I have always wanted a secluded weekend away with Xander. He wants to hide me away and hold me captive at his mercy, and I want nothing more this Christmas than to be his. We haven't really celebrated the discovery of our little bean growing inside me, and I plan to let him ravish and captivate me, and then lie like a pet at his perfect feet all week. 

He’s been on edge the past couple days, and I wonder if it’s me or the divorce, or what I truly hope it is—school drawing to an end. I don’t want him to be angry with me in any way, and I don't believe he would have any reason to be, since I have behaved better than he could ever want me to. And I sure as hell do not want Jacqueline to arouse any kind of emotion from him, because it is my time, energy, and emotions I want him drowning in. I will not share, and I will not let her come take away my keeper again. 

I love him so much.

My eyes flutter open, my REM cycle breaking, and that dizzy state I come in and out of leaves me. 

“Good morning, pretty little thing,” Xander greets me in my post-slumber haze. The handsome perfection before me is a sight that warms me to my very core, and I get that shiver down my spine and goose bumps on my arms that arouse me. The reaction I get now is the same one I got all those years ago. Blue eyes sizzle, creating a slow burn inside me, and I take a deep breath. My eyes flitter like an excited fairy under his calloused hands touching my cheek as if I’m made of glass. 

“Don’t you mean goodnight?” I gesture with a side-eye to the window next to me in First Class. We took a later flight, because I was feeling the waves of severe morning sickness. 

“Ever wise.” He pauses, bringing his lips to my forehead resting on his shoulder, and his strong hand grips my upper thigh. “And ever fucking sassy,” he growls, and I giggle when he squeezes the pressure point on my knee. A pool of arousal collects in my core, and if we weren't sharing First Class with a bunch of strangers, I would go ahead and start our weekend of ravishing. 

“It keeps you young, and we all know you need it.” I give it right back, knowing that comment will land me an open palm to my bare bottom. 

Xander doesn’t make a sound, and I peer up and see him looking forward, his tight jaw flexing and his hand on my thigh tightening. “Master?” 

I gulp when he slowly peers down at me with a steady movement. Maybe it isn't as humorous now as it was when we used to use it as foreplay. 

“One lash for being so fucking sassy. My age only controls you more. My age only fucks you better than any age after me.”  

“Xander, I was… j… just teasing,” I stutter, suddenly afraid. 

Burning a hole into me with his eyes, he speaks. “I’m only getting older, and I won’t let you trade me in for something younger.” 

Oh, the rarely seen insecure side of Xander. He pets my wings when I fall short of confident, and on the rare—so very rare—occasions that he lets me return the favor, I thrive on it. 

“Xander, don’t ever say that. I don't want anything different. Ever.” The last word comes out more dark and belligerent than I planned. “Please, never think of me wanting another man. There is no one I’d allow to own me like a perfect little bird other than you,” I whisper, nuzzling my face into his neck while my hand cups his chiseled jaw. 

“Don’t be so sure.” 

Part of my tough exterior crumbles and I’m thrown into the abyss. “Keeper, please don't say that. I don't want anyone else!” I holler, gaining the stares from others, but I don't care.

“Bird!” Xander barks, gripping my chin between his fingers. He holds me in place with no room to move and I feel tears building—from hormones and the pain in my heart. 

“No. I don't want you feeling this way, my love. You are my everything, and when you speak like that, it seems like you are looking for an out. Please tell me you aren't going back to her and this trip is just a final goodbye.” A tear slips and I reveal my ugly truths. 

“I’m never leaving you. Now hush and kiss what you hurt.” Releasing my chin finally, he takes my hand from where I have it placed against his abs and brings it to his heart. I nod and drop my head to his chest then pepper it with sorrowful kisses. 

We have an audience, and I’m sure they all think the worst. Either I’m his daughter, or I am a woman he’s paid to take away to cheat on his wife with in a lap of luxury. But it doesn't hinder me. I am his, as he is mine. 

We spend the rest of the flight touching gently and sometimes eagerly. We speak few words, but powerful ones with passion, fire, and promise. 

He has a driver, and our luggage is already collected by the time we step out into the crisp night air, snow hiding inside heavy clouds, just waiting to fall. Those clouds are promising me a weekend of no escape from my love and our dirty, dangerous bubble.  

How captivating it has yet to be. 

We pull up to the cabin around 9:00 p.m. and the porch light is welcoming, already setting the stage for a romantic, cozy getaway. The two-story, dark wood cabin is haloed by tall trees with the heavy scent of pine. I take a deep breath as he pulls me into his side and the driver unloads the bags. 

“Welcome to your cage, pretty bird.” He caresses my lower back as my eyes jump all around the cabin, looking at all the windows and details. And it becomes even more breathtaking when we step inside. Right in the entryway, there is a brightly lit crystal chandelier with three tiers. It centers the stairs, which you can take up to the left or the right, and down the center is a path that leads to the kitchen and living area. My breath catches, because I truly feel spoiled. Just like he did with our home, he even takes me on vacations that are beyond my wildest dreams. 

“Professor Xander Stine, you have truly outdone yourself, and I can’t even begin to think of how to repay you for this gift you have bestowed upon me. Really, you have done so much to bring us back together, and I don’t have enough in my possession to give you what you truly deserve.” I blink up at him, my cheeks flushed.

“Your life in my fucking hands,” he responds quickly, almost brash, as if he is hanging on to something that could easily slip away. It has my skin raising with little bumps from the sudden rushing cold air of uncertainty. What has gotten into my love? I haven't let on that I know he is… off, as I wait in my cage for him to come to me and lay his burdens at my feet. But he still hasn't, and it’s becoming decisively harder to keep my mouth and heart separate. I want to help him, no matter the situation. I have him, and he has me; whatever falls outside of that realm will not part our entwined souls.  

“You already have that. I gave it to you the day your eyes met mine and your lips touched my skin. And yet I still don’t think it’s enough.” I moan against him when he pulls me in tighter and leans his head to bite the side of my neck. My keeper is lost and seeking refuge, and I am here to give him shelter from whatever is plaguing him. Tonight, he will not touch gently. No, tonight, he will stroke me with fire and douse me in gasoline to feel his burning touch more harshly, because he needs me to forgive him for something I feel like I already know but somehow don’t. 

We are linked on a whole other level, so much so that I know when something is bound to fall apart. And he may not realize it, but I am already prepared to rebuild wherever it falls around us, even without knowing a thing of what haunts him.  

“Take me to bed first. We can explore tomorrow,” I whisper into the cabin, my breath heavy and needy. I run my hands up and under his jacket and shirt, finding the warm skin and his trail of hair tempting me past the point of no return. The deep V at his hips meets my spread fingertips and I whimper, moving them slowly up his abs. Still so tight and warm and exotic, even with age. “Xander, please,” I beg, while errant tears of the almost unbearable need for my love, fall. It’s as if we could never get close enough, like I may never be able to imprint him into my heart deep enough—to where I won’t feel like I’m missing a part of me. I am no longer my own person. I no longer belong to myself. I was born and raised with a heart pumping blood through me that all belongs to him. 

I am of his rib, of his soul, of his sum. I love Xander Stine, and I would lose all pride, dignity, or human rights to submit to him completely. I’m sick and twisted, and I truly lose no sleep over knowing how psychotic I can be for him. 

“Tomorrow won’t come for an eternity when I get you alone. You're going to regret those words, my warped little bird.” He grasps my jaw with his fingers and my eyes flare. His blue eyes turn a smoky gray, as if the storm in him is overtaking, and I shiver, fucking shake to my core, when he does this to me. “Crawl,” he demands, and for a moment, I stand before him, unsure. 

“But the bedrooms are upstairs.” I stare at the twenty steps of the staircase to the left, the one closest to where we stand, and he doesn't flinch or reassess his demand. 

“Yes they are. Crawl. All the way to the bed.”

I peer up at him and, after a brief pause, I finally nod in understanding. 

“Yes, Master.” Just like that, I get on my hands and knees, jutting my ass out as I do. That way, he gets a view of what is his. When my hand hits the first step and I lift up, I peer back at him over my shoulder, my wavy locks covering half my face, and I drop my eyes just the way he likes—submissively. His cock tents his faded jeans that he wears better than men half his age. 

“The longer you take to get up those stairs, the longer I will go without fucking you till your pussy screams for me to stop. Now fucking crawl, my lovely tease.” 

I giggle adolescently, like a kid on Christmas. Xander leans and slaps my ass hard, and I jolt into motion, crawling with ease and stability to make it safe for me and our little one inside me. That’s Xander’s and my hearts beating as one inside me, and I must protect it at all costs. 

Finally getting to the top of the stairs, I feel and hear him behind me, his feet heavy and his breathing deep and dominating. 

“Which way, my keeper?”

“To the left, little bird. First door.” I follow his directions, and when I breach the door, the hardwood floor is darker than the rest of the house, a deep cherry. The bed is a large, black sleigh bed with all black silk blankets and one white, fluffy throw blanket draped on the left corner. All the walls are painted white, with the exception of the one behind the headboard of the bed; that one is black. There is a beautiful abstract artwork of silver, gray, and black streaks on a glossy canvas, and my heart pitter-patters. 

“You found something made just for you, it seems,” I whisper, now in position at the end of the bed, the backs of my thighs pressed against my calves and my hands face up on top of my legs. 

“I like all my things to be how I demand them to be.” He lifts a masculine brow, indicating I am one of those things.

My stomach flips. I love when he talks so crass, like I'm his possession. There are days I love feeling like his person, but mostly, I like to feel as if I’m his property. It fuels the darkness inside of me. 

“Oh.” It’s all I can say, because I feel him in my blood and I can’t get him out; it’s too much. I love him so much, and suddenly I’m overcome with trying to find out what is going on with him. My docile, meek, submissive side is starting to close up. I want to fix him. I want to release him of his worries. 

“Face down,” he barks, and I almost do it on instinct, but something else inside me builds and I break the rules, fall out of line, knowing it will cost me. 

“Xander.” I slowly stand, pushing up from the ground with my fingertips and tiptoes until I stand in front of him. I watch his eyes widen and his nostrils flare. I see the rage that accompanies my disobedience in his entire stature. He’s wound tight, and his stiff shoulders and balled fists at his sides scream louder than his harsh words could. 

I was ready to make love, but no matter how much I try to ignore that telltale sign flashing red warning lights, I can’t.

“Xander,” I say again, reaching out for him, but before my hand can touch his arm, he takes a steady step back and hisses. 

“On your knees, little bird. Did I tell you that you could move?” he yells, and I see the loss of control he submits to and my heart aches—truly aches. I feel whatever my keeper does. Down to my very bones, I feel it. 

“My love, please.” I bring my hand to my slightly rounded belly and caress it while I drop my eyes to the floor. Xander makes no noise or movement, and as I look up to see his reaction, his demeanor has changed. With a hand ruffling through his salt and peppered hair, he has the other on his hip and his eyes are wild, moving back and forth between mine with a sheen of tears threatening to spill over. I break my stance, needing to feel him, touch him, break him open in my hands. 

“Keeper, what is haunting you? Tell me, please.” My arms wrap around his waist and under his shirt to touch his warm skin. My bare chest is against his, my warm wall of safety almost crumbling under me as he lets a tear fall and his body trembles. 

Xander Stine never cries. Not even on the day we first said goodbye and he walked away from me. To see him so damaged and broken over something I have yet to discover devastates and alarms me. 

“I can’t do it. I am about to strip your fucking soul, baby. My sweet little baby.” He cups my face and kisses me wherever he can. My nose, my cheek, my forehead, just under my eyes. 

I start to panic, and the natural response that comes with that is my tears. I grip his biceps and whimper. “What did you do? Xander, what did you do? Please.” I pause, and he drops his forehead to mine, and the night he left me broken with clipped wings on his floor comes rushing back. 

I push back from him abruptly, causing his hands to rip from my face as I twitch. “You’re leaving again, aren't you? Just say it!” I scream, the tears now falling faster. I don't care that they make me ugly and vulnerable. I am breaking all over again, and my keeper is the wrecking ball. 

“No, Lizith, I am not leaving you. But you may fucking run from me when I tell you this.” 

“I told you I would never run. You can’t get rid of me, Xander! You can’t.” The psychotic side of me starts to rear her twisted head. The side that never existed until I fell in love with him. “What did you do then? Just please, tell me,” I beg, stepping only one foot closer, leaving a gap between us. 

“I won’t do it in here. Go downstairs. I’m going to pour myself a drink and meet you in the living room downstairs.” And faster than the speed of light, he’s gone, leaving a trail of fear in his absence. I feel terrified, unsure and so scared that I can’t trigger myself into motion. I feel glued to this damn floor. 

Finally, after a few breaths and a moment of surreal realization that something bad is happening, I move. Covering myself in the fluffy white throw blanket, I make my way downstairs. I hear him in the kitchen, making his scotch on the rocks, and I hurry my steps, wanting to get this over with. 

I walk into the living room and take a seat at the edge of the couch, doing everything within me not to start chomping on my nails like a bad habit. Finally, he appears, and I look up at him. 

It’s been just minutes, and somehow it looks as if days of worry have gone by and his heart has become more devastated than before. 

Xander makes a home in front of me, sitting on the coffee table. He doesn't look at me as he settles himself. Placing the scotch beside him and then resting his elbows on his knees, he runs his hands over his face before they end in mock prayer at his lips. Our eyes lock, and he speaks. 

“I love you, Lizith, and you need to know something. What I’ve done is going to hurt you, but never doubt that I fucking love you.” 

I lean in closer, hanging on his words. “I love you, too, Xander.” 

With one last draw of a deep breath, he begins. “We were not happenstance. You and I were a sick game, and I was the one holding the dice.” I shake my head, not sure what he means. “Let me speak. Do not interrupt.” 

I nod and bite at my lip nervously. 

“I didn't want to go with you to see your dad, not because I was worried about the fact that we used to work together. It was because he fucked Jacqueline.” I shake my head, bewildered, almost certain I didn't hear him right. “Your father was the man she left me for, right before we met.” 

My eyes close and I almost laugh. He can’t be serious. This isn't real. This is all part of some sick game, right?

“Don’t look at me as if I’m fucking with you. I’m not, Lizith. Your dad is the reason I picked you. You were a pawn in my game to get back at my wife.” 

“Jacqueline,” I say in a bone-chilling whisper, correcting him as my heart snaps in half and I start to spiral. I was a pawn? 

“With Jacqueline. I wanted to hurt her and get revenge on your father. I wanted him to know I was fucking his little girl and destroying her from the inside out.” 

And just like he promised, his words strip me bare and rip me to shreds. My love didn't pick me because he saw me and knew I was meant to be his. I was just trash on a puppet string to him. I feel an army’s worth of rage muster then boil inside me, and I try to breathe through it. But how can I? 

“Then I fell in love with you, because I realized you were always meant to be mine. I couldn't tell you then, because I was in too deep and I didn't want to hurt you. You were too young and still so fragile.” 

“And now I’m just washed up and used to taking beatings from you? Used to having a broken heart at your hands?” I stand and he jolts back, surprised by my reaction. But I can’t help it. This is betrayal in the highest form. This is treachery wrapped inside deceit, and I feel as if I just lost a part of myself. 

“Lizith, listen to me.” He stands and stalks toward my retreating back. He reaches me and grabs my arm, but I rip it from him, spinning on him fast. 

“No! I don't want to hear more! You used me! Took everything from me!” I grab the glass vase on the table next to me in the foyer and smash it to the ground, screaming as I do. It’s violent and heartbreaking, and if we were back home, our neighbors would have heard it. 

How could he do this to me? How?

“Little bird, please.” 

“No! You can never call me that again! I hate you, Xander Stine! I despise you!” I turn to leave the cabin, uncaring that I have no shoes or my belongings. I am out of my mind and need to get away. The pain that flashes in his eyes is nothing compared to the pain I’m feeling. Nothing. 

But the door doesn't open. No matter how hard I pull, and I try it over and over again. 

“It’s an automatic lock. It can only be opened with the code.” 

I stop, my spine tingling as my heavy breath becomes the only thing I hear. 

“What is the code, Xander?” I turn slowly, my back hitting the door and my chest caving. I already know the answer. It’s all coming together. 

“I’m not giving you the code. And before you break any windows, you won’t be able to. They are all double-paned—weatherproof—and cannot be broken.” He has his hands in his pockets as he stands stoic, proud, unfazed, and not one bit remorseful for locking me away.

“You did this so I couldn't run from you,” I whisper, my eyes widening as tears stream down my red cheeks. 

“I knew you would try, and I refuse to let you leave me, Lizith. You don't ever get to leave me.” 

Like that, I slide down the door until my ass hits the ground. I bring my knees to my chest and drop my head in defeat. Trapped and brokenhearted, all by the same man. 

“Lizith—” 

“Leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone,” I whimper, keeping my head low. 

He kneels in front of me on his haunches and pets my hair, and I nearly cringe. “Fine. But you can’t leave, little bird. I will tell you everything when you are ready, but you are mine to keep here until you forgive me.” I sob with his words, and he stands. I watch his feet as he moves to where my bag and purse are. I lift my eyes slightly to watch him when I see him grab my phone. 

“Dinner will be ready soon, and I will be keeping your phone, so you won’t be able to call for someone to come get you.” 

I sob harder. Never did I think he would do this to me. Ever. Now, I really am a broken bird inside a cage. I am not connected to my love anymore, and that alone feels like death. I’ve lost my heart. 

There never came a point in my time loving Lizith that I thought I would ever hurt her like I did tonight. I had planned to keep that secret buried as long as I lived this life with her, but Jacqueline didn’t give me a fucking choice. I had to tell her, and I had to do it this way. There’s something dark inside both of us, and if we don’t handle this without a way to escape, we will never make it out together. I have to lock my love up until she is ready to fight for us, ready to forgive me and everything I have done. 

I take a sip of my scotch, stirring the gravy for the mashed potatoes and grilled chicken I’ve prepared for us. I have been in here for a half hour and have not heard her move from her place at the front door. I move the chicken onto the glass dish and begin to prepare our plates. When I set the table, I go to collect her off the ground. As I step into the foyer, I see she lies at the door, glass inches from her, circling her in all directions. Broken things surrounding my broken love. 

I don’t say anything as I go to tower over her. She doesn't look up, but her face has gone stony, emotionless, devoid of anything. Her cheeks are stained red and her eyes are a darker color. I bend and pick her up in my arms to cradle her. She doesn't budge, just curls into a ball and digs her face into my chest. 

I set her down on the bar stool at the marble counter then sit beside her and begin to eat, waiting for her to join me. She stares at her food for a moment, like she’s going to refuse, but her stomach provokes her. It growls at the scent of the tender meat, and she knows she needs to eat for our little one. Slowly, she begins to take small bites, never looking at me. I, however, watch her like a hawk as I eat everything on my plate. She’s so damn sad, and I hate that it’s all at my hands. 

She leaves maybe a bite or two of her portions, and I decide that’s enough. Without another word, I pick her up once again and carry her up the stairs. She lets me bring her into the bathroom, and I set her on the counter so I can start her bath. I get it going, and when I turn to undress her, she is already standing there naked. 

“Leave,” Lizith tells me, but I ignore her. I begin to undress, and as I drop one item of clothing, she does something that knocks me for a loop. Grabbing my shirt, she places it over her body and covers her skin. 

“Undress, Lizith,” I warn her, but she shakes her head as she leaves the room. I drop my head and growl, growing frustrated, because I don’t know what the hell to do. We are like ghosts of ourselves, strangers even, and it’s not something I know how to handle. I’ve never been in love with someone the way I am with her, and I have never had to fight for it. 

“Lizith!” I yell, still in my jeans as I leave the bathroom to follow her. I catch up to her once she makes it into the other bedroom, and I pull her to me. “What are you doing?” I spin her around to look at me. 

“I’m getting away from you. It’s my turn.” 

I scoff, shaking my head. “Your turn for what?” 

She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at me with no emotion. “My turn to treat you like you are nothing but a piece of garbage for me to dispose of.” 

I instantly twitch, and just like she did earlier, it’s my turn to snap. “I never treated you like garbage, Lizith. I treated you like fucking gold!” I turn and punch the door as I exit. I need a minute; we need a fucking minute, because I’m feeling lethal and not opposed to making her submit to me, willing to use dangerous measures. 

As I walk down the hall, I hear her scream. It echoes in the house, and you would think my hands were wrapped around her fucking neck and draining her life with the kind of noise she makes. I ignore it though, going into our room and slamming the door. 

There are too many emotions coursing through me, and I don't know how to settle myself. Do I go to her and force her into forgiveness, or do I give her the damn silent treatment and the absence of me until she comes crawling for my attention? 

I don’t know, and I’m starting to think I should just tell her it was all a lie and then threaten Jac to stay away. 

I shower in scalding water, taking on the pain in hopes of relieving the anger in me, but nothing happens. And for hours, I lie in bed listening to the sound of my broken bird’s sobs. But I stay planted in bed, knowing I can’t tell her everything until she comes to me. I can’t fuck this up more. 

Betrayal often comes disguised in the form of love. Loved ones hurt you most, because they have the biggest parts of you and know the power they possess over you. And power is the true root of all evil. Not only do I feel like Xander betrayed me, but also my father. How could he not tell me the moment he found out? How could he have moved on with a woman like Jacqueline, just a few years after my mother’s death?

My mother was a beautiful, kind, humble woman, and Jacqueline is none of those things. But no matter how much I try to latch onto that for my own sanity tonight, I can’t help but come back to the way Xander played a part in this. The day we first met, I was hooked and knocked over with the idea it was all fate. I felt my soul intertwine with his. The whole time I looked at him with adoration and love, he looked at me like a challenge, a pawn to hurt those who wronged him. 

I feel used. I feel ashamed and embarrassed, because I have spent the past several years fawning at his feet and doing everything I can to prove my love for him, even when he was nowhere in sight. All to keep him. What was it all for? 

I lie atop the blankets, my body overheated from my rage. I stare out the window, watching the thick snowflakes fall slowly, and I know right away that come morning, we will most likely be snowed in. His plan all along. Xander wanted to trap me so I couldn't run, and an unfamiliar feeling rises within me. This is the first time I am not turned on by his need to claim me and keep me as his. Usually, his possessive actions would fuel my love for him, but I have nowhere to run at a time I want to hide the most. 

I didn't give him more than a minute or two to explain anything, because once he laid out the basics, I was shaken to my core. I don’t know if there’s anything else he could say that would possibly fix this. Xander Stine may have spearheaded his own demise, and I’m collateral damage. 

I finally let my clustered mind take me under, and I close my heavy eyes. 

Just mere hours after my eyes shut, I am awoken to the strange feeling of being watched. And sure enough, when my eyes flutter open, Xander is sitting adjacent to my bed, in the corner of the room on the lounge chair. 

His eyes are dark, and it looks as if he hasn't slept all night. He changed into black jeans and a light button up. The top three buttons are undone, and a glimpse of his tan chest with a sprinkling of hair is showing as he holds a tumbler of dark liquid in his hand. 

“Good morning.” He is the first to speak, and as he does, I peer out the window, seeing there is no sun in the sky, just heavy snow clouds. Checking the clock, I see it’s 7:00 a.m.

“You’re drinking this early?” I don't know why I ask, or even care for that matter. 

“The love of my life said such foul things to me last night. I’ve found it necessary to drink in order to drown out the sound of it on replay.” My heart cracks just a little bit deeper. No matter how hurt I am by all that I discovered last night, I do not hate Xander. I could never hate him, and I shouldn't have used those words against him. 

“You didn't deserve that,” I admit, sitting up in bed. 

“You don’t know what that did to me, Lizith.” 

“And you don’t know what you have done to me… for years. That was a brief moment of weakness leaving me. You have had years of lies between us. Do not try to play the victim,” I scold, standing and moving to the en-suite bathroom. I need a shower. The air is cold now that my body heat has resumed its normal temperature. 

“Lizith, stop being so damn hostile with me. We have to fix this, and you need to let me explain everything. This isn't fair.” He stands behind me now, his large frame crowding me as I start the bath and add the honeysuckle bath salts. 

“You know, before you, I was normal. I had a beautiful childhood. I did normal things. Then I met you, and I changed for you. I started loving the normal less and less. My young adulthood became anything but simple. I spent years obsessing and losing sleep over you. I lost all my sanity to be with you. Because I believed from the moment that you touched me that I was the love you always wanted.” I bring my closed fist down on his chest. “You made me a hopeless lover, and then you stripped me of any hope I had left. I can’t look at you, Xander, and it absolutely kills me.” I back away again, so exhausted from crying.

I sink down to the floor at his feet and begin to nuzzle into him. “I broke over and over again until I was molded into what you wanted, because I had faith in you. And you lied. Since the moment I met you, you’ve lied.” I grow weak and tired, and I believe I’m falling into some kind of depression. I’m alone, and right now, he’s the only one I can cry to, and he so happens to be the very reason for my heartbreak.  

“I did, but I had no fucking idea that the person I was deceiving was meant to be my fucking soul mate, little bird. You are my lifeline, and had I not picked you as revenge—and I know that is twisted, but had I not—you and I wouldn't have found each other.”

He pets my head, and I can see some sort of logic behind that, but that doesn't excuse everything else. 

“Then why not tell me sooner? You could have told me that everything in our relationship was a lie far sooner than now.” 

“Would it have made a difference?”  

“Yes! It would have, Xander! I wouldn't have been so in love with you that I couldn't see past the deceit. Time builds more love and intimacy. It builds our foundation, and that was built on lies! You could have told me before you brainwashed me into this weak psycho!” I scream, sliding away from him and clinging to the claw-footed bathtub. 

“I didn't brainwash you. I found you and set you free. You were always made to be this way for me. You think I’ve ever loved a woman the way I love you? Do you?” he leans over and screams in my face, and I take it, shuddering. “Do you think I ever loved someone enough that I would lock them away to force them to stay with me?” He crouches more, getting closer and closer. “Do you think I would ever let you fucking get inside my head and soul if I didn't love you? You fucked me up just as badly, little bird, and you can be mad at me right now, but I do not regret the fucking lie, because it made you mine. And I will steal you with lies and deceit, if that is how I get to keep you. Just like you stole me back! We are both sick and twisted, but don't ever tell me that I made you that way, when we both made each other absolutely fucking savage.” 

Xander leaves again, and like the past three times we’ve spoken, I scream. I’m spiraling down the deep depths of hell and I can’t control the downfall. I’m going insane. Cabin fever has sunk in, and it’s only day one.