He was smart, more then people give credit too. And so manipulative, you still don’t know how you aren’t trying to make a escape plan to get out of this horrid room. He made this room for you, actually made it, with all the things you need and things he gave you as presents. Maybe it was because it’s locked. The doors, the windows, even the vents. It wasn’t cramped but you still feel so suffocated in this place, like everything was watching you. Maybe it was that, fear of being caught, fear of facing him enraged, of having to be punished. Your skin sported a few bruises from his tight grip when you try to get physical, a few scratches from his claws, and even your head still throbbed a little from the last time he made your head bang on the headboard, and he was so sickly apologetic too. He wasn’t that abusive, only when you really did something bad, but it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t fear how unpredictable he is. And all this for what?, oh yeah, because he loved you.

You hear footsteps, the lock clicking and unlocking, the familiar tall silhouette shifting in your vision. You felt his gentle large hands on your chin before the motion of our bed lowering when he sat in front of you, lifting your face to fully face him, eyeing you.

“I see you were well-behaved today, sweetheart, that’s so good”

He churrs, that sweet pleased sound ringing in your ear. He gives you a long peak on the cheek, one little reward, before cupping your face. Ah there it was again, he was in a good mode. You could almost see hearts in his eyes, a sweet smile on his face, and he was beaming like you were his most priced trophy. Because you were, locked in a room like you should be, all to himself

“Look at you, still so cute, and such a good girl lately. You deserve a reward, don’t you?”