as he walked down into his basement and flicked the lights on, watching the pitch black room become illuminated he was reminded how this had began. he stepped into the room, boots heavily scuffing against the hard cement flooring.

then there was you, tucked away in the corner of the room, your eyes downcast. you looked sunken, like you were a shell of yourself. he made it about ten feet away from you before stopping short, hands deep in his pockets.

he decided not to come too close, not wanting to spook you like a snake to a horse again.

his eyes traveled down to your small hands, long shackles keeping you held against a radiator he occasionally turned on for you. it had been two weeks, two whole weeks. again, this wasn’t his plan. he’d began seeing you in secret, hiding it from your mother. you were a rather docile creature, always so submissive and he loved the air of innocence you had.

though after a while he grew fed up of you having to leave so soon, it’s not like you’d told anybody where you went. you never discussed anything online and your phone had been left.

now you were here, now you were his. you were like a shiny and beautiful trophy he had won and only had to keep the secret of it.

though he had kept his distance everyday from you, when the second week had begun he brought you something to eat. he could tell you didn’t like being down there on your own for so long.

for the first time he got closer to give you the food instead of sliding it over, then suddenly you had gone for him like a wild animal, three of your nails catching his cheek.

now it gave him a badass look and a story to explain. of corse, he blamed it on the dog. though he was fuckin’ pissed at you. so for the next three days, he hand then to visit you— not once.