✩ SIT DOWN BESIDE ME ﹒ ʲᵒⁿᵃᵗʰᵃⁿ ᶜʳᵃⁿᵉ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

─ chapter vii ; strategy

after two weeks of sleeping on the floor, y/n decided that sleeping in the bed couldn't be so bad. it didn't have to mean that she was relinquishing herself to jonathan's care. in fact, it didn't mean that at all. it meant that she was choosing not to let her back and hips be sore every day, and nothing more.

jonathan seemed to have gotten the message. for the next week (maybe a little more than that; time feels altered when all you see is the same-yet-always-unfamiliar walls every day) the most y/n saw him in one day was three, maybe four times. most days it was only twice, asking if she needed anything or giving her a meal.

and whenever she saw him, all she wanted to do was lunge at him, show him he didn't have power over her, and run. leave and never have to see him again.

but he was stronger than her, and escaping was going to take a little more effort than just barreling past him. she'd need to plan it out more.

the only time she'd ever been let out of this room other than to bathe was when jonathan had brought her to the living room to sit with him. vividly y/n remembered his hands on her arms, stopping her from leaving, bringing her closer to him.

that's what he wanted. and that was the only way she would be getting out of here.

today, y/n stared at the wall just like every other day, but now it was a different wall, the one parallel to the bed that she laid in, the one with the window.

her strategizing was interrupted by jonathan knocking on the door. he didn't wait for an answer before walking in.

"i have a couple things for you." voice flat, as usual.

he stepped in, closing the door behind him before placing a familiar book on the nightstand, bookmark sticking out of its pages. and on top of the paperback, a folded up piece of white, silky material.

y/n hadn't seen that book in almost a month, the one she'd been in the middle of before it and everything else had been taken from her.

or, more precisely, she'd been taken from it and everything else.

she could've punched him, jammed her elbow against his gut, slammed her foot into his shins and fucking ran. was he trying to make her feel more at home? suddenly feeling bad about locking her up in here with nothing to even occupy her time with?

y/n could feel all of that anger, desperation coming back to her. rushing to her head. she could've screamed at him, and she could feel it mounting in her throat. it'd been mounting for weeks. she stared at him, expression twisted with fury, but not even a sound came from her lips.

remember: strategy.

"thank you." her voice was mild, like the melting wax of a burning candle.

"do you need anything?"

"no."

"i'll be back later."

he made for the door, reached for the knob—

"jonathan—"

he turned back to y/n with an almost eager expectancy, hidden by his always detached and emotionless demeanor, waited. was she finally coming around?