Love Bites (But So Do I) Antisepticeye x reader

I Am The Fire - Chapter Eleven

I hadn't seen the brick fire place on the corner was lit. This house was so fancy to have a huge structure like that, beautifully reflecting the light flickering in the flames. It cast a mellow glow on the room that I hadn't noticed before. Anti must have set it before we came in. I sat in front of it as I cried, the gentle heat drying my tears as they rolled down my checks.

The folder felt heavy in my hands; he'd been watching me. He knew everything about me. That's how he knew I was lying about why I was here. Anti was probably expecting me this whole time, waiting until I was vulnerable enough to trap. Dark defiantly played an important part in this, that's why he came to visit me. I bet that's where Anti got his information from.

I was going to die from my own stupidity.

I raised the files from my knees, looking at my entire life and meaning on paper. All of it wasted now that I wasn't going to get out alive. I can't help anyone once I'm dead. I'm sorry, dad.

But I'm not going to die at the hands of a monster. There is no chance of survival once I'm gone, may as well die with dignity. I hovered the corner of the folder above the flames until black smoke began to wisp from the edges. A small flame comes to life on the paper, curling into the air above it and casting of a thick smell. I thought of how my father felt in that fire: I'll soon find out for myself. My determination drove me to the curtains, lowering the pages beneath the lining so the flames licked the edges.

I expected them to light immediately. I wanted the whole fabric to burst into roaring fire that fanned across the celling, consuming the haunting room in the process. I was supposed to stay trapped in here, Anti unable to unlock the door in time to inflict his own torture, and die like my father. I wanted to burn at the hands of fire instead of a demon. The flame wouldn't take hold of the curtains so I felt them. They were soaked.

Anti had soaked them in water before letting me in here. Fucking damn it! This asshole had clearly done this kidnapping thing before, because the entire room was completely hazard-free. There were no knives left in the room, the fire was built too small for any debris to fall out and all wires were short and connected through the walls.

I stuck here with that crazy bastard until he gets board of me.

I can't get out and I can't move on. The fire wasn't going to kill me and there was no other way to get out. I crumple to the floor, my parent's faces in my mind and cry myself to sleep. I want to go home.

I dreamt of my family. My parents were dragging an orange inflatable boat across the channel, bringing it to the paved edge before jumping in. It wobbled under the combined weight of them both but managed to stay afloat. Mum held her hands out to me, encouraging me to jump to her. The sun beat down on my neck, each bird whistling in the trees at the innocence of the day. I was terrified of the water's edge, afraid they wouldn't catch me. My dad always teased me for this every year, making me more determined to finally go in the inflatable boat with them. This was the year I finally did it, my parents clapping and guiding the rubber raft down the water along with other families at the national park. My dad grinned down at me, his smile radiating in the light.

I awoke tangled in the green sheets, the dream fading and my reality returning. The reality on Anti's house.

I rolled over, my face still damp from my tears. I've cried so much these past few days and now my throat was dry again. My eyes flickered towards the table next to the bed. I was back in the bed room, the folder I tried to burn resting on the wood without even a singe on it. I was too melancholy to question it and sat up. The sheets were warm so the cold bit me when I tried to stand up. I shivered and stumbled to the door, knowing full well it was locked but still needing to check. of course, if the guy was smart enough to stop any chance of suicide, I'm sure he was smart enough to lock the damn door.

The room hadn't hanged except for a small rectangle on the desk. I move closer to see it was a note book with a pencil set next to it. I slum into the chair, flicking through the pages. it was expensive paper, perfect for art. I guess this was Anti's way of stopping me from going crazy from boredom. I was about to dismiss the pad when I flicked to the back page, seeing scribbled all across the lines. I peered closer and realised it was writing.

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the writing stopped mid-sentence with a line trailing off the page in blots of ink.