gothic klonnie 2k17: day 3 – carmillaÂ
“You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me.”
It’s day 447. She has kept track of her imprisonment since the
first day. It’s something to pass the time, something to keep her grounded.
Otherwise, she’ll float away.Â
She knows today will be like any other day. He won’t let her
go.Â
But it’s in her nature to try until there’s nothing left, until
she takes her last breath.
So she climbs down the stairs and joins him in the parlor where
they take their breakfast.
He’s reading the newspaper.Â
Bonnie sits down at her assigned seat next to him.Â
“Good morning,” she mutters wanly.Â
“Mm. Your eggs are getting cold,” he says, flipping the page.
Bonnie has no appetite. Some days she’s famished. Today, she just
wants to rest her head on the table and close her eyes.Â
Klaus notices her mood immediately. He sets the paper down.Â
“Now, now. You need sustenance.”
She’s come to hate the broad strokes of his features. Oh, she’s
always hated him in an abstract fashion. He was the terror of Mystic Falls, the
devious hybrid who could make all other creatures cower. But at least then she
wasn’t forced to break bread with him. She wasn’t forced to witness him in
private quarters. After living with him for a year and two months, she loathes
him in a completely different way. Her hatred is coarse, like river water,
filled with little rocks and reeds and impurities.Â
“I’ll just have some coffee,” she mutters, massaging her
temples.Â
“Shall I pour?” he offers genially, and picks up the steaming
pot. “One sugar, no cream, if I recall right.”
She nods, but the domesticity of the scene makes her nerves
brittle. Because she also knows he takes his tea with three drops of milk and
one spoonful of honey.
“Klaus, please, it’s been over a year -” she begins, as she always
does, futilely.
“Save your breath, darling.”Â
“Whatever lesson or punishment you wanted to inflict on me,
it has more than achieved its goal -”
Klaus leans forward without warning and brushes a stray lock from
her cheek, his knuckles almost touching her skin. She recoils
instinctively.Â
He laughs cruelly, removing his hand. “Clearly it has not,
since you’re still wary of my touch.”
“I’ll let you touch me, I promise-”
But it’s the wrong thing to say. She always puts her foot in it somehow.
Because she can’t map the labyrinth of his desires. Because she can’t give him
what he wants.
His nostrils flare, though he remains composed.
“No, not
like that. Not under duress.”Â
“You’ve taken me away under
duress,” she replies angrily, almost reaching for the fork, though little
good that would do. She has tried so many ways of escaping and hurting him
these past months that it has become a sort of reflex to reach for a weapon.Â
“Yes, I have. And you shall remain that way until you prove to me
that you do not need a cage.”Â
“Cage,” she echoes flatly, staring at the brocade that covers the
table. She knows what this cage is, she knows what the door entails. She could
even procure the key. But she won’t. Because the price is too steep.Â
It’s day 447 and she won’t say what she’s thinking. On some days,
she tells him. She tells him, I
will never love you, or want you, or need you. I will never welcome your touch.
You are wasting your time. You are wasting my life.
She hates him like river water, with so many impurities. Sometimes
she tells him that, I
hate you. And he seems to enjoy her
confession. As if she’s giving him something of herself by releasing her
rancor.
But not today. She won’t say it today. She won’t give him
that.Â
Klaus smiles a twisted smile and picks up his newspaper again. He
knows she has nowhere to flee. He knows she will stay in her cage.Â
Bonnie picks up the fork.Â
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