His Perfect Lyra

Silas's POV 

A week ago- 

The moment I left, I went upstairs. Good thing I live alone—no one would notice the wound.

In the bathroom, I cleaned myself up, fixing the cut on my head.

It hurt.

Every touch stung.

But as I looked in the mirror…

Why did it feel good?

Why did I feel excited?

The pain from her…

That's what makes her special.

A long pause.

Breathing out slowly, I muttered under my breath:

"I need to break her now… or things will get worse."

But how?

I'd thought about it for a long time.

Leaving her alone for seven days.

No food. Limited water.

Would that be enough?

Let's find out.

⸻

Day Three:

She wasn't showing desperation yet. No frustration.

Still acting tough.

Alright. I'll turn things off slowly.

First the water.

Then… maybe the electricity.

⸻

Day Six:

She could barely move now. Her body limp. Her eyes unfocused.

I kept watching through the screen.

When would she finally cry out for me?

Beg for me?

Would she really rather die than give in?

⸻

One Week Later:

It was time. If I waited any longer, she'd die for real.

That wasn't the plan.

I was disappointed.

I hadn't gotten to see what I wanted…

Until I opened the door.

And there she was—still under the blanket.

I told her to come out.

And when she did—

Her face…

Tears streaming down.

Her voice breaking.

Perfect.

She was finally at her breaking point.

Exactly what I wanted.

But now… now I couldn't leave her like that. I had to show her I cared.

Forgive her.

Hold her.

Speak gently.

Let her feel my love.

I unlocked her chain so she could shower. And while she was gone, I couldn't stop smiling as I set the table for breakfast.

One last check before moving forward.

⸻

She came out wearing a cartoon shirt and sweatpants. Silly. Comfortable.

Good.

She devoured the food like she hadn't eaten in weeks.

Her eyes were red. Dark bags under them. Already cracked. Already fragile.

She'd forgotten how to care for herself—her hair, her face, even her nails.

Too stressed. Too anxious.

Don't worry.

I'll teach her again.

Her mind… completely under my control now.

Yes.

It's time.

Stage Two.

I wonder how long it'll take her to adjust…

After she finished eating, I cleared the table. She didn't move. Just sat there, lifeless.

But is she really empty… or still holding on to something deep down?

Her hair was still messy.

Would brushing it make her happy?

I stepped behind her.

And spoke softly—

"Hey, Lyra… how do you feel about getting dolled up?"