His Perfect Lyra

Lyra's POV 

I told you, you need Ducky more than you think.

From now on, Ducky must always sit on the table before you sleep. 

That's the rule.

Please follow it.

—-Silas

That's what the note says.

A new rule.

I stare at it, my hands shaking.

What is this?

Does he really think he can control every part of my life with his stupid rules and fake routine?

That's it.

I've had enough.

I rip the note into pieces and toss them in the air like confetti.

Then I grab Ducky—

That stitched-up little spy—

And throw him as hard as I can against the wall.

He hits the floor, limp.

But it's not enough.

I shove the TV off the table.

It crashes to the ground, the screen splintering into static and dead glass.

I'm shaking, breath ragged.

"F**k you, Silas!"

I grab the fork.

Rip the couch cushions open—

Feathers everywhere.

Tear the bed apart.

Pillows exploding like white snow.

The washroom mirror—

I smash it, letting water pour out from the sink, flooding the floor.

Everything.

Everything.

Broken.

I collapse in the corner, head down between my knees.

What now?

If I break his rules, will he make it worse?

What's the next punishment?

Worse than lights out?

Starving? Cold?

…Should I just play along?

I don't know anymore.

And then—

The lights go out.

Silence.

Followed by—

The sound of the door opening.

My heart stops.

He's coming.

He must've seen everything.

He's here to punish me.

But…

There's no footsteps.

No breathing.

Just open air.

Slowly, I lift my head.

My eyes adjust to the faint green glow of the stars overhead.

The door.

It's wide open.

And not just any door.

That white door I saw my first day here.

The one with no handle.

The one I could never open.

It's just… there. Waiting.

I stand. Legs shaking.

I walk toward it.

Inside?

Nothing.

Just a blank, perfect little space.

Like a hiding spot.

Or a trap.

I hesitate.

But I step in anyway.

For one second, it feels like freedom.

But when I turn around—

The door slams shut in my face.

I scream.

Bang on the door.

"No—wait! Shit—"

I press my ear against the wood.

Listening.

Breathing hard.

Footsteps.

Hammering.

Things being moved.

Something… else.

A scent. Sweet.

Like new wood.

Fresh paint.

Flowers.

He's changing the room.

————

I don't know how long I'm stuck there.

An hour? More?

My legs ache from standing.

I slide down to the floor, curling up again.

And then—

The door opens.

I stumble out.

And freeze.

The whole room…

It's different.

Everything's been replaced.

Clean. Neat. New.

But still…

There, on the bed—

Sitting perfectly—

Ducky.

Waiting.

Again.

And around his neck—

Another note.