His Perfect Lyra

Lyra's POV 

I stared at the door.

Hoping. Wishing.

But it never opened.

I walked up to it—

Forgot the chain was still there.

It yanked me back, stopping me cold.

Of course. Locked.

Shit…

Hunger really is making me crazy.

Water's almost gone.

Ducky's already driving me insane.

Am I really going to die here?

⸻

Day 6.

I just sit there.

Staring. Waiting.

I can't even move much anymore.

No water.

My brain's turning to static.

Maybe Silas is really dead.

Maybe that's why no water's running in the washroom.

The landlord probably shut it all off.

Electricity's next, I bet.

⸻

Day 7.

For the first time…

I actually want him to come back.

Please…

I'll be good.

I won't fight anymore.

Don't leave me here to die alone.

I lay in bed, silent prayers and desperate promises running in my head.

⸻

Day 8.

There's a sound—

The door unlocking.

Another hallucination.

I ignore it.

Pull the blanket over my head.

Then…

"How long are you going to hide under there?"

That voice.

My heart stops.

It's real.

I rip the blanket off—

Silas is standing there, holding a big white bag and clean clothes.

He gives me this soft, pitying smile.

But that's not why it happens—

Not the smile.

Not the food.

Not the clothes.

I break.

The tears just burst out of me.

Not because I missed him—

Because I'm still alive.

I can't stop crying. My voice cracks through it:

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. I promise I'll follow the rule. I'll be good… I'll be good."

I cover my face with my hands.

I don't want him to see me like this.

Don't want him to think I care.

"Please don't leave me alone again… please…"

Even as my sobs quiet down, I keep hiding my face.

I hear him set the bag down. His footsteps move closer.

Then:

"Oh, poor little thing."

His voice—still calm. But there's something too cheerful in it.

The bed creaks.

Heavy weight.

He's sitting next to me.

Then…

Arms wrap around me.

He's hugging me.

Patting my head gently.

"It's okay, Lyra. I forgive you for hitting me. Shh… you must be exhausted."

He lets me go, but one arm stays wrapped around my shoulder.

I peek through my hands.

He pulls something small from his pocket—a rag?

He gently removes my hands from my face. I flinch, heart jumping—

But all he does is wipe my tears.

Slow, careful.

Like I'm something fragile.

"You must be starving. I brought your favorite breakfast… and something comfortable for you to wear."

Once he's done wiping my face, he brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ears.

"I hope you keep your word, Lyra. Trust me… things will be easier if you just follow the rule."

And just like that…

He's got me.

Right where he wants.