The room was quiet in a way that pressed against Loraine's ears. Jason sat beside her on the edge of the bed, watching her too closely, as though memorizing every breath she took. His hand brushed her arm, slow and tentative, but the touch made her body stiffen.
"Jason…" she whispered, pulling away slightly. "I'm… I'm not up for it tonight."
The words hung between them.
He froze.
For a moment, there was only silence—thick, heavy, dangerous. Then he laughed softly, though there was nothing warm in it.
"Not up for it?" he repeated, his voice low. "After everything I've done for you?"
She swallowed. "I'm tired. My head hurts. I just… need space."
Space.
That word snapped something inside him.
His face hardened, jaw tightening as he stood abruptly. "So you don't want me?" he asked sharply.
"That's not what I said—"
"You're rejecting me," he interrupted, turning to face her fully now. "You don't want me touching you anymore. Is that it?"
Fear crept into her chest. "Jason, please. I just need tonight."
His eyes darkened, anger flickering like a storm behind them. "After I humiliated myself begging you? After you embarrassed me at the party? After I apologized?" His voice rose with each word. "You think you can just deny me?"
She shook her head, tears forming. "I'm not denying you. I'm just asking for time."
But Jason was already gone.
Punishment
Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist—not violently, but firmly—and dragged her down the hallway. Her heart pounded as he opened a small room she had never been inside before. It was bare. Cold. Empty.
"Jason—stop—please—"
He pushed her inside and slammed the door shut.
The lock clicked.
Her breath caught. "Jason!" she cried, pounding on the door. "Please! This isn't funny!"
On the other side, his voice was calm. Too calm.
"You need to remember something, Loraine," he said. "You don't get to push me away. Not after promising me."
"I'm scared," she sobbed. "Please let me out."
Silence.
Hours passed.
No food came. No water. The night grew colder, and her body curled in on itself as exhaustion set in. Her throat burned from crying, her stomach aching with hunger and fear. Every sound made her flinch—every imagined footstep gave her false hope.
She whispered into the darkness, "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you…"
Dawn
When the door finally opened, pale morning light spilled in.
Jason stood there.
His eyes were rimmed red, hair disheveled, his expression torn between rage and guilt. He looked like a man who hadn't slept at all.
He dropped to his knees in front of her.
"I didn't want to do this," he said hoarsely. "You force me when you pull away. You don't know what it does to me when you don't want me."
She stared at him, weak and shaking.
"You locked me up," she whispered. "You let me starve."
His face crumpled. "I needed you to understand," he said desperately. "I needed you to feel what it's like when you leave me."
He reached out, then hesitated, as if afraid she'd flinch.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I swear I am. I just… I can't lose you. I won't."
He lifted her carefully, carrying her back to the bedroom like something fragile. Food was brought. Water. He sat beside her, watching every bite she took, relief flooding his face as if her survival depended entirely on him.
"You're mine," he whispered, brushing her hair back gently. "And I'll do better. I promise."
But as she lay there, weak and quiet, a new feeling settled into her chest—heavier than fear.
Doubt.
Questions That Wouldn't Leave
Why does love feel like punishment?
Why does saying "no" make him so dangerous?
Is his apology real… or just another cage?
And if this is only the beginning—
how much darker will his love become?