I lay against their lap, my head tilted back, exposing the vulnerable stretch of my throat as the cold press of the blade sends a violent shiver down my spine. Their fingers tangle lazily in my hair, a soft hum escaping their lips as they gaze down at me with something sickly sweet in their eyes.
“You’re so cute like this,” they murmur, pressing the edge a little deeper. Not enough to cut—just enough to make my breath hitch. “Do you trust me?”
Their lips curl into something knowing, something that should set alarms screaming in my head. But it doesn’t. I only stare up at them, body pliant in their hold, heart hammering, waiting—until they drag the knife across my throat in one clean, swift motion.
Heat blooms instantly, red-hot and searing. My breath catches. My hands jerk up on instinct, fingers clawing at my neck, desperate to hold in the wound—but there’s nothing there. No blood, no gaping slit, no warmth spilling over my skin.
My stomach churns, my vision blurs at the edges, a strangled sound ripping from my throat as I blink up at them in sheer panic. Their laugh is rich and full, spilling into the air like silk laced with venom.
“Oh, sweetheart,” they croon, tapping the blade against my lips. “You should’ve seen your face.”
The knife drops onto my chest, and I barely register the sound of it clattering against my ribs. My whole body is trembling, lungs heaving for air I can’t seem to catch. They tilt their head, gaze brimming with amusement as they twirl the blade between their fingers.
“Relax,” they say, leaning down until their lips ghost over my ear. “It’s fake. I just ran it under some hot water before we started. But, god, for a second, you really thought I did it, didn’t you?”
I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.
They cup my cheek, forcing me to meet their gaze, and smile. “Told you I loved you, didn’t I? You trust me, don’t you?”
My whole body is screaming, every nerve set alight with phantom pain, and yet I can’t bring myself to do anything but nod.
