My eyes drop to his chest as his arm slides around my waist and pulls me closer.
“Work been busy?” he asks.
I swallow and nod.
Every instinct in me tells me to move away. To create space. But I don’t; I stay where I am, body still, hands folded tightly against myself like I’m trying to hold everything in place.
I remind myself not to panic as Adrian rests his forehead against mine.
“You know I miss you when you’re gone,” he says softly. Then he kisses my forehead.
And there it is.
The guilt, settling in as though it belongs there. The way he does it so easily, turning absence into responsibility, distance into something I need to correct. Until I can’t tell where his feelings end and my blame begins.
His arm tightens slightly.
I press my hand against his chest, not pushing, just… creating space. A small boundary that doesn’t feel like one.
“Adrian…”
“I want you,” he says simply, kissing my cheek. His words aren’t gentle or soft, and something in my chest locks.
Because there’s no room in the way he says it for anything else. No hesitation, or question, just his expectation wrapped in his calm demeanor.
My breath catches.
I don’t want this, and that thought lands cleanly, sharply, too clear to ignore. I’ve learned what happens when I resist. When I make things difficult. When I turn something simple into something that has consequences.
So I don’t fight. Instead, I force my body to go still.
The version of me that argues, that reaches, that pushes back, steps back quietly, like it knows it won’t be needed here.
I make myself smaller without moving.
My mind drifts, slipping away from the room, from him, from the moment. Everything feels muted, distant, like I’m watching myself from somewhere far above. It’s the only way I know how to survive what comes next.
Quieter without speaking.
Not gone.
Just… distant.
It’s easier that way.
Safer.
That’s what I tell myself as the space inside me goes quiet, and I wait for the moment to pass like all the others do.
The pain is excruciating. My body is being used, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
Adrian calls this love. It isn’t. This is ownership, and I’m his toy.
Tonight, he wants pain, and my screams echo in my ears as he hurts me. Agony tears through my body as I lie still. I go to that place inside my head, far away from here.
Away from Adrian. Away from the pain. Away from the hurt.
I can’t do this anymore. This man is slowly breaking me apart; I’m no longer Eli. I’m Elijah, Adrian’s plaything.
