His Perfect Lyra

Lyra's POV 

Oh my god. I can't believe myself.

I actually did that… all for crepes.

I climbed up. I tugged him. Just because I wanted crepes.

I hit my head against the wall, whispering,

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid me."

At least… at least I can let this out in the washroom.

That's the only place he hasn't crossed the line yet.

No cameras. No watching.

Thank god. For now.

Bathroom's the best place to dump emotions.

Cry. Scream.

Pretend I'm winning the argument for once.

I cover my mouth, trying not to laugh.

Fifteen fake plans. Fifteen ways to beat Silas…

None of them real.

He said it so casually:

"I can't give you crepes right now, but you'll get them tomorrow morning. Ah… I won't be here tomorrow or the next two days."

Then he lowered his brows, picked up my hand,

And kissed it.

"I will come back. Please wait for me, my sweet Lyra."

And just like that—he's in my head again.

Twisting everything around like I'm…

Like I'm his girlfriend or something.

No. I don't want that.

I don't want to be his woman.

Not when I'm just… a gift?

That thought burned through me all night.

Insulting myself. Over and over.

Until I finally knocked out…

And when I woke up—

I saw it.

Three white boxes.

Lined up perfectly on the table.

Each one wrapped with a different ribbon.

Yellow. Red. Purple.

Silas.

It had to be him.

He said crepes… but this is what he meant.

Each box had a timer.

Counting down.

Yellow: three minutes left.

Red: five hours.

Purple: way, way later… maybe around dinner?

Breakfast, lunch, dinner.

Of course.

A way to control me by my stomach.

By time.

Smart.

I stared at the boxes on the table.

No sound. No footsteps.

Was he always this quiet? Sneaking in like some ghost, dropping stuff off without a sound. Super creeper.

Like… just silently breaking into my space.

And I wouldn't even know.

When the timer hit zero, I opened the yellow box.

And there it was:

Two crepes on a plate.

A small glass box holding a fork and knife.

A note. Sealed with a fake flower.

I set it all on the table. Opened the note:

"Lyra, 

 you must use fork and knife

 and eat in manner, no exceptions.

 And last thing… you try again,

 see what happens.

 —Silas"

"Try again…"

He must mean last time.

When I snapped.

When I cut up Ducky.

Destroyed the room.

He must see the fork as a danger…

And now he's giving me one again.

Testing me.

Be patient.

Wait.

Find the right time to use it.

I ate the crepes. Quiet. Careful.

Just like he wanted.

Ducky sat there. Watching me.

Always watching.

After that… yoga.

Body movement. Blood flow.

Gotta keep my heart steady somehow.

Almost like muscle memory…

Like I've done this before.

Wait—

Why do I know yoga so well?

Was that my hobby… before all this?

Before I became Lyra?

Why do I remember things… but not myself?

The next timer went off.

Red box.

I rushed over, starving.

Inside:

Two papers.

One laminated.

One note.

The laminated one:

House Rules:

1. Pray before each meal.

2. Place Ducky on the table before sleep.

3. Say "Good morning, Silas" when he is present.

4. Maintain eye contact and answer clearly when spoken to.

5. Do not question instructions.

6. Only Silas may decide what is best for you.

7. Obey all of the above without exception.

The note:

"Lyra, 

 you must speak 

 the rules out loud 

 twice a day.

 —Silas"

…

Speak them. Out loud.

Twice a day.

This isn't just a rule list.

It's a ritual.

A demon ritual.

But a rule is a rule…

At least, in here—it is.