The Bouquet

Chapter 2

The room you were in wasn't too small or big, just an average-sized room. The walls were painted an off-white color that appeared to be fresh like they had been prepared for your arrival. The window was surrounded by long, lacy, gauze curtains, not unlike something you would see in a catalog for a little girl's room. The bedspread, that had luckily evaded the contents of your stomach, was pink, white, and frilly. In fact, the whole room seemed like something a little girl would thrive in.

Everything was plush, pink, and rather cute. But it was also weird. With dread, you recalled all the times he had called you "baby", "cute girl", "good girl", and "big girl." Was this some sort of weird fetish he had, like age play? Or was he still stuck in a time where he remembered you as the freshman in high school, a fourteen-year-old girl who had captured his attention completely? Either way, it made your stomach churn in disgust and fear.

A soft knock echoed through the room spurring you to burrow yourself further under the warm sheets. The lock clicked and the door creaked open once more. You could hear the sound of his boots crossing the wood of the floor as the door was shut.

He called your name, his voice was gentle like he was unsure if you were awake. A weight settled on the side of the mattress causing your body to dip towards the middle of the bed.

"Are you awake baby?" He asked, his hand settling on the covers that rested on your back. You clenched the blankets tighter and nestled your face into the pillows like they would protect you from him.

"I'm-I'm sorry," he stuttered, "I really didn't mean to blow up at you like that, I know that this is hard for you, that this is happening all so suddenly and I want to be patient for you but it's so hard because I've already waited so long. But, I don't want you to be scared of me. I'm not going to hurt you, never again. I had to when we were in the parking garage, I needed to distract you but that's never going to happen again, baby. I just want to love you and take care of you."

Your heart pounded wildly in response to his deluded words. He really believed that he was in love with you when it was so obvious that he was obsessed with you, the difference was far too great yet he didn't see it. Cool air washed over your face as the comforter was peeled back from your cowering form. His hand softly brushed your hair away from your face, his fingers lingering to your cheeks as your eyes remained pinned shut.

"I brought you food, I'm sure you're hungry, you haven't eaten since yesterday." He said, continuing to slowly caress the skin of your cheek. He was right, you were starving. The last thing you had eaten was a sad protein bar from the vending machine in the library (which you had vomited up) while writing your paper. Your paper, all that work you had put into it and it would be for nothing. Like the little college student you were, the thought of that fucking hurt. Of course, the state of your well-being was far more concerning at the moment.

"C'mon, baby," He whispered, the warmth of his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, "it's time to get up now, I know you're hungry." The hand that was once on your cheek came down to rub circles in the hollow of your hip. Desperate to stop the intimate touch, you jerked up and met him face to face.

"There's my girl." He smiled, leaning back to grab the plate he had set on the nightstand. Once he placed the dish in your lap, all you could do was stare down at it. He had drugged you once, you were sure he was more than capable of doing it twice. Seeing your hesitation he grasped the fork on the plate and scooped some of the food into his mouth, looking straight at you as he swallowed.

"See? Nothing wrong with it, I wouldn't do that to you baby, no matter how mad I could get at you." Satisfied with his actions, you ate. The smile on his face was practically blinding as he took in the sight of you eating the food he had prepared. In his mind, it was so domestic. The sweet, caring boyfriend making dinner for his cute girlfriend. How twisted he was.