Seize(47)

I’m always there, lurking in the shadows, keeping up with her progress. She seems to have become obsessed with me. The so-called doctors and nurses have told me that they’ve seen her talking to herself. She says she hears my voice, my name, everywhere she goes. She has taken this illusion to a whole new level. I am amazed at her ability to cope, but at the same time I feel gutted for knowing it’s all fake.

Just like any other victim stuck in one of our facilities, she is trapped in a room and made to believe that she’s sick, that she has a psychological issue. Her room is filled with contraptions that allow us to play with her mind. A light that shines with a spectrum of colors, making it possible to alter her sense of reality. Beds easily shifted, pulled into the wall, hidden from plain sight by a simple mechanism. Doors can be unlocked without the need for anyone to physically be there. A small remote is all that’s needed for each device to work. Her roommate was carefully selected out of all our victims. She’s a girl who refuses to speak, which is fortunate, because I don’t want anyone to tell her that I’m truly there.

The people we hired for this facility keep up the façade. They pretend to care for the patients in exchange for an extra paycheck and the reassurance that their families will be kept alive and safe. Now they have her convinced that I do not exist. They make her believe the notes that I write are actually her handwriting. I make people lie.

I do it because I have to. She has to think that I’m a figment of her fantasy. It is all a part of our job, our assignment. There are two outcomes to the books that we read—the victim dies or becomes insane. Happily-ever-after does not exist. Life isn’t a fairy tale; it is hell itself.

So I choose the latter. I need her to live. Not because one is a lesser evil. Not because of the book or because of my assignment. Screw the code. I want her to live for me. That way I could feel just a spark of pride from what I had done. I will make her forget everything they … we … did to her, so that she can live in peace.

It is the only gift that I can give her. The only thing that would perhaps lighten the heinous crimes we have committed. And maybe it would lift a small ounce of my guilt and set my conscience free.





Sebastian’s Notebook





Our nightly talks and kisses have turned into something more than just a game. I can feel myself changing with time. She makes me see the world in a different way. She gives me hope where all hope is lost.

She is beautiful, but I cannot let myself drift into this wicked love. It isn’t right. It isn’t healthy. And even though I have come to yearn her body, I must remind myself that this is all for the greater good. Giving her pleasure is for the greater good.

Complete the assignment. Make her believe this is a real facility. Fuck her into oblivion as the book describes. Free her from her memories. Stay alive.

That is all that matters.

Except, I want more and more from her. She wants more from me, too.

She says she needs me to take the pain away. I don’t understand how she can give herself so willingly to me, the man who made her nightmares come true. Each word she speaks only adds to the layer of guilt that I place upon myself. I tell myself that I can resist, for the sake of my own life, but the more time I spend with her, the more infatuated I become with her.

I am too interested in her, too willing to take her and claim her as my own. She gives in to everything I say and make her do. Obeys my every word and begs me for pleasure. The things she does to rile me up makes me want to give her everything that feeds my wicked, dirty soul.

Even if I weren’t such a bad man for playing a part in the games these men play, I still would love the domination, the power, the trust that I have with her. How she worships the fucking ground that I walk on. I live for that look on her face, that gaze of utter devotion, those pouty lips that plead to be kissed, that ass that demands to be spanked, and that pussy that purrs for attention.

I can’t deny the strong gravitation between us, the pull she has on me. She’s the perfect woman, someone who needs what I give and who will let me take control. I’ve always needed to control … always wanted it when I couldn’t have it, and now she freely offers it to me. It’s too good to refuse. I feel the need to protect her, and it’s becoming hard to ignore.

She says that I’m her hero. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

A hero doesn’t save the heroine from himself. The monster isn’t outside the castle, but in her bed, fucking her until the night is over.

Saving her from them was a very wicked, random fluke in the grand design. Now, I am bound to her. I try my best to fix what I have broken. To recover what is left of both our souls.