I had my head positioned on a pillow in an unfamiliar location, watching as the static-plagued television switched from channel to channel. The couch I lay my body on was comfortable, albeit a little squeaky. If there was one indisputable fact about my current location, it was that this wasn't my home, nor a place I wanted to live out my days. Eternally indoors, confined and treated as livestock to a cruel 'thing'. I never thought I'd be saying this, but I miss my job at the coffee shop. I miss pouring espresso and hearing the grunts of people who haven't quite woken up yet. 

     The constant flickering of sound of the television stopped abruptly, it stopped at a violent crime scene which was blurred. The news anchors were uneasy, perplexed and horrified by the unexplained murders here recently in New York. I can't say I blamed them, but I cannot help them. If I even made one little effort to assist them, she would give me hell to pay. 

    "The string of the unexplained murders continue, this time, the victim appears to have been identified as 'Regina Langley', who was a manager at the local 'Tasteful Brew' coffee shop. The only thing in common with these murders is that they all seem to be related somehow to the reported as missing 'Jonah Kennedy', who is the prime suspect for these murders."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

     They think I'm the one who killed all those people, and that's the secondary reason of why she keeps me locked up here. It's been days, or maybe even weeks since I last exited this apartment. I would try and run for my life right now, but it's futile. She broke my legs, she broke my two damn legs. If I want something to drink or eat? I have to crawl to the fridge. 

      She says she does all this because of love, but if she truly loved me, she'd let me live my life. 

Then, at that very moment, I would hear the most terrifying sound possible, a sound that echoed through my brain and made me anxious of what was to come next. The clicking of the door's lock, clacking of her heels against the wooden floor of the apartment, and the exhausted sigh of a lady who had a twisted definition of love. 

     "Did you miss me, honey? I brought home Chinese takeout, your favorite!"~ She said in an excited tone. At the very least, I could depend on orange chicken and lo-mein to ease my feelings of terror.