Jason did not shout again.
That was how Loraine knew something had truly changed.
The morning after her failed escape, he moved through the house with an unnatural calm. His voice was soft. His steps were unhurried. His eyes—empty. Not stormy. Not furious.
Empty was worse.
He brought her breakfast himself and set the tray beside the bed.
"Eat," he said gently.
She stared at the wall.
Jason waited.
Minutes passed.
When she didn't move, he lifted a spoon and held it to her lips. "Don't make this difficult."
She opened her mouth mechanically.
He smiled.
The Silence Inside Her
Loraine stopped crying.
That scared him.
She didn't argue anymore. Didn't plead. Didn't explain. She spoke only when spoken to, her voice flat, distant—like someone already gone.
"Yes, Jason."
"No, Jason."
"I understand."
Her injuries healed slowly. Bruises yellowed and faded, replaced by new aches—constant, dull pain living in her bones. She barely noticed anymore.
At night, she lay still while he watched her sleep.
"You're so quiet now," he murmured once. "You're finally at peace."
She didn't answer.
Jason's New Control
The guards were dismissed from her wing.
Jason didn't need them anymore.
He followed her everywhere himself.
"You don't need supervision," he said calmly. "You just need me."
When she walked too close to the locked hallway, his hand closed around her wrist—not roughly, not gently—firm, final.
"Not there."
She nodded.
Inside, her heart pounded.
The Locked Door Moves Closer
He started taking her past it.
Not stopping.
Just walking.
Each time, the door seemed louder. Heavier. Like it wanted to be noticed.
"What's in there?" she asked once, her voice empty, almost curious.
Jason stopped walking.
For a long moment, he didn't turn around.
"Nothing for you," he said quietly. "Not yet."
Her stomach dropped.
A Different Kind of Punishment
That night, she refused intimacy again.
She didn't even say no.
She just turned away.
Jason watched her back, unmoving.
"I won't force you," he said calmly. "But don't mistake restraint for weakness."
He lay beside her, awake all night.
She felt his gaze burning into her spine.
The Smile That Isn't Love
The next day, he dressed her himself.
Chose her clothes. Brushed her hair.
"You're beautiful when you're obedient," he said softly.
She looked at her reflection.
She didn't recognize herself.
Jason kissed her forehead. "Soon, you'll understand everything. And then you won't want to leave."
Her fingers twitched.
Something inside her—small but sharp—refused to die.
Questions That Freeze Instead of Burn
What happens when fear replaces emotion completely?
Is Jason calmer because he's in control—or because he's preparing her?
Why does the locked door feel closer every day?
And if she's already disappearing…
will there be anything left to save?