Chapter 9:The Burn of Hunger

I woke up in his bed again. Same sheets. Same scent. But this time, I was wearing his shirt.

My heart raced as I scanned the room. No windows. Only one locked door.

He entered with a tray of food — pancakes, strawberries, and milk.

"I'm not hungry," I snapped.

"You will be," he said, placing the tray beside me. "Or I'll feed you myself."

I turned away.

He chuckled, sitting down. "Still pretending you have control? Darling, every breath you take... I allow."

"You're insane."

He leaned in. "Then why are your thighs pressed together under the sheet?"

I froze. His eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction.

"I make you feel alive," he whispered. "Don't deny it."

"Let me go," I said, voice shaking.

"I'm not done with you yet."

Suddenly, he pulled my hand to his chest. His heartbeat was fast.

"You make me feel something. That should scare you more than any gun."

He stood up.

"I have errands," he said. "Be good while I'm gone."

The door shut.

And I let the tears fall.

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