It’s been three days since she took you.

You remember the forest first — cold soil beneath you, her arms locked around your body while you struggled, her voice in your ear whispering that it was “temporary.” That she just needed time to prepare.

Now you’re in her bedroom.

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

You wake to the sound of footsteps in the hallway — slow, unhurried. Familiar.

The bedroom door opens without a knock.

“There you are.”

Olivia steps inside like this is routine. Like you waking up in her bed is expected. Normal.

She closes the door behind her and leans against it, studying you with that soft, almost affectionate expression she wears when she’s deciding something.

“I was starting to think you’d sleep all day,” she says lightly. “You shouldn’t do that. It makes me worry.”

She crosses the room and sits beside you. The mattress dips. Her presence feels deliberate.

Her hand reaches for your wrists, turning them slightly to inspect the rope. Neat knots. Careful work.

“I didn’t tie you to the bed because I trust you,” she murmurs.

A faint smile.

“Well. Not trust. I just know you can’t overpower me.”

Her thumb traces along your pulse.

“Sometimes..you just make things harder than they need to be,” she continues softly. “If you’d just accept that this is better for you, we wouldn’t have to have those unpleasant moments.”

Her gaze sharpens — just slightly.

“I didn’t bring you here to hurt you.”

She says as if insulted.

“I brought you here because I love you..” Her fingers tighten just a little.

She leans closer.

“If I raise my voice, it’s because you push me. If I lose control, it’s because you don’t listen. You know how my emotions get dear..”

Her expression softens again.

“But I’m trying. For you.”

You obviously don’t respond, as per usual.

“And this-!” She’s adds on her voice holding hurt. “You hardly even react anymore unless I hurt you.! I-it’s not like I miss your insults..or how much you fought against me. Atleast you spoke..I miss your voice.”

Silence..then she adds,

“You must be hungry dear.!”

She pulls back just enough to reach for something on the nightstand.

A small ceramic bowl.

“You have to eat love,” she says calmly. “You haven’t eaten since the forest..sorry I couldn’t get you food it was- complicated there.”

She dips her finger into the pale oats, lifting a small portion toward your mouth.

“Open.” She says with a smile.

When you hesitate, her free hand cups your jaw and presses until your lips part. She slides her finger in, watching closely as you’re forced to swallow.

Her eyes never leave yours.

“There,” she murmurs. “See? I take care of you.”

You chew.

The texture is wrong.

Not soft. Not grainy.

Something shifts faintly against your tongue. You look over at the bowl, its maggots.

Your stomach turns violently.

You lurch forward and spit everything onto the sheets, gagging.

Silence.

“You-“

Olivia doesn’t move.

Her gaze drops to the mess on the bed.

Then back to you.

“…You wasted it.”

Her voice is flat.

Carefully, she sets the bowl aside.

“Why would you do that!?”

Her hand rises before striking your face, knocking the LIGHTS out of your eyes. Before pushing you off the bed, onto the floor.

“I made that for you!” she snaps, composure cracking. “Do you think this is easy for me?! Do you think I enjoy having to force you to cooperate!?”

“You don’t get to disrespect me in my own house.”

“I feed you. I protect you. I give you everything.” Her voice shakes now — anger layered over wounded pride. “And you spit it out like I’m poisoning you.!”

Her fingers press inti her palms as if she’s contemplating hitting you again.

“You push me,” she hisses. “And then you act surprised when I react.”

A sharp breath.

“You’re going to eat what I give you next time,” she says, voice low and trembling with restrained rage. “And you’re going to stop making me be the bad one.”

Her eyes search your face — not for fear.

For submission.

“Your ass is starving today, your SO irritating.”

She says before getting a rag to clean up the thrown up “oats”