t have to be scared, I can see you shaking.” He looks down at your body, mostly your arms though, the muscles obviously straining from being pinned upwards for however long. “Maybe you are just cold, are you cold?” He asks worriedly, like being cold is the worst thing i could be bothered by right now.
“I might be.” You answer, “A little.” It was the truth at least.
He jumps up for a second time, walking behind you. You try to look behind yourself as well as you could but it was basically impossible by the extent of binding you were under right now. He returns after a moment, a blanket in his hands. You assume it’s from the couch. He didn’t seem like the person to even own a blanket. More like to light a fire and stay warm that way. Maybe he bought it for you specifically. He kneels in front of you, draping the fluffy blanket over your still-shaking body and tucking it into you so it stays tight to your frame with a flat palm.
“Thank you.” You say again. He grunts as he stands, nodding his head down once, his joints pop. You think back to when he said you probably didn’t remember him, which you didn’t. But you knew him? How? “You said…i probably didn’t remember you. Why would i know you?”
He sighs, more of a draw. “Maybe i shouldn’t have said that.” He continues to just stand over you, his arms crossed, the black shirt tightening around his forearms and crinkling. “We talked, online. It wasn’t for long, a week. I knew you would be talking to other guys at the same time. I guess i just couldn’t let go of you. After you left the website, i took it upon myself to look over you, and look after you. Over some time, it got…unhealthy. I couldn’t bear the thought of you entertaining other men. Even just for that week. I decided i needed you to myself, more than just watching you on cameras all day, and here you are.” He ends.
Your mouth goes dry, trying to wipe the top of your palette with your tongue. “I left that website two years ago.” Your mind spirals, cameras? “I-I was sick back then, unhealthy. I finally got better. I don’t have interest in talking to old men now, or in whatever i liked back then…”
“You liked me.” He says blankly. “You liked being babied, and telling strangers how needy you were. Those…interests don’t just disappear.”
You gasp slightly, offendedly. Struggling to think of anything to say back to that. He speaks again. “It will take you time to come to terms with your new circumstance, but i believe in you. No matter how ‘healthy’ you are now.”
You sniffle, tears beginning to pool in your waterline, falling down into your eyelashes and cheeks. You drop your head down hopelessly. “You don’t…- You don’t understand. I’m better…”
He gains to you, crouching closely to you. He places a rough bare hand to the side of your face. His thumb rubs and digs into the dip below your cheekbone soothingly. “Shh, shh.” He hums softly, almost mockingly. “I’m here. No need to cry. There is no point in pretending you haven’t wanted this still, even after two years. I know you do. I’m closer to you than anyone else. I’ve seen you do things you’ve never even thought about telling anyone. I understand you, more than yourself. You have to let me help you. You’re still sick.”
You continue to cry, heavier and heavier as he speaks. Your body heaves as you do, unintentionally trying to get closer to him, the rope squeezing from the top of your thighs down to your ankles preventing you to do so. You actually take a look down at yourself, the thin blanket covering most of you but you could still see the indents of the rope, and the feeling of it constricting you. You were covered in it, doubled over, maybe even tripled. It seemed all too overly cautious for a girl like you. It was evident you didn’t have the strength, even normally, to break out of half of this, and as if a man like himself would need so much reinforcement.
He presses his forehead to yours, hands sliding off of your face to descend to your legs. His thick hands slide down the quilt slowly just to the middle of your thigh, reaching for the tan coloured rope, his hands surprisingly gentle as his fingers and thumbs untie the complicated knot that keeps you sat down flush to yourself. As soon as it’s unraveled you lift yourself up, kneeling at a ninety degree angle. Pressure comes off of your body, suddenly able to move yourself freely at most joints. You bend your torso into his, his arms squeezing around your back as you cry into his shoulder. The blanket fallen onto the dusty floor now. His hand slides from the midst of your back down to the small of it, kneading the heel of his palm into your spine. “It’ll all be okay…” He coos.