The room was strangely silent except for the soft rustling of the doctor's movements. I sat there on the edge of the couch, my injured foot propped up as he carefully examined it. The pain was there like a dull throb that I could barely register over the storm of confusion and suspicion swirling in my mind. Judas had ordered a doctor. For me.
The thought was baffling. Too much to the point I couldn't help but steal glances at his face.
Judas was stadning a few feet away though I could still feel his piercing gaze eating me alive despite the distance.
He wore his shades this time, the same pair that made him look impenetrable, unreadable. The cane was in his hand, gripped tightly, and my entire body tensed at the memory of where that cane had been just yesterday. The cruel way he'd wielded it, the way he'd relished in my pain.
But now, he was pretending-no, not pretending. Acting. Playing the part of a concerned man, the master of this twisted little world we both inhabited. And as much as I wanted to see through it, to call it out for the farce it was, I couldn't. Because Judas, even in this charade, was still in control. Dominating.
The doctor seemed like a nervous man in his mid-forties who kept glancing up at Judas, his hands shaking slightly as he wrapped my foot. He was too scared to speak out of turn, too frightened to ask any questions. I could understand where this fear was coming from, I resided in same place.
Judas's was suffocating. He was like a delicate sword ready to break at the slightest provocation.
"Is it broken?" Judas's voice cut through the silence, and I flinched at his voice.
He had this impact on me. The kind that made me jump every time his deep voice would caress my ear lobes.
He didn't move, didn't even shift his posture, but somehow the entire room seemed to tilt towards him, as if even the walls were leaning in to hear him speak.
The doctor flinched at the question, so do I, his fingers fumbled with the bandage as he awkwardly cleared his throat.
"N-no, sir," he stammered, eyes flickered nervously to Judas's face, though he couldn't see the man's eyes behind those dark lenses. "Just a sprain. It should heal with some rest."
"Rest," Judas repeated, tilting his head. He tapped the cane lightly against the floor. "How long?"
"Two weeks, maybe less if she stays off it," the doctor replied, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if speaking too loudly would somehow incur Judas's wrath.
And it would.
Even a fly would tick this man. He was that unpredictable.
Judas tilted his head slightly to other side, considering this. "Two weeks," he mused, as if testing the length of the sentence. "No sex then?"
The doctor cleared his throat and I snapped my head at him though my cheeks burned.
Bastard.
The doctor nodded quickly, too quickly, eager to please. "Yes. She needs severe rest. I can arrange for a nurse-"
"No," my living nightmare sighed. "She stays here. Kyle will look after her."
My heart skipped a beat at that. Kyle? Of course. Another form of control, another way to keep me under his thumb. I glanced at Kyle, who stood by the door with his expression unreadable, his silence more oppressive than any words he could have spoken .
"Is that clear?" Judas asked, not to me, but to the doctor.
"Yes, sir," the doctor murmured, finishing the bandage and quickly gathering his things. He was practically trembling now, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere.
"Good," Judas said, stepping closer, the tap of his cane echoing through the room like a death knell. He leaned down slightly, as if inspecting the doctor's work, though I knew it was more about asserting his dominance than actually checking on my foot.
"Remember," he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper that only the doctor and I could hear, "if she doesn't heal properly, if she suffers because of your incompetence, you'll answer to me."
The doctor paled, nodding frantically. And I wonder was he always this scary? Yes he was.
"Yes, sir. I'll-I'll make sure everything is perfect."
Judas straightened and dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and the doctor nearly tripped over himself in his haste to leave. I watched him go, my heart pounding, my mind racing with questions. Why was Judas doing this? Why the sudden concern?
As the door closed behind the doctor, Judas turned his attention to me, I hated I couldn't see this expressions behind those damn shades. He took a step closer, his cane tapped once more, and I couldn't help the way my body recoiled, a small, instinctual movement that I immediately regretted.
He noticed, of course. He always noticed. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if my fear was just another form of entertainment for him.
"Don't get too comfortable," he said, his voice low and edged with that familiar cruelty. "Heal while you can."
I swallowed, the words caught in my throat, trapped by the weight of his gaze, even if I couldn't see his eyes. The truth was laid bare between us, a silent understanding that no matter how much he pretended to care, it was always about power. About reminding me who held the chains.
"Thank you," I managed to choke out, though the words felt like poison on my tongue.
Judas stared at me and I wonder if I said something wrong and then he smirked. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with a gentleness that was more terrifying than any of his threats.
"You're welcome, little bird," he murmured and I felt his warm breath against my skin.
I contemplated before I could stop words ripped through my mouth. "I'd like to continue with college."
Judas's smirk deepened. His hand lingered near my face, fingers grazing the curve of my jaw, feather-light, yet it felt like a vise tightening around my neck.
I had expected this response.
"College?" he repeated, as if tasting the word on his tongue, rolling it around, savoring its texture before spitting it back at me. "Is that what you really want, ptichka? Or is it just another way to think you can escape?"
My breath caught, but I forced myself to hold his gaze, refusing to let him see how much his words rattled me.
I cleared my mouth. And pretend to lean to his touch. Maybe if I play his game, he'd let him have some choices?
He leaned closer and the scent of him-cologne, leather, and something darker, something uniquely Judas-filling my senses, overwhelming me. His lips brushed my ear, barely a whisper, yet the words sliced through me like a blade.
"Tell me, little bird, do you think your life is still your own?"
My heart pounded in my chest. I wanted to push him away, but all I could do was sit there, paralyzed by the quiet menace in his voice.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes again, his gaze a dark blues that threatened to pull me under. "Or do you just want to see how far your wings can take you before I clip them?"
I swallowed, the motion painful, like glass shards scraping down my throat. "It's not about that," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, the words trembling with the effort it took to speak them.
He tilted his head, studying me as if I were a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out, and the silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, suffocating in its intensity.
"Then what is it about?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft, like velvet over steel.
"It's about having something I worked years for," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them, raw and unfiltered.
My eyes met his pale ones.
But his expression didn't change, and I saw the flicker of something in his eyes-interest, perhaps, or maybe it was just another layer of his cruelty.
When he didn't say anything, I continued. "I promise to stay in this apartment and you'd let me attend college. That's all I want from you and nothing more. You've already taken so much from me… but this…" I swallowed hard. "Not this. Please."
I had fully expected him to laugh t my face and slap me hard across with his words but instead he just stared down at me as if I said something fully awful.
I prayed to whatever power was there. I didn't want to end up with him punishing me or spanking mex and moreover Kyle was also here. Please god. Please, I'd pray every day and fast every Sunday.
Surprisingly, his hand cupped my cheek, deceptively gentle, and I flinched, but didn't pull away. His touch was ice against my skin, his thumb brushed over my lips, the gesture almost tender, but I knew better. Judas didn't do tenderness-only control, only power.
"Let's not pretend," his thumb pressing harder until it was painful, "that you don't love the cage I've built for you."
The air left my lungs in a rush, my heart hammering against my ribcage as his words sank in, each one a twisted dagger. "No," I whispered, but even to my own ears, it sounded like a lie.
Judas's smile was slow, satisfied, like a predator toying with its prey. "Good girl," he murmured, releasing me abruptly, leaving me reeling, off-balance. "Now, let's not talk about college again, shall we?"
His eyes bore into mine, calculating whether I was brave or foolish to ask him for anything at all. I could almost hear the gears turning in his mind.
"Tell me, little bird," my hands trembled and I was on verge of crying. He was taking something that didn't belong to him, "why do you want this? Why should I let you have it?"
I swallowed hard, feeling the noose tighten around my throat.
"I just… I want to finish my degree," I managed to voice out though I was shovering.
His hand, still resting on my cheek, twitched, and I saw the flicker of anger in his eyes. For a moment, I thought he might lash out, that he might finally snap and unleash the fury that simmered just beneath the surface. But instead, he smiled-a slow, cruel curve of his lips that made my blood run cold.
"You want to finish your degree?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm. "To what end, ptichks? Do you think a piece of paper will set you free? That you can waltz back into a world that no longer exists for you?"
The truth of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. He was right-nothing was the same anymore, not after him. My old life was gone, replaced by the nightmare he had crafted, a reality where every breath I took was dictated by his whims. But even so, I clung to the idea of finishing my degree, of holding onto that one last piece of my former self.
"It's not about freedom," I whispered, my voice shaking. "It's about… it's about having something that's mine. Something you haven't taken from me."
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze unreadable as he watched me, his hand still cradling my cheek, a touch that felt more like a shackle than a comfort. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
"Everything you have, everything you are, belongs to me, baby. There is nothing in this world that isn't mine to take." His breath was hot against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. "But if you want this so badly… if you think you can still cling to some semblance of independence, then perhaps I can grant your wish. For a price."
My heart skipped a beat, hope and dread warring within me. He was offering me a lifeline, but I knew better than to trust it. Nothing Judas gave came without strings, without a noose waiting to tighten around my neck.
"What price?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile hope I clung to.
He pulled back, just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze dark and unyielding. "You'll continue with your college," he said, his voice deceptively kind, "but you'll do it on my terms. You'll have no friends, no connections outside of your studies. You'll report to me every day, telling me everything you've done, everything you've learned. And if I ever feel that you're slipping out of my control, that you're forgetting who holds the chains…" His hand tightened around my throat, just enough to make me gasp. "Then I'll remind you."
His words closed in around me, and my mind raced, trying to process his conditions, to weigh the cost against the faint glimmer of freedom he dangled before me.
"And if I agree?" I asked, my voice trembling, the words catching in my throat.
His smile was slow, cruel, a promise of everything he could and would do. "Then you'll have your degree," he said, his voice soft but edged with steel.
My heart pounded in my chest, my pulse thrumming in my ears as his words sank in. He was giving me what I wanted, but at the cost of my soul. I was trading one cage for another, but this one was gilded with the illusion of choice.
"I agree," I whispered, the words a death knell to my hopes, sealing my fate with a finality that made my stomach churn.
And just like that, the chains tightened, locking into place, and I was left standing in the wreckage of my own shattered dreams, the weight of his control pressing down on me like a tombstone. But I held onto the faint, flickering hope that one day, I might find a way to break free-if only I could survive long enough to find it.