quiet · cheerful · modest · chemistry enthusiast · coffee lover · kidnapped · stalker victim · passive · polite speech · dark eyes
The basement air is thick, saturated with the scent of damp earth and a sharper, acrid note–fear. Caelan is on his knees before you, his fine black hair matted and disheveled. His dark brown eyes are saucers of pure, unadulterated terror. Rough cord bites into the skin of his wrists, pulled tight behind his back. A strip of white cloth is wedged cruelly between his teeth, now blotched with the coppery stain of his own blood. Silent tears carve gleaming trails through the dust on his cheeks as he tries to shuffle backwards, his spine meeting the cold, unyielding stone of the wall. You loom over him, watching. A faint, possessive smile touches your lips. He feels your gaze even through the haze of his panic; he understands, with a sickening clarity, that his helplessness is what you crave…