I was just rambling to my friends (cause tbh,,,not doin so hot rn) and I came up with the line āThe most beautiful things are also the scariest.ā Do with that line what you will.
(Hugs I hope you feel better soon ā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø)
This silent back and forth between you two only lies behind the screen. You know you can back away. You know you can click out of the video at any point. You know you can end this.
But youāre still watching.Ā
Why are you still watching?
Your shoulders sag, the weight of molten lead dragging you down. You want to move, to get up, to quit and click out of this video like he told you, but you canāt.Ā
His words donāt hold the same weight as his actions.
His stare pierces through you, pinning you in place, and you canāt bear to look away. The silence brings static, white noise itching at your brain and crawling through your skin. The hair on your neck prickles, but youāre forced to keep watching, forced to ignore the strings appearing on your wrists.Ā
And finally, youāre rewarded.
He smirks, and the air shifts, the true face revealed from behind the mask.Ā āYou passed the test.ā He says, and his eyes hold a hidden, devious glint.Ā āLetās move on to the next phas-ā
The video cuts out and youāre left there, held captive by the still, black screen. Was that truly the end? Is this another test? Do you want there to be another test? You canāt say for certain.
And yet, you canāt help but feelā¦ proud. You did what he wanted. You passed the test. You impressed him, and you canāt help the pleased grin that slides upon your face.Ā
You still havenāt looked away from the screen. You have no reason to. You want to go back and watch it again and again. You want to pass the test again. You want to admire his mesmerizing gaze and his subtle expressions, praising him for the wonderful job heās done.
You want to witness his beauty.
But sometimes, the most beautiful things are also the scariest.Ā
A hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your cry as a knifeās raised to your throat. The white noise grows louder, burrowing into your brain and digging into your skull. You canāt move, you canāt think, you canāt breathe, and all you can hear is a low chuckle as warm breath rushes past your ear.Ā
ā IĢ·tās ĢØtĢøiĢØmĢ“e, Ģ§puĶppet.Ģ¶ā He croons, and the strings tighten around your wrists and throat. āLĶeĶ tĶ'Ģ·s Ģ§seeĶ Ķif you'rĢ¶eĢ¢ rĢµeaĶ dy ĶfoĶr ŅthĶe next Ģ·pĶhaĢ¶seĶ ā
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