𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐱 | 𝟣𝟪+

|51| 𝒴ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ 𝒿ℴ𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔

Two days, in the grand scheme of things, that amount of time is not a big deal.

Regardless, I get bored very easily,
it's annoying like most true things.

All I have is a TV, two cigarettes,
no alcohol, and no phone.

I feel like I'm grounded, which
I know sounds stupid because
I'm twenty-three, but that's what
this is; being stuck in a room.

He doesn't sleep in here, he rarely
comes in, the only sounds
I hear are footsteps, gunshots,
and the fucking TV.

I hate this, luckily, I have a lighter.

The windows in here are
broken, or painted shut;
either way, I can't get out.

Not that I could drop from the
third floor. It isn't the same as the
apartment, but it's still a bad idea.

I understand that the pills were a
wrong move, and I did apologize,
but he could care less

I assume I would have the same anger,
if not worse; so I'm waiting patiently;

The only thing I won't deal with is
missing out on getting revenge;
Max is still kicking, and now I've
realized I want to go after Gabriel too,
he's less of a priority but still on my list

I hear footsteps, stopping at my door.

Judging by the sun, I'm assuming
it's mid-day, can't be passed four pm.

I sit by the window, watching the
day move by, on a comforter
and a cigarette between my fingers.

After inhaling the smoke, the door
clicks and my guest walks in.

"Marceline," I glance over to him,
two things are draped over his arm,
but I don't look long
enough to figure out what the cloth is.

I exhale and look back outside; he walks
up to me, closer than I expected,
and pulls the cigarette out of my mouth; meaning I now only have one left.

He puts it out and holds two hangers
with pretty dresses on them in his hands "Pick one." I shrug and look outside.

He can pick for all I care, it's going
to end up with blood on it. Max is
mostly Celeste's thing, so I assume
I can torture him but not kill him;

Aleksander grabs my arm and
pulls me up. I lean against the wall
but don't push his hand away.

See, this could be worse, this is its
own type of torture but
solitary would be worse, or mutilation; which he's fully capable of.

"Do you want a different color or design?"
I shrug and attempt to look outside
again; he grabs my chin before I can

I shake my head, telling him no,
but like I said, I could care less;
outfits aren't my biggest concern.