In the Arms of Danger

Fight

~~Your Pov~~

You wonder how long you've been here. Without a calendar or phone it's hard for you to really keep track of the days here. You lean against the window sill as you breathe in fresh air from the open window. Your eyes scan the expanse of the forest that eludes you. You just want to be free. Leaving Bob would be smart but it's the last thing on your mind. You just want to be out and exploring the world with Bob. You want to see how much deeper this man can get under your skin. You still crave him like a drug. You move from the open window and then to the bed. The bed itself even feels like a prison to you.

Even with Bob staying with you it still feels lonely at times. He can get up and leave whenever he wants while you're stuck here trying to find ways to entertain yourself. He's been careful with what he's given you, trying to avoid giving you anything that could be a weapon. You never tried. You're been given plenty of things you could easily turn deadly but you never did. Other than getting the cuff around your ankle off there wasn't any consideration of escaping. You just don't want to feel like you're trapped anymore, that's all.

You sigh as you slump back against the headboard of the bed, glancing down at your chained ankle before rolling over onto your face with a groan. It's your fault it's back on. You told Bob you will leave the shackle on when he's not here. That way the two of you could build a better trust out of the situation. You glance over at your stacks of books on your side of the bed, your eyes traveling down the spines of ones you're already read. You're getting restless again and you're starting to get snappy with Bob. You're tired of books and television. Maybe you could both go camping again? You've resigned yourself to your fate but you're not really that upset about it. If you could live with anyone it would be Bob every time.

"Darlin'! I'm home!" Bob calls from the front door. You sit up and give him a soft smile when he enters the room. "Okay, don't be upset. I've got a meetin' with some friends tonight so I got ya snacks and such for a movie marathon."

"What? But our show is on tonight," You protest with wide eyes, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. "You can't go."

"I need to," He sighs gently. "They'll kill me if I don't show up."

"But you can't die. You told me yourself!" You protest. "If you leave I'm going to hate you forever. Just leave them. You don't have to go anymore."

"That's not how it works," Bob snaps back.

You two have spoken on deeper levels and he admitted his relationship with the cult. After leaving so many nights you began to wonder where exactly it is he was going. He told you how they recruited him after running into him and he didn't have anything better to do so he figured why the hell not. It's good cover for his....hobby. He explained the way the amulet keeps him alive and that he had contract with a demon for his soul. He'll forever have an attachment to the cult whether he likes it or not. You know this but you still hate that he has to leave. It usually meant a sleepless night until her got him.

"Y/N," Bob sighs, coming over and kneeling on the floor on your side of the bed.

He reaches for your hand, frowning when you jerk it away from him. You're seriously pouting? He wants to stay but he truly can't miss that damn meeting. They could take everything from him if he doesn't show up. You both just sit in silence for a little bit, Bob trying to come up with a way to help while you only further stew on your current situation.

"Just go be with your stupid friends," You finally huff, your arms crossed over your chest as you glare away from him. "I see where I stand on your list of important people."

"Okay, that's enough. I know you're upset but you need to work with me here. That could take everything away from me, even you, if I don't show up. This is for both our lives," Bob growls at you. "Enjoy some movies and junk food while I'm gone and change that damn attitude. I have no issue sleeping on the couch again. I have earmuffs."

"I'm sick of movies! I'm sick of television and books. Why can't you trust me enough to go outside on my own? I'm going insane Bob. I feel trapped," You finally snap at him, Bob narrowing his eyes in a glare at you. "I'm sick of being here!"

"You can damn well go outside when I decide you're ready," Bob growls back. "And clearly you're not ready if all you want to do is leave. I thought we had an agreement but it seems I need to change my standards that I'm holding you to. I need to go. Don't bother waiting up for me tonight, I'm going to be late."

Your eyes widen when Bob jerks to his feet and storms from the room, tears falling free and fast down your cheeks. You aren't actually mad at him. Far from it! Youre more annoyed at him than anything else. You're also jealous.  Jealous he gets to go out and be with people while you're trapped in a room all day trying to entertain yourself. You want to at least get to be outside in nature. You don't even care about civilization anymore. You're truly free in nature and you're craving that feeling again. Bob doesn't seem to get the hint you're getting stir crazy again. You hear the door slam and the truck start up, Bob disappearing for the night. You just sit and cry for a while, not really able to do much more.

You've lost your freedom and Bob seems to forget that completely. You're not going out with friends every night, or hanging out with Oscar over dinner or bingo, and you're not doing any public dates with Bob. You understand why you can't have any of that back but Bob doesn't. You could cut off your left foot to escape but you're way too selfish to do that. It's bad enough missing one leg. You don't need to be missing another.

Plus, Bob would more than likely find you regardless of what you do. He's an amazing tracker and when Bob wants something you've come to learn he usually gets it. As you stare at the nub where the rest of your leg used to be the tears just keep flowing down your cheek. You're crying until you can't anymore, sobbing hard as you feel like everything is just tumbling down around you. You're gasping for breath when the tears finally stop, slumping back against your pillows when you manage to get it back under control. You need to do something. Something to take your mind off things before you do something you'll regret.

You get up from the bed and search through the drawers in the room for something. When you can't find it in the dresser or the compost you check side table drawer, looking for a pen and pad to just write all your feelings down, relieved when you actually find them. Your therapist talked to you about writing everything down. Everything that has ever happened to you. Sometimes to get over trauma you have to revisit your past and experience it one more time to move past it. You're not really sure how much time passes but you fill the entire notebook with your experiences during your life and your service. You just lay all of it bare on paper. You put the pen back and then hide the notebook where you hope Bob won't find it. If you had more freedom you'd get even more paper and just keep writing until blisters form on your fingers.

You return to the bed once your notebook is hidden from sight, finding you feel at least a little bit better than before. You just need to tell your story. You need to lay it all bare for someone. You want that person to be Bob, so desperately do you want it to be Bob, but until he understands your struggle with being trapped you don't think he'll be up to hearing any stories any time soon. Now what do you do with yourself? The writing was a nice break but you're still bored and desperate for entertainment.

You're not really in the mood for anything right now other than going outside. Sleeping sounded like your best bet if you're honest with yourself. Sometimes it makes the time go by at least a little quicker. Sleep eludes you so you try the tv and books to entertain yourself as much as you can. You are able to get sucked into a book much to your relief. You're surprised when Bob suddenly comes staggering into the room, a frown coming to your lips.

"Bob?" You call, getting a glimpse of his hazy eyes as realization dawns on you. They fucking drugged him?!