Isn't it lovely, all alone?

Heart made of glass, my mind of stone

Tear me to pieces, skin to bone

Hello, welcome home.

-'Lovely' by Billie Eilish and Khalid.

Clouds condense over the moon's silver hue as I lift my trembling hands and stare at the blood coating them, a dark shade of red crawling beneath my fingers.

The pungent smell of smoke burns my throat as I keep staring at the red hue that coats my skin until my vision blurs.

"I'm not a murderer...not a murderer...a murderer" I chant lost in a trance.

The sound of a twig snapping breaks me out of my stupor and as I lift my head I see him.

"Good job" he praises as he sits on his haunches to look me in the eye. His face is always covered expect for his eyes, the darkest shade of black staring deep into my soul, always calculating.

"Pl...ease" I stutter. I sound pathetic even to my own ears "I can't do th..is" I whimper.

He clicks his tongue, a sound of mild disappointment. Then, his gloved fingers brush my tear-streaked face, a mockery of tenderness. "Shh. Everything will be all right." The words are hollow.

My body aches, every nerve screaming in protest, but my mind-my mind has gone numb. I lower my gaze, staring at his pristine shoes, untouched by blood, by dirt, by anything that stains me. How? How does he remain so... clean? So unaffected?

His hand settles on my head in what should be comfort. But I know him too well. It's not kindness—it's control.

I don't react. I don't flinch. And maybe that frustrates him.

Because one moment, I am on my knees, drowning in my own grief, and the next-I am weightless. The world tilts as he throws me over his shoulder with disturbing ease, my body dangling like an afterthought.

I don't struggle. I don't have the strength.

Blood rushes to my head, the dizziness swallowing me whole. Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision, and just before it claims me, I hear him murmur-soft, possessive, final.

"You're my treasure, little one...and I'm not letting you go."