Passion's Crossfire

Chapter 60

Mallory

Darkness remains my unwavering companion, the blindfold over my eyes a constant reminder of the captive existence I endure. Hunger gnaws at my stomach, a persistent ache that has become familiar in this desolate space. Matt hasn't been regular with meals, and the uncertainty of time exacerbates the torment. I don't know how long he has kept me here, trapped in this ominous place.

A creaking sound pierces through the silence, and I stiffen as Matt's presence fills the room. He appears after what feels like an eternity, his footsteps echoing in the chamber of my captivity. The blindfold restricts my vision, but his arrival is unmistakable. My throat is dry, and the words spill out, "I'm hungry, Matt."

Matt's response is a gentle caress against my cheek, his touch a stark contrast to the harsh reality of my surroundings. "Sorry, baby. You coming here was a surprise; I didn't plan on food," he murmurs, his words carrying an unsettling sense of nonchalance.

A surge of frustration courses through me. "I didn't come here. You brought me by force," I assert, my voice trembling with defiance.

Matt's laughter echoes in the darkness, a chilling sound that reverberates through the air. "You know deep down you wanted to come here with me. You wanted this," he insists, his delusions apparent in every word.

The denial slips past my lips, fueled by an indignant anger. "No, Matt. I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this," I declare, my words a futile attempt to shatter the distorted reality he has crafted.

His mood shifts, the laughter replaced by a snarl of frustration. "You're lying!" he snaps, his grip on my shoulders tightening.

I wince at the pain, my resolve unbroken. "I'm not lying, Matt. I never wanted to be here with you. You can't force someone to love you," I assert, the truth cutting through the twisted narrative he clings to.

His anger flares, and he grabs my face with a force that sends sharp pangs through my jaw. "You're mine, Mallory. You'll see. Once you understand, everything will be better," he growls, his delusions escalating into a dangerous obsession.

Tears prick at the corners of my blindfolded eyes, a silent testament to the despair that engulfs me. "I'll never belong to you, Matt. Love isn't built on fear and force," I whisper, clinging to the shreds of my dignity.

His hand releases its grip, and I hear him pacing in the darkness, the tension thickening the air. "You don't understand," he mutters, a mix of frustration and desperation coloring his words. "We're supposed to end up together, Mallory. We're soulmates," he declares, the conviction in his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

My breath catches at the audacity of his claim. "Why did you break up with me then?" I demand, my voice laced with frustration.

A bitter laugh escapes Matt's lips. "I was a fool. I thought it was the right thing to do, but I was wrong," he admits, a twisted sincerity coloring his words.

"Why did you change your mind?" I press, a sense of unease settling in.

"When I saw you with Adam," Matt admits, his tone shifting to a possessive growl. "I realized I can't live without you. Nobody can have you, Mallory."

Fear grips me as Matt suddenly draws close, his breath hot against my ear. A finger traces circles on my arm, and he whispers, "You haven't given yourself to him, right?"

I swallow hard, the blindfold concealing the turmoil in my eyes. I refuse to dignify his question with a response. Matt's grip on my arm tightens, and he repeats, "Have you?"

My silence speaks volumes, and Matt's grip tightens on my arm. Panic rises within me, and I swallow hard, refusing to answer. His demand hangs in the air, and the atmosphere thickens with tension.

"Answer me, Mallory!" Matt's voice rises, his frustration boiling over.

"This is none of your business," I retort, my defiance unwavering.

In an instant, his hand connects with my cheek in a sharp, stinging slap. The force of the blow sends shockwaves through my head, and I recoil from the pain. "Whore! You slept with him! How dare you?" Matt's voice erupts in a scream, the anger turning into a torrent of accusations.

My cheek throbs, and I can taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Matt's anger rages like a tempest, the air heavy with tension. His threats linger in the darkness, a sinister echo of the nightmare I'm trapped in. "You shouldn't have slept with him, Mallory," he snarls, the words dripping with venom.

Terror tightens its grip around my heart, rendering me silent, my voice stolen by the fear that courses through my veins. Matt's descent into madness intensifies. He spirals into a torrent of screams, mutters, and incomprehensible ramblings. He calls me names, belittling every fiber of my being. The blindfold conceals his expressions, but the venom in his words is enough to paint a gruesome picture. The room echoes with his tirade, a cacophony of rage and desperation.

After what feels like an eternity, the storm begins to subside. Matt's once-ferocious demeanor gives way to something unexpected – vulnerability. He breaks down, his cries reverberating through the desolate space. His head rests on my lap, and the sobs wrack his frame.

"Things weren't supposed to go like this," he confesses between sobs. His voice, now reduced to a whimper, holds a haunting sincerity. "You were supposed to come back to me when I first reached out to you, that night I came to your house. We could be happy now, Mallory. It could have been so different."

His words, tinged with regret, create a dissonance in the air. The dichotomy of his emotions is disconcerting – from rage to despair. The blindfold prevents me from seeing the turmoil etched on his face, but the weight of his presence on my lap is a tangible reminder of the disturbed soul unraveling before me.

"I love you, Mallory. I can make everything better," he pleads, the desperation in his voice clawing at my sanity. The duality of his character unfolds in this moment of vulnerability, leaving me torn between the fear of the monster he becomes and the sorrow of the broken man he reveals.

The room, suffused with the heavy scent of despair, becomes a stage for the unraveling of a disturbed mind. I navigate this dark theater of emotions, my silent prayers echoing in the chambers of my heart, hoping for an end to this nightmare.