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"Babe? I'm home."

The voice sounded abhorrently foreign to her.

She couldn't believe she had come to love the sound of his voice at a point of time, when the assumption of being a prisoner of his adulation had not existed because there would never be a reason for it to. When the voice called her lovesick names so tenderly as if she weren't kept within his grasp unwillingly, she could practically die of revulsion.

(Y/n) answered with the stillness of the apartment. Upon entering farther inside, Chūya spotted her on one of the stool chairs of the bar-inspired area in the kitchen, fancying herself with a glass of red wine from the bottle she had opened up earlier. Beside her drink was another full, untouched glass.

"You took a bottle from my collection?" He questioned, leaving his overcoat by the living room couch and sauntering over to her, then proceeding to place kisses on her jaw and neck. He glanced at the wine bottle, remarking, "Mm, great choice. You have exquisite taste."

He sat beside her and drank from the glass which was left on the counter with the presumption that she had prepared it for him. As he did so, her gaze remained solemnly on her own drink.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, setting his glass down once relishing the smoothness of how the liquid felt on the walls of his throat.

"We... we have to talk." Came her meek reply. Intertwining her fingers together, she hesitantly averted her eyes to the executive before her. "Chūya, I-I really want to know what happened that night."

Quite abruptly, his countenance fell apart, turning into that of a condescending, degrading expression that amplified his silent demand to drop the topic brought up.

"What about it?" He hissed detestably. "This will be the last time we're talking about this."

"It just doesn't make sense," she wailed, gritting her teeth; her eyes contracted as if they were trying to halt the descent of tears, "I want to know why you're keeping me here. I know it isn't just because you want to keep me from the police!"

Without heeding his response, she went off the stool chair and brisk walked towards the bedroom, and soon he followed, disarrayed by the length of her movements.

"But I love you!" He exclaimed. "What of it doesn't explain why I want you here!?"

She remained facing the window wall, saying not a word against his reasoning. "You're hurting me," resumed the detective, "you think I recognize how you love me by treating me like a house pet?"

"I don't fucking treat you like one!"

"Nevertheless!" She screamed, at length turning to him with a wet, burning face. "How dare you say you love me while taking my freedom away!? How dare you say you love me when you spiked my drink that night!? You don't own me!"

There was this click in his appearance that hitched her breath for a split second, like a subtle sound of a loading gun that wasn't hers, or a distant voice in a barren chapel when she knew she was alone. She was not given time to comprehend the extremity of her fears upon setting eyes on his features as she found herself dragged painfully by the hair, her head shoved into the duvet of the bed and therefore - due to the use of excessive force - throbbed conflictingly.

"You ungrateful bitch." Chūya spat. "Maybe you just need discipline."

Both of his gloved hands clasped around her neck, and hers followed suite by gripping his wrists and pulling in hopeless attempts to reduce the pressure. He squeezed not enough to make her faint, though adequate for her to feel the pain of a damaged windpipe; the greater she resisted, the tighter he constricted.

"I tried to be so, so patient with you." He claimed under his breath, though there still held this roughness to which he was capable of using when she would create disapproving movements. "I was so goddamn patient I even decided to regard your dignity with restraint that night."

Her eyes widened at the admission. He began unbuckling his belt.

"But you don't care for consent, do you?" He chuckled darkly; it was criminal. "That's right; I don't remember giving you permission to enter my heart."

It was then when she started to resist with the fear instated in all the limbs of her body. She kicked, pushed, and hit pathetically, though everything was rendered impractical as the thought of being stripped off of her purity without consent made her vulnerable. This was the end of her.

But the struggle of his eyelids to remain open proved otherwise. Gradually, the vice grip on her throat dissipated with immense reluctance, and his disposition appeared to be uncharacteristically wavering. Soon and much to his horror and confusion, Chūya fell towards her body.

For a moment, they remained silent. She exhaled a laugh - one interlaced with the sickest tone of derision with a strange combination of relief from the halt of his actions. Begrudgingly, he lifted his head, though in the process of doing so she endeavored to push him away and lay him down the mattress.

"Foolish. You're incredibly foolish." She said, facing him with a twisted leer; a victorious smile. "You're so foolish that it puts me in shame to think you were able to successfully frame and abduct me!"

While he wondered how she was able to render him paralyzed and somewhat languid, she wondered why her tears were apparently inevitable. She took herself off the bed and straightened her clothes, fancying her time with the knowledge that he was incapable of movement.

"There was content of Liquid Ecstasy in the pantry of your kitchen." She explained. "I spiked your wine, and you were just so secure to drink it as I had been that night."

"Don't," he struggled to say, "don't leave me."

"If anything, you did this to yourself. Had you been so wary of your belongings then you wouldn't have ended up in this situation." Came her incomprehensible reply.

The last of his perception was when she took his fedora off of his head. When he closed his eyes and drifted to unconsciousness, she searched his pockets and took out all the necessary items - the radio-frequency card, his phone, and the keys to every room of his apartment.

After which, she ambled out of the room with profound ego.



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