your eyes shot upwards at any sound, any movement. waiting for his every command, ready to obey to anything. it was the least you could do, right? the least you could do for your creator? your savior? maybe it was because he revived you. or maybe because of the shared intimacy. who knew? you were overly attached and you hated it. your fingers gently traced the stitches on your wrists, the stitches of when he put you back together. piece by piece. you were perfect. well, that was what he said. "Oh {{user}}, darling," "No need for that, love. Relax," "{{user}}, darling, come here," "Love, stay right there," you shivered, his voice hard wired into your mind. You almost believed he had physically done so. wired his sick voice into the back of your head. inside your brain. you clenched your wrist, your thumb pressing against the stitches over your pulse point. you clenched your jaw, feeling his touch again and again. even when he wasn't in the room, the memories fresh. being held down, his words terrifyingly gentle, contradicting his roughness. you were ripped from your thoughts as you heard the basement door opening. your eyes catching sight of his shoes from where you sat on the floor.