5. You belong to me

Angioletto's Pov

“That means you wouldn’t come back to me for days?”

She freezes.

It’s like understanding finally dawns on her when my question escapes my lips. I see how her face changes, how her smile has become somewhat forced.

Maybe she realizes that she has shared too much information.

“I’ll be back like I never left, Gio.”

I don’t utter a word. I stare at her silently, wondering what decision would be best. She’s my hostage but I’ve put ideas in her head. I’ve given her too much freedom.

“Angiole–”

“You’re not going to school.”

That does it. Her bright, bubbly, and ambitious shine ceases. Her eyes, filled with dreams, suddenly dims so much that they look dead. 

She always appeared doll-like but she has suddenly become a completely different person in seconds. Like a plastic doll, distant, reserved.

“W-h-at?” She fumbles with her words, as though fearful. As if doing so would lead to punishment.

“I thought about it. . .”

“You clearly didn’t give it a good thought.”

“I can’t let you go out there. I don’t want you out of my sight. I can arrange a private tutor but you can’t leave me, you’re not ready. Not yet.”

“I’m not planning on leaving you!” She snaps. “It’s just a few hours out of twenty four hours and I’ll be back here with you. You wanted me to live like there were no rules. . .”

“I changed my mind.” It’s a low whisper of my voice. “Even your father thought the same thing. He knew you’d spiral out of control if let into the world!”

“You’re not my father!”

“But he is and he knows you better than anyone!”

There’s a whimper in her voice that almost goes unnoticed, but I pay too much attention to the girl not to notice. “If you continue doing this, Gio, then I’ll have no choice but to run very far away from you.”

My head is immediately pulled back in laughter. Throat bobbing, legs shaking, fingers digging into my scalp. It’s my way of expressing discomfort. My way of expressing how much irritation her threat has caused me. 

“You should know by now, my beautiful, beautiful girl, there’s no escaping from a man like me.”

“Then I’ll die!” She blurts, seemingly infuriated by the matter.

I hiss. “What did you just say to me?”

“I’ll kill myself!”

 I am driven by a pathological state of rage where distortion and deception have slammed my soul with such a low blow that I no longer feel any emotion at all. Who does she think she is threatening me? Who the fuck gave her the right to mess with my head as much as she’s doing? 

“Oceane!” I scream, my voice a roar, my demeanor, voice, and eyes simultaneously changing. I’m so out of it. I’m so torn.

“What?!” She bellows.

“Think carefully about your next words.” My voice is chilling to the soul but not in a good way. She sees it, She sees me, all of me. My vulnerability is glaring and she sees all of it.

The idea that she might leave me is wrecking me apart piece by piece, and I don’t care to hide it. 

Yes, I’m obsessed but not with her as a person, but with the idea of owning her. And I don’t care to shield my obsession from her.

“I hate being controlled. I loathe the limitations that come with being under the control of another person. I want to be able to live freely, to make my own choices as simple as they might be, but with you, I can barely breathe. You’re suffocating.”

Her sorrowful eyes are boring into my raging ones, like a plea, a sign of exhaustion. Something claws at my heart, almost softening my demeanor. Something foreign.

I don’t let it.

I fight against the feeling with my last string of strength.

I wait for a few minutes, silently recollecting my voice before speaking. “You think I’ll let you die?”

She scoffs. “It’s my life, Angioletto.”

“And you belong to me. Mine.” I growl. “I get to decide when you live, how you live, when you die, and how you die! Do you understand?”

“Then why did you fill my head with the idea of freedom?! Why did you make me believe that freedom of choice exists if you won’t even let me choose how I live my life?!”

“You belong to me! I’ll make the necessary choices for you!”

“I belong to no one! I hate it here! I hate you!”

My brows furrow. “What? What have I done that seems to be so bad, baby?”

“It’s just. . .” Her voice shakes, her breath shaky, unstable and shallow. “So far, my life here has been hell, equivalent to death. If I’m unable to get away from a man like you, then I would rather be dead. I’ll kill myself.”

Her words are vile, heart shattering. I stand there, expression stoic, lost in the wickedness of her words. I’m lost and it’s not until she takes her second step that I’m snapped back to reality.

I grasp her wrist, squeezing hard and tight until she’s wincing in pain. “You want to threaten me?” I grit, pulling her along with me, ignoring her plea for mercy.

I throw her into a dark room and she falls on her knees, begging, pleading that I don’t lock her away in the dark.

She’s afraid of the dark.

Her mistake, letting me into her weakness and I’ll certainly use it to my advantage.

“You’ll stay in here until you learn not to speak to me the way you did.” I spit, my voice a monotone.

And I shut the door, locking her in.

Guilt tugs at my heart but I push it to the side, reminding myself that she has to be taught a lesson or she’d slip from my fingers.

And I’ll surely teach her lessons without fail until she completely surrenders herself to me.