Predator (DWT x OC)

11

I wake the next morning on my own. The spot right next to me is still warm, Dream obviously just  having left the bed. 

Oh right. 

The memories of yesterday come flooding back in, and I'm mortified by my moment of weakness. I mean what was I thinking? Helping and comforting my enemy, the man who kidnapped me to use as leverage against the people I love most. 

I sit up, rubbing my eyes sleepily, Dream no where to be found. I go to the table where the med kit still sat open. I unwrap the bandage from my left arm, which has healed almost completely, and redress the wound on my cheek, which is also almost healed. I crack my shoulders and back out, bored already of the day.

Today would have been one of my favourite days. The calm before the storm, where the air cackles with electricity and tension, and it smells like rain, where wind whips around fiercely, and the sky turns a dark grey. I look out longingly, wanting feel my feet in the grass, sit and fish by the river and embrace the thunder as it rumbles through the sky, but I can't. 

Dream comes back in, holding two steaming bowls. He sets one down in front of me, filled with porridge and topped with brown sugar. We both sit in silence as we eat, refusing to acknowledge the events of the day before. Which, is fine by me. The awkwardness hangs heavily in the air, but neither of us make any attempt to break it. 

I'm already dreading a day of being trapped inside again, unable to even breathe fresh air. I'm sick of behaving, sick of being a good little prisoner who stays nice and quiet in her cell and never complains. I don't know how much longer of being deprived of the outside I can take, and so the question slips past my lips before I can stop it.

"Can I go outside today?"

"No."

 He doesn't even glance up at me, still scooping sticky porridge out of his bowl and shovelling it into his mouth. I'm taken aback, silent for a moment before a hot flush of anger sweeps through me.

"What do you mean no? I've done everything you've asked, I haven't tried to escape, I haven't made problems, I even sewed your cheek back together!" My voice is rising as I stand up, knocking over my chair. "And even still, you won't let me fucking breathe fresh air? That's all I want, is to go outside, you can give me a guard and everything. I just can't stay in here anymore!"

He stops chewing and looks at me, face filled with anger. His eyes blaze, mouth pressing into a thin line. "I don't trust you. And you don't call the shots, remember? You can go outside when I say you can go outside." He snaps. And I really should stop pushing it, because his face is now displaying an emotion akin to homicidal rage, but I'm too worked up about his. 

"Go fuck yourself. You psychopathic, egotistical fucking cu-" My words cut off with a squeak as he suddenly stands up. His jaw is clenched tightly, fists twitching and I suddenly realise I've made a very big mistake. He stalks forward towards me, and I stumble back, trying to keep the distance between us. I push my hands out in defence, cowering away from him as he strides closer. 

My back hits the wall far sooner than I thought it would. I'm cornered. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest, and I'm trying to calm my erratic breathing and trembling hands. 

Dream gets right up in my face, barely an inch away, towering over me. I'm at my wits end, sick of people getting into my personal space, sick of never being listened to, or my boundaries respected, and I'm fuming at his reaction to my question. It's bubbling, rising to the surface and I can feel my fists curling themselves into balls, face morphing into a snarl as I stare right back at him, refusing to cower anymore. 

"Get away from me." I growl, but he doesn't move, and I can feel the heat rising into my face. And then he does that fucking smirk that he always does and before my brain can even process what's happening, my right arm swings, and I slap him hard across his face.