Feitan Imagines

Jealousy is Killing Me

The rain sounded so sweet against the windows from upstairs. One of the joys you were gifted when Feitan left the basement door open. If only he granted you to see the rain once again, feel it on your skin. How long had it been since you had even been outside, or rather low long had it been since you were let outside. It had to be months, maybe even a year? Time was hard to tell down here, the only time you knew how long it had been was when you overheard Feitan mention the date or season when talking on the phone. But you couldn't remember the last time he mentioned the date, had been a few weeks ago? A few months? You weren't sure, to be honest. But at least the last time he mentioned it you realized you had been gone, stuck here, for about 6 months.

The basement wasn't nice, it was cold and dark. Which made sense, after all, it was where Feitan did his work. Forcing you to watch, to see exactly what he does when he needs to get details out of somebody, or when someone pisses him off. Closing your eyes never helped, Feitan just instructed you to keep them open unless you wanted to find yourself on the table. Dismemberment, cuts, removing organs one by one, you had seen it all. The worst was when he expected you to complement his work once he was done. Even if it meant forcing yourself to swallow the bile rising in your throat. Feitan was proud of his work and he expected his little love to be as well.

While the table was the last place you wanted to end, being in your position wasn't exactly that much better. Feitan liked to ensure you were "safe" when he was gone. To make sure you couldn't get away was the truth. Your ankle was cuffed and chained attached to the wall. It was a longer chain, allowing you to move around a bit. Mainly for being able to get to the table when Feitan asked you to help or to admire his work. You knew in his own sick little way he cared, he made sure you had somewhat a bed to lay on when he was gone. Always kept it clean, warm. Left you food and water. It was these little touches of affection that caused you to admire him in some sick way. To allow him to touch you a bit without flinching back too much. But it wasn't enough for him.

Footsteps were coming down the stairs, it sounded like two pairs. Great, Feitan was bringing more work home. Work he'd want to show off to you. As the door opened you were met with Feitan's dark stare, followed by some poor victim attached to a chain. It was best to avoid eye connect now, it was always easier when you were forced to assist. Easier when you felt like you hadn't made a connection of some sort with the poor person. They were led to the table and strapped down. There were no pleas of help or mercy, at least not loud enough to be heard. They were probably drugged then. Feitan hated when he had to drug them, according to him it made them less "fun". The clink of the tools, Feitan's voice demanding answers, then the first scream came. Your eyes shot up when you realized it was a women voice. The worse part was when you realized she looked a bit like you, just with shorter hair. This had to be some kind of psychological torture. Basically watching yourself being cut up by the man who swore he was doing what he was doing for the sake of love. If he even knew what love even meant. Feitan must have seen the resemblance because he didn't look as amused as usual. His cuts were shallow compared to others. He tried to ask questions, but every time she screamed or begged for mercy he seemed to grimace a bit. Maybe you were reading too much into this, Feitan didn't seem to mind torturing you when he first took you. Most were shallow cuts, but some were deep enough to leave scars. Especially when he insisted on branding you, leaving his name carved on your thigh. Anger suddenly crept into you, why was he showing so much more destain to hurting her than he did when he was slicing you? Why does she get the little pity Feitan seems to be able to poses while on that table? You sure didn't.

You couldn't hide your anger, your brows were furrowed. Your face almost looked like you were in pain. This was a different Feitan, a Feitan you wanted for yourself. Not for this random girl. Probably some girl who had information for the troupe. Your eyes were now locked on Feitan and her. You wanted to look away, but for some reason you were unable. Your anger only got worse when you realized between questions and cuts. Feitan seemed to be caressing the girl. He looked so gently touching her, even if it was followed by a cut of his knife. His hands lingered on her thighs and stomach. Fingers gently gliding over the skin. You wanted that, you wanted Feitan to be tender with you. It had been weeks since he even tried to touch you. Most likely due to the last time he had attempted, you had begged him not to. Since then, he had barely talked to you even. This wasn't fair, you didn't mean to be rude to him, you were just scared. But now you realized just how much his touches meant. How much you craved his tenderness. "What is it?" Feitan had addressed it at you. His face was blank, though you could swear there was a bit of confusion on it. "I-I...nothing." Feitan had appeared at your side extremely fast. Analyzing your body language and face. "Tell me." Was it worth angering him and saving your pride? No, you wanted him to be tender with you more. You wanted the Feitan you had seen glimpses of. "Is she dead?" Feitan lowered his body to the ground to be face-to-face with you. To be honest you hadn't realized you ended up sitting down, probably trying to avoid looking at the table. One of his hands shot to your side, squeezing a bit. "No. But soon. Now tell me." He was probably going to figure it out eventually anyway. Better to tell him the truth before he forces it out of you. "I, I just don't get it. Why were you touching her?" Now you were sure confusion was on his face. "The knife was." You shook your head. "No, you were touching her" your voice was barely a whisper. Even if the girl was a stranger and would probably be dead soon you didn't want her to know you were jealous of how he touched her. "You were being gentle when you weren't cutting her. Why?" It was tensed between you two. He just stared and you stared back. As much as you wanted to look away, it was too difficult to break eye contact. Feitan nodded. "Jealous." It was more to himself than to you. Suddenly he had uncuffed your ankle. Sweeping you up into his arms. Before leaving the room he paused at the door. Grabbing a knife he swiftly shot it towards the girl, hitting her directly in her forehead. She was dead. As Feitan took you up the stairs back into the warmth of his place his left a tender kiss on your forehead. "Your all mine." As sick as it was, that was all you wanted. You wanted tender Feitan, you'd learn your lesson. To never deny him again.