"You'll exist in a world where I can't always be touching you."
Not 'we'll exist.' You'll.
I'd been so stupid. So trusting. Believed every word while he prepared my exit. The new apartment, the money, even teaching me to tolerate distance—all of it groundwork for abandonment.
"But you said you loved me." Arguing with memories now, completely unhinged. "Said I was yours. Said—"
"Being mine doesn't mean physical proximity."
Oh god. He'd told me. Warned me. I'd just been too desperate, too deep in submission to hear the real message. He'd been saying goodbye for days, and I'd thought it was training.
The sobs came harder, my body curling in on itself. Without thinking, my thumb went to my mouth—self-soothing behavior he'd encouraged. But that just made it worse because he'd taught me that too. Taught me to comfort myself because he wouldn't be there to do it.
"Mr. Hoppy," I gasped, sudden hope flaring. "Mr. Hoppy would be—"
But frantic searching revealed no stuffed bunny. No paci hidden in drawers. No physical reminders of the soft parts he'd uncovered. Just the clothes and the money and this empty apartment that felt like an expensive tomb.
I crawled to the closet again, pulled out the white dress from that first day. Pressed it to my face, desperatefor any lingering scent of that room, that moment, that beginning of everything. But it smelled like expensive dry cleaning. Sterile. Empty.
"Please come back." Whispering to fabric now, completely gone. "Please, I'll be better. Won't burn anything. Won't need so much touch. Won't be so needy. Please—"
"Thank you for letting me witness your transformation."
Past tense. He'd been speaking in past tense that last night, and I'd been too grateful, too deep in the moment to notice.
"Tomorrow we get to keep teaching each other."
But he'd known there would be no tomorrow. Known while I read my pathetic letter, while I served him one last time, while I fell asleep trusting in forever.
The laptop drew me like a magnet. Maybe there would be—
But it was factory new. No files, no history, no breadcrumbs leading back to him. Even the wallpaper was generic. Like I was supposed to start fresh, build a new life on the ashes of who I'd become.
"I don't want a new life!" Screaming at technology that didn't care. "I want the one you promised! Want to kneel by your chair and cook your meals and—"
My hands moved without conscious thought, fingers finding the browser. Maybe I could find the Institute, find him, explain there'd been a mistake. That I hadn't asked to leave. That I'd chosen to stay, chosen him, chosen forever.
But searching for the Serenity Institute yielded nothing. Like it didn't exist. Like the last twelve weeks had been feverdream or psychotic break. No evidence of the place that had destroyed and rebuilt me.
"This can't be happening." But even as I said it, I understood with horrible clarity that it was. This was always the plan. Take broken women, fix them enough to function, then release them back into the world with money and a fresh start.
I'd just been stupid enough to believe I was different. Special. Worth keeping.
"You're mine forever,"he'd said.
But forever had lasted exactly twelve weeks.
The money mocked me from the counter. More than enough to build any life I wanted. Except the only life I wanted was the one where I woke up in his arms, made his coffee, knelt at his feet, served his needs. The life where Bunny existed as more than memory.
"I can't." The words came out broken, directed at the cash like it might listen. "Can't be Lilah again. She's dead. You killed her. Killed her and built Bunny and now—"
Now Bunny was homeless. Collarless. Abandoned in a nice apartment with designer clothes and enough money to pretend the last twelve weeks never happened.
But they had happened. Every moment was carved into my bones, written in muscle memory, encoded in responses I couldn't turn off. I still wanted to kneel when distressed. Still sucked my thumb for comfort. Still felt phantom collar around my throat.
Still loved him with every atom of my rebuilt self.
"Please." I wasn't even sure what I was begging for anymore. For him to appear. For this to be another test. For thepain to stop. "Please, Daddy. I'll be so good. Already miss you so much. Already—"
