You could try to escape.
You could try to run.
But you won't do that at all.
You won't be leaving him.
Not now, not ever.
It was dark in the room, granted for the few rays of sunlight that spilt through the cracks of the curtains.
You sat there on the bed, silent.
He stood in front of you, silent.
König.
A contract killer for Kortac.
Your hair tied into a messy braid he so badly attempted to make you with his own hands.
The hands same hands he used to kill with.
A small smile formed on his lips at the sight of you. You were too small, so vulnerable in his eyes. He reached out, undoing the chain he had wrapped around your ankle.
You were his.
His pet.
His prized possession.
You were no longer your own person.
It fell to the floor with a soft clatter, and before you could say anything, he was already kneeling in front of you.
He took your hand with his calloused fingers and kissed it as he looked up, eyes locking with yours.
"What...what are you doing?"
"Just admiring mein haustier {my pet}."
He took your other hand and looked at it, tracing his rough fingers over it. His gaze shifted back up to your face, almost trying to burn your face into his memory.
"Mein süßes kleines haustier {my cute little pet}."
Crazy.
Mad.
Psychotic.
The man was a killer, yet he was treating you like you were a doll.
A fragile doll.
You felt his hand release your own as he reached up to brush your hair away from your face.
You were beautiful.
Perhaps that is why he took an absolute obsession with you.
"Look at you."
His eyes raked over your features. There was a sort of reverence, in a way.
Like he was admiring a piece of artwork.
"You're so beautiful, y/n."
Except, of course, you were not a piece of art. You were real.
You were a living, breathing human being.
But to him, you were a fragile piece of artwork in his eyes. One that needed to be hidden from the world.
Stashed away.
Perhaps this softness, this delicacy of yours was what that fueled his desire. For you. He was a man used to harshness, to violence.
Those were things he could understand.
He saw death everyday.
He saw the world as a nuisance.
But your beauty, your softness; he craved it like a starving animal.
He couldn't understand you.
You were a masterpiece.
Carved by God himself.
A flower among weeds.
He wanted to feel you beneath him, your own hands tugging his hair, your breathing growing ragged in his ear as he fucked you.
"König...please. Please let me go."
Your voice broke his train of thought as you spoke quietly.
"Let you go? Why would I do that, liebe?"
His voice was cold. Blunt. His body towered over yours as he stood up with you still on the bed.
He took your chin, forcing your head to roughly look up at him. His grip was tight, but not painful. Like he was trying to hold himself back.
"I hate it here."
"That's too bad."
He found it funny how you would still try to leave.
Didn't you understand?
Didn't you understand what it meant for you to leave him all alone in this big, empty house?
This was your home now.
Your voice was just too sweet to him, your begging too adorable. You were practically on your hands and knees.
How cute.
The way your chest rose and fell with your quickened breaths. How your eyes were glued on his own.
Oh, if only it were that easy, y/n.
For you to escape his grasp.
"I won't tell anyone, I swear, König. Just let me go, please."
His expression changed. The playfulness gone, now replaced with annoyance.
Why couldn't you just accept your fate, y/n?
He pushed your body down to the bed, staring down at you with annoyance and anger. His hands trembling with rage, his voice quiet and controlled.
"Why can't you understand?"
His voice was like a knife in your ear.
"You're never leaving me. You're never leaving this house."
You heart was pounding in your throat. Every survival instinct in you was screaming, begging you to run, to escape, to fight back.
And yet, you don't do anything.
You just stare up at him, wide-eyed and terrified.
"König, please. I don't want to be here."
You were terrified of him, terrified of what he was going to do to you.
You just want to be away from him, away from this house, away from this dark, horrible nightmare.
His hand grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him, like you had no choice in the matter.
And you didn't.
You had no choice.
No say.
You were his.
"I don't fucking care, y/n. Why do you think I took you? Why do you think I hid you away?"
His voice was full of hate and amusement. You could see it in his eyes, feel the tension in the air.
"No one else in the world will look at you the way I do. No one will love you like I do."
There was no going back, no escape.
"König please."
You're begging him. Crying. Pleading for him to let you go. You know you're going to be killed, you just know it.
You knew him, his past, and his dark secrets. Regardless of his obsession towards you, he could kill you.
He could kill you in the end.
You need to escape, y/n.
Your mind raced. How? Your eyes darted around the room for anything. Anything to hit him with to take your chance to escape.
The room was almost bare. Aside from your bed, the only real objects in it was an old, night table and an old-fashioned mirror that hung on one of the walls near a window.
As you looked around desperately, hoping to find something to save you, his grip tightened on your chin.
"Look at me when I am speaking to you, y/n."
You teary eyes fell onto a book.
The book.
He was considerate enough to leave you a book to keep yourself entertained.
How kind of him.
How so very kind of him.
You grabbed it, thankful that it was close to you as you hit him on the side of the head.
Hard.
The book made contact with his head, as he staggered back in pain. Blood dripped from the open wound above his eyebrow. You could see his hand covering holding the spot where you hit him.
"You hit me. Well fuck me, y/n. You actually hit me."
You scrambled out the bed, almost falling as you bolted for the door. When you went to push the door open, your heart dropped.
It was locked.
He was smart enough. He knew that you would attempt an escape as soon as he turned his back. He always knew.
"No, no, no, no!"
"Wow, y/n. You're a feisty little haustier {pet}."
It was almost like he wanted you do this kind of thing.
Slowly, he stepped towards you, his wound bleeding profusely from the book. Amusement laced in his voice.
"Y/n, liebe, what are you doing? You'll get hurt, you know."
Your eyes fell onto the window.
The window.
That was your only choice right now.
And so you took it.
Before he could even react, you threw yourself at the window, the sound of crashing glass deafening your ears.
"Y/n!"
You felt your body hit the ground, the glass digging into your skin. Your body ached in pain as you scrambled to your feet, almost overwhelming.
But you didn't stop.
No.
You needed to get away.
So you ran.
It was darker outside than it was in the room you were held captive in. The sun had set, the moon illuminating the forest before you.
The grass was overgrown and wild, and the ground was full of tiny, sharp sticks that threatened to pierce the soft flesh of your bare feet.
You almost wished you didn't leave your room.
You almost wished you were back on that bed, his rough hands on your skin...
No.
You needed to get away.
And so, you didn't stop running. Even if it meant your feet will be covered in bloody cuts and scratches, so be it.
You had to get away. And quickly.
The sound of his footsteps behind you were getting closer. His voice reaching out to you, calling your name out.
"Y/n. Y/n, come on. It's stupid for you to run you know."
It was stupid, yes.
You were in a place you didn't know anything about.
You were as clueless as a newborn baby after it was born.
He knew the woods well.
He knew this area so so well.
How could he not?
The man lived here.
Your clothes caught onto sharp branches and tiny twigs, threatening to tear and rip. Your bare feet already covered in bloody cuts and deep scratches.
But that didn't stop you.
You're running for your life.
Remember?
You duck between trees and rocks, using every obstacle you can to keep him from reaching you.
That was when you heard it.
The sound of a gunshot.
But he missed...did he?
No...that wouldn't be like him...
Another gunshot rang through the air.
He was shooting at you.
He was toying with you.
"You're shooting at me?! Are you crazy?!"
Your voice echoed through the woods. You couldn't believe you just spoke. Your mind screaming at you to stay silent, yet here you were, screaming at him.
Idiot.
From the way he was moving, he knew where you are. Of course he would know; he's a trained killer, hunting you with with ease.
What a perfect little target you made in that moonlit night.
Oh how close he is, y/n.
So very close.
"Crazy? I'm chasing you in a fucking forest. Crazy is far from it."
He was toying with you indeed.
As you moved through the dark of the forest, you turned your head, seeing him in the moonlight, just far enough away that you couldn't see his face.
But you knew.
You knew he was watching you.
Following you with no problem at all.
His eyes were following your every movement. His feet following your every movement.
And you could feel it. As if yours and his connection was like a physical rope pulling you through this god forsaken forest.
Closer to his grasps.
Another shot pierced the air.
You prayed he missed.
Only this time, he didn't.
You screamed in pain as the bullet penetrated your flesh in the upper right shoulder. Your body hit the cold, dewed ground with a hard thud, and your breath knocked out of your chest.
One shot, one kill.
Only you weren't dead.
Yet.
He made his way to you, his body towering over your as he watched you.
You writhing in pain.
You crying.
Your clothes stained with blood.
Your scratched face and arms.
"Wow. You look like a mess. I think I like you looking like this more than you chained to your bed."
He liked it.
No.
He loved it.
Loved this look on you.
"K-König...it hurts..."
"Oh, liebe."
He crouched down beside you, his hand running through your mangled hair. His eyes scanned your features, taking in every small detail.
"I know it does. That's the point of a gun."
He rose back to his feet, picking you up as if you were nothing but a rag doll. You cried out in pain as your injured arm was almost forced out of its socket, but he only smiled down at you as he began to carry you through the forest. Your fingers cling onto his shirt, afraid to let go.
How funny.
You were clutching onto him like a life line.
But he's all that you have.
Whether you like it or not.
You are his prized possession after all.
"I hate you." You angrily muttered.
"And I love you." He happily replied.
You could see the light of his house now across the field. You try to fight, to kick your legs to make him let you go. But the only thing you manage to do is further injure your arm.
"Scheiße, y/n. Stop squirming or I'll put a bullet into your other shoulder."
As quick as you were to struggle out of his grasp, you ceased your movements.
He carried you into the house, shutting the door behind him. You tried one desperate last time to get away. One final attempt at kicking him in the knee that did absolutely nothing.
You were trapped.
Back in the house.
Back in his house.
He placed you down on the living room couch as you found yourself too exhausted to do anything.
"Please don't kill me, König...please."
You couldn't tell if he would after your little attempt to run away.
But it didn't hurt to beg.
"I would never."
He knelt down in front of you, his eyes scanning your form, his touch gentle.
"You are far more valuable to me alive."
He stroked your hair, pulling it back from your face. His smile came back, and you can't help but have that awful feeling that he is amused by your fear.
"And I am far more concerned in keeping something I've put so much effort to keep to myself alive."
His eyes fell onto your lips.
The same dark eyes that held nothing but violence and death.
The same dark eyes that held nothing but his complete love and adoration for you.
You are after all, his prized possession; his artwork.
His fingers ran over your cheek and neck, his touch almost too tender for him. But you can't deny how good it feels.
How the soft touch causes you to relax, just a little, even with a hole in your shoulder. You're stuck here. In his home. Forever.
You are his masterpiece, after all.
His perfect, flawless creation.
And he will make sure that you will be his for a very long time.
"Because you are prized possession, y/n."