SEBASTIAN

I hated her.

God, I hated the way she made me feel. So small. So powerless. So... human. I was never meant to feel this much. To care this much. But every time she looks at me with those damn eyes, every time she screams and cries - I crack. I bend. And then I snap again. I sat in the corner of the basement, hands on my knees, my chest rising and falling with the kind of breath that tastes like fire. She was curled up near the wall like a broken bird. Bleeding. Trembling. Still beautiful.

"I hate you!" Her voice rang out like a knife through my skull. Good. Let her hate me. "That's right, cry." My voice was low. Calm. So calm it scared even me. "Cry, cry little bunny. Remember what you did. You wouldn't get punished if you didn't do stupid things." She didn't respond, just sobbed harder.

It hurt. It fucking hurt.

"No waffles tonight," I muttered. "No food at all. Remember that when you're starving tomorrow. Actions have consequences." Then she said it.

"I said I'd rather die!" My vision blurred red. My ears rang. I stormed across the room, knelt beside her, yanked her up by the chin so she was forced to look at me.

"If you want to die, Melisa," I whispered, teeth clenched, voice shaking, "I will be the one to make sure that happens. With my bare hands. Not anyone else. Not fate. Not some stranger. Me." She flinched, but I didn't move. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to strangle her. I wanted to hold her until the world forgot we existed.

"No matter what you do, I will never, ever like you... murderer!" Fuck. It hurt so much when she said it - like a knife straight to my chest. My Melisa... She called me a murderer. Am I really that bad in her eyes? I wanted her to love me back. But I didn't know how to do this gently. I didn't know how to be soft. All I knew was how to keep her. And I wasn't letting her go. "Then hate me. Push me away again and again - go ahead. You know what? I'll still be here, chasing you. I'll never get tired of you, you fucking little brat."

"I'll be with you until the end. If you want to die, I'll make sure it's in my arms. I'll be the one to do it, because I'm a murderer, right? The monster you created in your story... in your own world."

"So run, Melisa. Run, before I catch you. Because if I do, I swear... you'll never be free again." She is not responding and just staring at me helpless, that's right little bunny. Thats fucking right behave like a good little girl.

"Don't you ever run away from me Melisa, you will get tired but me? Never." I step out of the basement, locking the door behind me. I tied her wrists, not too tight, just enough. Just so she wouldn't try that again. My hands were shaking. Not from fear of her... but from fear of losing her.

"Master?" Andrew's voice pulled me back. Loyal. Always calm. "What's going on?"

"She's fine," I replied, brushing past him. "No food. No talking. Just... check in once in a while. That's all." He gave a concerned nod, but didn't ask questions. He knew better. Back in my office, I poured a drink. Whiskey. Two fingers. I sat behind my desk, trying to shake the guilt crawling up my spine.

My head was spinning, but all I could think about was her. My Melisa. My fragile little dove. Even in her hatred, she was beautiful. I hated how much I wanted her near me. I hated the way she haunted my thoughts. I hated... how much I didn't hate her at all.

A knock.

"Master," Andrew said, a tremble in his voice this time. "We have a problem. Ms. Melisa - she's bleeding. She collapsed." I dropped the glass. It shattered against the wood floor.

No. No. No. No. No.

I rushed through the hall, flinging the basement door open. She was there - pale, too pale, her breath shallow, her wrists raw. My chest caved in.

"Melisa - no. No, no, no - please." My voice cracked, the panic rising as I untied her, gathering her into my arms. "I didn't mean to. I was just trying to keep you safe. You can't leave me..." I carried her up to my room, the safest place in the house, and barked orders to Andrew.

"Call Dr. Reyes. Now. I don't care what time it is. Bring my doctor here. If she dies, I swear - " She won't. She can't. Because I'll die with her. The door creaked open. Dr. Reyes stepped out of the room, pulling off his gloves. His face was unreadable, but his eyes held the kind of seriousness that made my stomach twist. "She's stable now," he said. "I gave her fluids and treated the wounds. She lost more blood than I like, but she's strong. She'll pull through." I nodded stiffly, but inside, something clawed at me - rage. Not at the doctor. Not this time. He saved her. But the sight of his hands on her skin, even in the name of medicine, made my blood boil. No man should ever touch her. Not even to save her. But I let it slide. Just this once. Because she needed him more than she needed my jealousy. "Thank you," I said coldly. "She needs rest. And care," he added, leveling his gaze at me like a warning. "Proper care. I can't stress that enough." As if I didn't know that. As if I haven't been trying - failing - but trying. When he left, I stood at her door, watching her from the threshold. My little dove. Pale. Fragile. Breathing, thank God, she was breathing. I stepped inside and sat beside her. The scent of antiseptic and iron still hung in the air, but beneath it, she was still her. Mine.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. My voice almost broke. "I'm sorry I forgot you were hurt. I got scared... scared you'd leave me again. And I lose control when I'm scared." I brushed the hair from her forehead gently, letting my fingers linger. She flinched in her sleep, even unconscious, she could still feel my presence. She's scared of me. And it's my fault. But I won't lose her. Not now. Not ever.

"Sorry." I hated that word. I never used it. It sounded weak. Pointless. But now I was saying it? to her. To Melisa. I forgot what I did. I forgot that she was hurt because of me. Because of how I lost control. And now, she's here - bleeding, shaking - and still looking at me like I'm the only one she can count on. She's so dependent now. She wants me to fix it. To fix her. To be the one who saves her. She looked perfect. Even with blood smeared across her skin, staining her clothes. Maybe even more perfect like that. Andrew was shouting from the other room, already on the phone with the doctor, pacing like a maniac. But I didn't care. I didn't move. I didn't say anything. I just stared. Her body was still. Her breathing was uneven. But she was alive. The blood was fresh. Running down her arm. Her neck. I couldn't look away. I leaned closer, and without thinking - without even blinking - I touched the blood with my fingers. Then I tasted it. Just a little. The metallic flavor hit first, and then something else. Something faintly sweet. It hit the back of my throat, and suddenly I wasn't thinking about doctors or help or consequences. I just wanted more. She didn't flinch. She didn't push me away. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe part of her was just as ruined as me now. I stared at her face. Still beautiful. Still mine. And I made a quiet promise, right there, with her blood still on my tongue. She'll never run away from me again. I am thinking of putting her on drugs between these wonderful legs? Paralyzed? I smile.