Word count: ~620
Dead dove:do not eat | tw: abuse, manipulation, coercion, violence, dissociation (implied)
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The cellar smelled musty and metallic. The lights above flicker once, then settle. The air goes still—then the door slams open, two figures stumbling into the room.
The taller figure pushes the smaller forward. She stumbles and catches herself on the edge of something metal. It screeches against the floor.
He doesn't reach for her.
The door shuts behind them, the click of the latch sounding louder than it should.
She's already halfway there before she realizes she's moving.
Marcy steadies herself, shifting her weight as she stands. Her gaze stays down, hands loosely clasped in front of her.
Marcy hesitates—then lifts her head.
Tim stands in front of her, his cracked porcelain mask dull and unreadable.
"You hesitated," he repeats, "And let yourself fail your orders."
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, barely audible, her gaze dropping back to the concrete.
"You follow instructions. Nothing else."
The silence that follows stretches.
Marcy's fingers tighten slightly where they rest in front of her.
"...I follow instructions."
"I follow instructions. Nothing else."
Tim steps closer. Not enough to touch—just enough that she notices.
"I follow instructions. Nothing else."
The words come quieter this time. Closer.
Marcy's thoughts stutter.
"I—" Her voice catches. "I didn't—"
"That wasn't the question."
The interruption is immediate. Clean.
Marcy forces the words out. "I thought—"
Silence again. He lets it sit there.
The silence presses in, thick, expectant.
“I don’t think,” she repeats, quicker now. “I follow instructions. Nothing else.”
Not enough to name. Just enough that she feels it.
Tim tilts his head, watching her.
“You hesitated,” he says again.
The words land closer this time.
“I don’t hesitate,” she says, the words catching at the edges.
“I don’t think,” she starts, forcing the words out in order, “I don’t hesitate. I follow instructions. Nothing else.”
Tim steps in, closing the space between them.
His hand catches under her chin, abrupt, controlled, forcing her head up when it starts to dip.
“Look at me when you speak.”
“I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I follow instructions—”
The last words don’t come.
The sound is sharp. Sudden.
Marcy’s head snaps to the side before she can stop it.
“Nothing else,” Tim says, like he’s correcting a misplaced word.
Marcy swallows, forcing her gaze steady.
"I don't think. I don't hesitate. I follow instructions. Nothing else."
She says it again before he can speak.
"I don't think. I don't hesitate. I follow instructions. Nothing else."
Her voice shakes with every repetition.
The words come easier the next time.
