His Perfect Lyra

Lyra's POV 

Lyra,

 You've had your outburst.

 That's allowed. One time.

 But this is the last time.

 Follow the rule,

 or things will change

 permanently.

 Please choose wisely.

 —Silas

That's what the note says.

A warning. 

I shake my head, fingers trembling.

What rules is he even talking about?

All I know is: pray before eating.

Put Ducky on the table before sleep.

That's it… right?

My hand slips, and another slip of paper falls out from behind the note.

Another note? Two?!

I grab it off the floor, heart pounding.

Turn it over—

And feel my stomach drop.

HOUSE RULES:

1. Pray properly before eating.

2. Ducky must always be placed on the table before sleep.

3. —

4. —

5. —

6. —

7. —

Only two written.

The rest… blank.

More rules I haven't even seen yet.

My breath catches.

I cover my mouth with both hands, sinking down to the floor.

This isn't over.

It's never been over.

I look around.

The room is completely new. 

The same layout—but different: 

The TV now looks newer. Early 2000s style.

The couch—fresh black leather. Bigger. Perfect for two… or more.

The bed's still full-size, but now the blankets are blue. Not yellow. A sad, heavy blue. 

The washroom's been remodeled—just a toilet, a small connected sink. Still a shower.

But… no mirror.

And the table?

Same as before.

But now—two chairs.

Why?

Why two?

Is he planning to come sit here?

Eat with me?

Watch me?

Or is it just to mess with my head?

I press my palms against my eyes.

What does he want from me?

All I can hear in my head is his voice:

"Please follow the rule."

Over and over.

The rule.

His rule.

I have to follow it.

To survive.

To… live.

The moment that thought settles in, something inside me cracks.

Like I've lost a part of myself.

——————

It's twenty-two days now.

Since the breakdown. Since the trashing of the room.

I've been… good.

No outbursts.

The meals come as usual. Warm.

But now, always with plastic forks.

Can't use those as weapons.

He planned that, too.

At least… at least I get new clothes.

But I feel lost.

Like I've lost the game.

Like he won.

I'm trapped in his routine.

His life.

His rules.

⸻

Later day,

I sit at the table now.

Across from Ducky.

Just… staring.

And then—

Ducky's beak moves.

"Hello!" 

His soft wing flips up like he's waving.

But he's not moving.

I stare, mouth falling open.

Frozen.

Oh God.

I must be hallucinating.

That's it.

I've finally gone too far.