Chris's POV

I knocked on the door, waiting for Mike to come to open it. I know it's really early, but I don't want to be alone, and I don't want to be with Ange.

Mike opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. I walked inside, just standing there and waiting for Mike. He closed the door and turned back to me.

"Go sit down. You gotta be quiet though." He told me.

I nodded and sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen.

He came over and sat across from me. He sighed. "What happened, Chris?"

"N-nothing important." I said. "I just don't wanna be alone."

"Well, it had to have been something. Didn't Angelo help you? I called him."

"Yeah, but he was being kinda mean."

"I doubt he was actually being mean. He probably just said something you didn't like." He spoke.

"Well, yeah. He was trying to get me to eat, and stay at his house, and stuff." I mumbled.

"You have to eat, Chris. You'll die."

I shrugged.

He looked up at me, staring at me.

"What's that mark?" He asked, pointing to my neck.

There were bruises all over me.

"It's nothing." I said.

He shook his head, standing. "It's not nothing."

He came over to me and moved my hair to the side. I winced as he touched it, moving down my neck. He pulled my shirt out of the way and I heard him gasp.

"Jesus Christ, Chris. What the fuck did you do?" He asked.

"He got mad at me again."

"Of course he did." Mike spoke. "What did you do this time?"

"H-he wants Ryan and I'm not doing it fast enough for him." I muttered.

"That's why Ry found your house? Because you're trying to lead him to you?"

"Y-yeah. Well, at first. And then I met him. I don't want to give him Ryan. Ryan doesn't deserve that." I said.

"Why?"

"Because Ryan seemed to genuinely care whether or not I was okay, and I missed that feeling."

He sighed. "You have to do what he wants, Chris. I may care about Ryan, but you know he'll hurt you if you keep him from what he wants."

"I'm scared that he'll put me in the room again, Mike." I whispered. "I don't want to go back there."

"I'm not going to tell you he won't do that, because I'm not sure that he won't. He's capable of anything." He said. "Why don't you tell me why you're afraid of the room, Chris?"

"B-because. It's scary and awful and I hate it. It's dark and lonely." I told him.

"You know he's a sadistic fuck. Anything he does is scary and awful. Why do you think I left?"

"I thought you were exiled?"

"I was. I was exiled because I wanted to leave." He said. "I wanted to leave because he was cruel and sadistic. And because I told him I was done, he exiled me, and I can never go back to Hell."

"But why is he like that?"

"Because it's in his nature. It's how he's always been."

"I'm scared of him." I said.

"You should be. No one blames you for being afraid of him. Many are." He told me. "I'd be worried if you weren't scared of him."

"But, the room, Mike...I don't want to go back."

"Why don't you tell me about the room. Maybe talking about it will help you be less scared of it." Mike suggested.

"O-okay..." I started. "I was 18 when he put me in there. I'd only belonged to him for a year. He said that every other attempt to break me had failed and that it was his only option. He told me that I would be alone with only my thoughts. He said that it would drive me to insanity, just so he could pull me back. I-I remember the first day I was in there. He told me that I wasn't getting food for a week, and then I would begin to get fed once a week. I tried to fight and beg him not to put me in there, but h-he did. He locked me in. It was so dark and empty. There was no light, no sound. It was so quiet that I could hear my heartbeat. I screamed for hours until nothing would come out anymore, and I remember clawing at the door until I was bleeding. I was cold. I had no clothes or blankets or anything. I was in an empty, pitch black room. He kept me there for 4 years. That's why I can't be in the light for a long time. My eyes and skin are sensitive to it. I-I'm scared of it because I had nothing but my thoughts for years. I was hallucinating and talking to myself and hurting myself. He came in twice I think, in those 4 years to hurt me and insult me. But I remember loving it because it was the only contact I had in so long."

There were tears running down my cheeks. Mike came around and hugged me. "I won't let him put you back in there, Chris. I'll hide you if I have to." He said. "You can't choose to leave like I did, because you're property. I'm free. And I wish you had the option to leave."

Just then, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around fast, seeing Ryan standing there.

He looked between me and Mike, seeming confused.

"Why are you up so early, Ry?" Mike asked.

"Work." He said, walking past me and over to Mike.

Mike hugged him, kissing his cheek. "Would you like some coffee?"

He nodded. Mike stood and poured him a cup. Why didn't he say anything to me? Did he not notice me? Does he think I'm following him? Is he mad at me?

Ryan turned around and leaned on the counter.

"I have to go wake Ricky up and get him ready for work." Mike said.

"Okay." Ryan mumbled. He looked at me. "Hello."

I smiled. "Hi."

"How come you're here?" He asked.

"I was talking to Mike."

He nodded, drinking his coffee. "So you know him?"

I nodded. "We haven't really spoken in a while, but yeah."

"Oh. Okay." He said.

He sat down, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Thank you again, for helping me." He said.

"It was no problem." I told him.

He smiled.

It was silent for a while. He seemed to be thinking. I have to get him to like me. I need him to like me. I don't want to hurt him, but Mike was right. If I don't do it, I'll get hurt.

"Do you wanna go to dinner?" I asked him.

He looked up. "Um, sure. That sounds nice."

I smiled. "Tonight?"

"I work until 5, but after that is fine." He said.

"Is 7 okay?"

He nodded. "Good."

"I'll see you later." I said. "Tell Mike I said goodbye."

I got up and left Mike's house. I didn't want to stay too long.

My phone rang and I looked to see who it was. It was him. Why was he calling?

"H-hello?" I answered.

"I want you here." He spoke. "Now."

"Yes, Master." I whispered. "I-I'm on my way."

"Good boy." He said before hanging up.

I sighed. I'm scared. What if he hurts me again? I don't want to get hurt again. He's scary when he's mad. 

~~~~~~~

I entered his castle, expecting to see him on his throne, as he usually was. He probably just wanted to hurt me again. I shuddered when I saw that he was, in fact, not on his throne, because the only other place he'd be is his bedroom. His bedroom is even scarier. There's lots of things he can use to hurt me in there. 

I slowly walked up multiple flights of stairs and down a hallway, before reaching his bedroom. I knocked on the door.

"Enter." I heard him say.

I pushed the door open and went inside, shutting the door behind me. He smirked when he saw me, standing from his place on the bed and walking over to me. I noticed that he was naked. I hope he isn't going to hurt me again.

I tensed as he ran his fingers through my hair, across my cheek, and down my neck. Why is he being gentle like this? He almost never does this. 

"You've been such a good boy, Chris." He mused.

"N-no I haven't." 

"Mmmm, but you have." He spoke. "I know what you did before. And that's why you're a good boy."

"W-What?"

"You're getting him closer to you, and you know that's what I want." 

"O-oh."

His breath smelt of alcohol. That explains a lot. 

"Come lay with me. I have something for you." He said, pulling me towards his bed. 

I'd laid with him naked before  and I've seen him plenty of times, so I don't know why it feels so weird this time. 

He pushed me down, hovering over me. "M-Master, what-"

He covered my mouth. "Shhh..."

He reached over the side of the bed to pick something up off of the floor. He showed me a bottle of clear liquid that said "Ciroc" across the top. I wonder what that is. 

I bit my lip. I wanted to ask him to stop, but I knew he'd get mad. He wasn't being mean now, and I wanted to keep it that way even though I was uncomfortable. 

I watched him drink from the bottle before grabbing my chin with his other hand. He pried my mouth open with his other hand and poured it into my mouth. I choked a little, before swallowing it, my throat burning. I coughed. It was alcohol. I don't like it.

"Good boy." He said. "Sit up."

I did what he said and moved so that I was leaning against the headboard of his bed. He placed the bottle in my hand. 

"Drink it." He ordered. "I want you to finish it."

The bottle was about half full. I didn't want to finish it. I don't want to get drunk. I didn't like the way it felt. I sighed, lifting the bottle and taking a sip of the bitter liquid. 

"You're such a good boy." 

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Comment what y'all think is gonna happen.

lmaO it's deadass been almost a year since I updated this story and it just keeps getting more and more fucked up oops. All of my stories are fucked up tbh. sorrynotsorry. 

Also, I feel like my writing ability keeps getting worse with time instead of getting better, and its highkey frustrating. 

I'm trying to get most of my stories updated, but I've had all the fuckin writers block and shit.

~xxRy