Framed Deception (Yandere M. x F. Reader)

Epilogue

A/N: As usual, I would recommend putting the video on loop.

Pushing back the curtains, she stared out at the scenery she had seen for months on end now. Ocean waves lapped up against the shore below. Bright pink tulips and blue baby's breath were bright and swayed in the slight morning breeze. Roses were many and well taken care of by Hana, who she only saw on rare occasions. Mountains stood tall in the background, and only the sky really seemed to change on a day-to-day basis. Right now, it was overcast.

During the evening, however, she would always have a bright blue sky greeting her, like in that painting from the magazine. The same scene was painted onto her curtains, and roses were still present to her eyes. Purple ones grew in planter boxes around the perimeter of the room.

To spite Edmund and even his aunt in the beginning, she had destroyed some of them. When Edmund had seen their state ... A chill ran up her spine at the memory, being restrained to the bed for days, only to be let up for the restroom and a shower. And when she showered, her wrists had been restrained, and he had washed her from head to toe. Each day of that, she had changed back into the same lavender nightgown. The experience had been humiliating.

Even presently, there was no lock on the inside of the bathroom door. It was locked on the outside too unless someone opened it for her, and they would stand outside until she was finished in case she tried anything. Once she did try to steal the keys off of one of Edmund's assistants, but that had ended up with a similar result to that of when she had destroyed the flowers.

Despite all of this, Edmund had insisted throughout it all that he only was protecting her. Maybe, he truly believed that, but she couldn't accept that; however, she was forced to go along with it. She had been following the rules for so long, and the memories of her breaking them were so terrible, that she couldn't snap out of the cycle of obedience even if her mind told her to.

Her hands dropped from the curtains, and her fingertips touched the hem of her cream-colored, silk nightgown. She wanted to shower and change, but Edmund was still fast asleep. And when he was asleep, that was better. Glancing back to his form, her eyes trailed over his exposed upper half, which she used to find attractive. Some part of her still did, but it was small, and she could push it aside easily. Now, it was hard to look past him being merely her delusional captor. Even the rings on her fingers, which she only wore when he was awake and in the room, did little to remind her that he was her husband.

Shifting her eyes over to her pillow and back to him, her mind told her that it would be so easy. He would be gone like that, but she'd probably be thrown into another prison unless she managed a way to escape, but he didn't keep the keys on him when he spent the night with her. No, like her, he would have to knock on the door and ask for them to be slid under the door. It was a risk, but he wouldn't take the larger risk of her stealing the keys when he was asleep, and he insisted on spending the nights with her occasionally.

A sigh parted from her lips, and she forced her eyes from the pillow before they averted over to the last two paintings on the wall behind the bed. The night they had spent at that hotel restaurant and the day when she had discovered the horrid fate he had in store for her. How she wished that she could tear them apart, but that would have the same effect as the roses, and he would replace them. He had paintings on standby in case she attempted such a thing; he had told her himself.

Feeling dejected, she seated herself on the floor by the bed and leaned her back against the mattress. Her (h/c) locks were in disarray and her face barren. She folded her hands on her lap and stretched her legs. Rarely, did she doll herself up like in the past. Now, she only did so when Edmund requested, well demanded "kindly," that she do so.

Part of her wished to break down and cry, but her tears were too dried up, and her whole body ached already. She simply was happy that she didn't have a mirror at the moment to spot all of the bruises on her skin, and she'd probably cover the bathroom mirror with a towel later on. Her eyes diverted over to the window.

The possibility of shattering the glass and breaking free tickled her mind, but it was hopeless. That glass was incredibly strong, and she had tried throwing a planter box at it when she had destroyed some of the roses back then; the metal planter box had bounced back and almost had knocked her over. Some of the roses then had flown out of the planter box, and if the thorns hadn't been removed, she would've received a few cuts.

Hands resting on her shoulders made her jump out of her thoughts. A light kiss was pressed to the left side of her head, and she knew better than to move away from it. "Good morning, my treasure." He chuckled lightly. "You shouldn't be sitting on the floor. Come join me on the bed."

"I ..." Another kiss was pressed to her cheek, and she went silent. His hands slipped from her shoulders, and she reluctantly stood up. Edmund's fingers intertwined with her right ones before he pulled her onto the bed with him. She landed on his lap, and her hands pressed against his chest some while her legs straddled his hips.

Tilting her chin up, he smiled to her and pecked her gently on the lips before he pulled back. His fingers trailed from her chin to her hair, and he brushed some of the locks back as he smoothed some of her hair back into place. Edmund shifted his eyes over to her neck, and his fingers touched some of the marks there. She winced slightly, but she didn't speak; she tried to ignore his supposedly affectionate gazes.

Moving her eyes off of him, they trailed back to the paintings on the wall. Each one framed to perfection so that their beauty could mock her endlessly, so that his deceptive nature could live on forever. Lips pressed against one of the marks, and she closed her eyes in slight pain from the soreness, but even the darkness couldn't save her from his well-crafted, framed deception.