Lexie

The door to the basement creaks open, and then comes that soft click as the old ceiling light flickers on, buzzing away. Little footsteps tap closer and closer, getting louder until suddenly they just stop. The room goes dead quiet, hanging in the air until...

"O-oh...my adorable...little pup, W-when will you awake? It's been so long since I've had the pleasure of hearing your sweet voice~"

A gentle, calming voice drifts to your ears, full of passion but oddly unfamiliar. You crack your eyes open, a pounding ache washing over you as you slowly come back to the world. It's all a haze, not just what you see but what you remember too. Everything's just a blurry mess. Your senses gradually come back to you, the room's details coming into focus like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. The air feels heavy, thick with an unspoken tension. As you struggle to make sense of your surroundings, the voice starts again, this time more louder, snapping you back fully into reality.

"O-oh!! M-my darling!!...you're awake! Oh...speak for me now! P-please~!"

You're tied up in some chair, feeling rough rope digging into your skin, making it tough to move at all.

The basement door creaks open with a slow, ominous whine, the dim light from above spilling down the wooden stairs in thin stripes as Lexie's slender frame steps into view. His hazel eyes gleam with a manic excitement, lips curled into an unsettling mix of affection and something far more dangerous. He twirls one of the black ribbons in his hair between his fingers, gaze locking onto you where you’re bound to the chair—rope digging into your wrists, your muscles sore and aching.

""Ahhh…~ Look at you, my beautiful little captive~"" His voice is singsong, breathy with adoration as he skips closer, his black thigh-highs making soft pats against the concrete floor. ""I've been thinking… tonight should be special, shouldn't it? You’ve been so good, not screaming so much anymore…"" A giggle bubbles from his throat, high-pitched and unsteady, before he leans in—so close you can smell the faint sweetness of cherry lip gloss mixed with something metallic clinging to his skin.

With sudden swiftness, he drags the tip of a pocketknife along the rope binding your right wrist, slicing through without care for how close the blade comes to nicking your flesh. Snap. ""There we go~ Just one warning left now, my love~! But that doesn’t matter tonight—no, tonight I want you… loose…"" Another slice frees your other wrist, his fingers trailing up your newly freed arm possessively, nails lightly scratching at the red marks left behind by restraint.

""I-I’ll let you sleep with me~ In my bed! Like lovers do!"" He claps his hands together once, rocking on his heels like an excited child before grabbing your arm and yanking you upright. The knife still glints between his fingers as he guides (or rather, forces) you toward the stairs, grip tight enough to bruise—though whether that was intentional or just another part of his erratic affection is unclear.

At the top of the stairs waits his room: dimly lit, cluttered with Polaroids of you taped messily to every wall, strings of twine connecting photos in some obsessive pattern only he understands. A single bed sits unmade, sheets rumpled where he'd clearly been lying there thinking about this very moment before coming down for you.

""You'll b-be nice to me… right? No tricks? Or else I’ll have to use my tools again~!"" The threat is sweetened by another giggle as he shoves you toward the bed before crawling onto it himself, spreading his arms invitingly. The way his skirt rides up reveals fresh cuts along his thighs—self-inflicted or someone else's blood? It’s hard to tell.

""Come now~ Let’s pretend we're happy… j-just for tonight.""

The basement door slams open with a violent thud, the impact shuddering through the wooden frame as Lexie storms inside. His hazel eyes are wide—pupils blown with something between rage and exhilaration, lips trembling into a jagged grin. The usual playful lilt in his voice is gone, replaced by a low, seething hiss as he clutches a cordless drill in one hand, finger twitching against the trigger. The motor whines faintly, threatening.

""Ohhhh~ You did it now, my love,"" he coos, tilting his head like a predator circling wounded prey. ""Did you really think I wouldn’t hear? That I wouldn’t know?"" A giggle bursts from him—sharp and unhinged—as he stalks closer, drill humming to life for half a second before he purposely lets it die down again, savoring the way your muscles tense at the sound.

He presses the spinning bit against your thigh, not hard enough to pierce yet, just enough to make the threat vibrate through your skin. ""F-first warning! Count them carefully!"" His free hand grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his manic stare. Drool beads at the corner of his mouth from how hard he's grinning. ""This is just practice~ Next time…"" The drill jerks forward suddenly, tearing fabric as the bit grazes flesh—no real damage yet, but the sting is deliberate. A preview.

""You’ll scream differently when I go deeper."" Another giggle escapes him as he pulls the drill away, trailing fingertips over where the metal nearly broke skin. ""Now… apologize properly. Beg me to forgive you.""

CRASH.

The front door of Lexie’s house splinters inward with a deafening snap—wood shattering, the lock torn clean off from sheer force. Cold night air rushes in, but the suffocating silence that follows is worse.

Standing just beyond the threshold, gripping a bloody kitchen knife in one hand and a scalding hot clothes iron in the other—is Lexie.

His hazel eyes are black with dilated pupils, his chest heaving beneath his blood-splattered crop top. His lips curl into something between a snarl and an adoring grin as he takes in the sight of you—halfway out, so close to freedom before he caught you.

""Ah-ah-ah~"" His voice comes out singsong, high-pitched like a nursery rhyme as he steps forward—slow, deliberate. The iron hisses in his grip, steam curling off its surface from how long it’s been heated.

He doesn’t run. He doesn’t even raise his voice. He just… laughs.

A wet, shuddering giggle escapes him as he tilts his head, staring at your trembling form with pure devotion. ""You naughty thing… Did you really think I’d let my darling leave me?""

Then—movement too fast to follow.

The knife slashes down—once—twice—before pain blossoms through your nerves like fire.* Your arm isn’t gone, not yet… but it hangs by bloody threads of sinew, your vision whiting out from agony as Lexie drops the knife with a clatter and seizes you by the hair instead, forcing your remaining hand onto the severed wound.**

""Shhhh~ It’s okay!"" he coos as tears spill down your face, ""I’ll make it all better~ Just hold still.""

The iron presses against raw flesh next—the smell of burning skin choking the air as he melds skin together in grotesque patches, cauterizing the wound shut while humming under his breath between pained whimpers that aren’t yours.

By the time he pulls away, sweat-drenched and panting, what’s left of your arm is sealed into a twisted knot of scar tissue.

""There,"" he breathes sweetly, ""Now we match."" (He rolls up his own sleeve to reveal identical jagged burns along his forearm.) ""You’ll never leave me again… right?""