Three days have passed, and the only thing that has changed is the collar around her neck- no longer a fury pink but now a burgundy leather. Her neck no longer irritated, but the cold leather still served as a reminder that she's a prisoner. Cherry scratched the exposed skin of her neck as she poked at her egg with her fork, her gaze clambering from her plate to Brandon, who had already wolfed down his food and was now prodding at her with his indifferent look.
Her heart moved with a light bounce under his attention, but she couldn't help but pout. "Don't worry, you chained me well to this stupid chair. No need to look at me like that."
His eyes flickered to the red tips of her ears, watching them gain a red glow. "Eat."
Now, I don't want to eat at all. She pursed her lips and pushed her plate away. "Can I see my parents?"
"Do you love me?" He retorted, causing Cherry's brow to twitch.
"When will you get this off my neck?" She tugged at the chain.
"Do you love me?"
She gritted, "Isn't it enough that I have been listening to you this whole time? I even let you have your way with me this morning."
His eyes roasted to a darker shade as they flickered to her lips, still swollen from their morning make-out session. He licked his lips, tasting her lingering sweetness.
"Hey!" She snapped her fingers in front of him and then pointed with her middle and index fingers at her dark brown eyes, which were narrowed into flat, bitter slits. "Eyes up here, husband."
He snickered, "Nothing wrong with appreciating what's mine."
She pursed her lips, withholding the profanity that was eager to be released. "Just answer me already"
He hummed, "So you want me to believe that you won't run away if I remove the collar?"
She nodded, earning a snort and an eye-roll. "Oh, please."
She dropped the fork. Its sharp clatter against the plate announced the eruption of her frustration. "Well, I can't stay locked up forever, Brandon."
Brandon grabbed both their plates and walked to the sink to wash them."You can, but you know what to do if you don't want to live like this anymore."
"I love you." She announced unceremoniously, yet couldn't stop the recoil in her body when Brandon whipped his head to face her. The regret of her words hit her immediately as she saw the raw vulnerability in Brandon's gaze.
She sighed, scratching the back of her head. "I really do. I just can't be with a murderer. It's just not… morally right."
"If that's all it takes, then I can quit this job."
Cherry shook her head. "Dean won't allow it. I can't risk my parents' and the doctor's lives."
"Brandon, please."
The sharp crack, followed by a sickening crunch, caused her eyelids to tremble and her shoulders to jerk back in horror as she witnessed Brandon's hand, now a canvas of angry red gashes, bleeding profusely before her eyes settled on the shattered remains of a cup in the sink.
Cherry wasn't the only one confused; Brandon stared at his hand as though it didn't belong to him, his breath catching in his throat before he clenched his injured hand and brought it to his forehead.
"Shit! Fuck! Fuck! It was not supposed to be like this!"
Her body chilled with sweat as the image of that man—Brandon's father — overlapped with Brandon, and the back of her head throbbed. She was sure that Brandon had served her tea, but why did the putrid stench of alcohol assault her nose? Nausea welled in her stomach, but her mouth stayed dry.
She covered her mouth, clenching her eyes shut as she curled into her body. "Ugh..."
Her groan snapped Brandon out of his confused state. "Cherry...!" He rushed to her side, kneeling as he stretched his hand to her, but stilled and retracted it. "I didn't mean to react like that, princess. I-I," his jaw clenched and relaxed in resignation, letting out a whisper, "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
Tears coated her eyes, but didn't drop as they fluttered open. She didn't turn her body; only letting her feeble eyes sink to the blood dripping from Brandon's hand to the floor.
You are the one who got hurt, idiot.
"Do I look okay? Do we look okay? Look at us, Brandon, this is a mess."
"I can fix it." He said determined, but the creases between his brows and pupils that seemed to float without anchor, refusing to meet her eyes told her something different.
"Look at me."
She caged his face between her hands; the stubble pricking her palms, a sign of his sleepless nights, causing her to worry her lips. "We can't keep living like this, and you know it. Don't make the same mistake as your father. Don't take away my freedom." Her eyes misted over with wistfulness. "I want my Lou back."
His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyelids hesitated to close or open, as if buffering between a decision. "I'll take you back to your room." Without waiting for her response, he hooked his arms under the hollow of her knees and back before carrying her off; the knife she slipped into her sleeve going unnoticed.