psychotic // l.h.

1 - the room

 

“What’s your name?” I asked, stalling and making sure to stay back as far as possible. He blinked at me a few times, a confused look crossing his face as he seemed to rummage through his brain, seeming to forget his name.

 

“Luke.” He croaked out, his voice hoarse from crying and screaming. He backed up to the wall opposite me, sliding down and tucking his head between his legs, wrapping his arms firmly around his knees. He didn’t move and I were afraid to even breathe.

 

“Luke?” I asked for him, just loud enough for him to hear. His head snapped up and he harshly wiped at his eyes with his hands.

 

“Yes, Darling.” He said, the pet name making me feel queasy but I shoved the feeling aside and tried to think of a way out of this.

 

“How many have there been before me. The people you brought here.” I asked, trying to make the question seem simple and to find as much information as possible.

 

“13. But they didn’t love me like you do, they had to go. I had to get rid of them.” He said and my eyes zeroed in on the stains on the walls. I felt a sob erupt from my throat as realization dawned on me and I covered your mouth with your hands.

 

“Please don’t cry. I don’t want to make you cry. Please, stop.” he said, his sweet tone returning as he shuffled over to me and put his hand on my shoulder, sitting next to me and making me shake even harder.

 

“I love you so much, nothing will stop me from loving you. I may have to punish you if you do something that breaks my heart, but it’s for your own good. You’re mine.” he whispered into my hair and I tried to stop crying and shaking. His presence was cold and uninviting but he held me like I was the only thing keeping him alive. So I leaned on him, I allowed him to comfort me and kiss my forehead, run his fingers through my hair and hum a tune that had no patterns, just random notes jumbled together.

 

“You’re so cold.” He said, touching my hands lightly with his lips brushing against my neck.

 

“I don’t have anything else.” I replied, and he continued to gently run his fingers through my hair, combing out the knots gently, taking care not to tug harshly.

 

“You can have a hoodie of mine. You can leave the room with me. But you can’t leave me; I’m not going to let you leave me. Never ever.” He said and I felt your heart rate pick up when his fingers grazed the skin on the back of my neck.

 

“You’re not going to kill me are you?” I asked and he laughed lightly, his chapped lips stretching widely.

 

“No silly, I’m not going to kill you. I might do other things if you try to leave, but you wouldn’t do that to me.” He said with a caring tone, pulling me up to my feet and leading me to the door of the room, me stumbling slightly on the way but he didn’t take notice as he yanked the door open and light from the other room almost blinded me since my eyes had adjusted so much to the dark.

 

“This is the kitchen, you can make food if you want but I think you’ll be spending most of your time in my room.” He said leading me through the normal looking house and upstairs. There were no paintings on the walls and the only indication that someone lived here were the scribbles on the walls that looked like they were made from crayons. He opened the door to what I guessed was his bedroom and I saw scribbles everywhere. Some of people, eyes, hands, circles, mouths, everything. I couldn’t make out what some of them were. I walked to the bed and looked at one and gasped when I realized it was me. Drawings of my face, my hands, my eyes and mouth and body.

 

“Do you like them?” He asked, still watching from the doorway, his stance rigid and his jaw clenched.

 

“T-they’re beautiful.” I answered, running my hands along the edges of them, lightly touching his drawing of my mouth.

 

“They’re for you.” He said, and moved quickly to sit on the bed next to me. His eyes were hard and emotionless.

 

“What are you going to do with me?” I asked, trying my best to ignore his stare and looking at my hands folded in my lap.

 

“I’m not sure.” He replied, running a hand through his hair and tugging at his roots again.