I suppose you could say this is a continuation of Misery, it seems the people who reviewed it were fond of the story and were intrigued enough that they wanted to see a sequel somewhere.

Being a man of few duties and at the moment, no guarantees, I decided "Hey, why not."

If you haven't read Misery yet, you might be confused you might not be, depends on how well you read into context. If you're confused, go back and read it should you find the incentive to do so.

Word Count: 5296 words.

Do Androids Dream of Electrical Sheep?

"Aw, fuck."

Once again, Nate finds himself trapped in an enigmatic abyss of darkness situated somewhere in or around Aspertia City. It isn't the first time he's been stranded in such a rambunctious scenario, and his prior experience with such events has led him to predict just why he's been napped.

However, the boy is trapped not in a chair, but on a bed, much unlike his previous capture. His arms were restricted from movement thanks to a few rope knots tied at his wrists, mounted at the bed's posts.

There is no need to question the perpetrator, while Aspertia City is not free from the multitude of criminals that lurk in every city, at every corner, there is no doubt in the boy's mind that the girl he suspects is responsible for the deed. He has no evidence but previous experience, but the signs are obvious.

That being said, after living in town all his life, he can safely say that everyone he knows is not a lunatic. Save for the one he's pinning the blame of all this on.

The boy decides that as long as he's there, lying in the darkness, awaiting for his supposed threats of demise, he might as well try to enjoy it. Making short-lived fun out of desiccation is better than nothing, at least that's how he rationalizes it.

Breathing lightly, he tries to budge around, but to no avail. He gives up attempts for escape rather early, and instead focuses on his memory banks. After all, he can't exactly recall becoming unconscious all of a sudden.

With what little memory he does recover, he recalls himself going to bed earlier that night, followed by a short period of slumber. Being that he doesn't recall anything else form that point, he suspects that this act of high treason went on during his sleep.

The thought of experiencing a blissful, relaxing sleep under the stare of a pair of a soulless eyes is freaky to him once he thinks about it for a second time, like a twisted sort of happiness.

With nothing much else to do, Nate resorts to observing the darkened surroundings around him, while things may be blurry to spot, not all things are as obscure as others.

The lone light source in the room isn't even in the room, it belongs to a streetlamp just outside the room's only window. The light in question shines for only about two feet into the room's darkness, its maximum range.

Based on these judgements, Nate makes the conclusion that it's still night out. By extension, his night-napping theory proves true as well.

To be honest, as far as enjoyment of captivity goes, it isn't working all that well. He hasn't even reached the state of acceptance yet, all he would much rather do is just get back to the sleep he so desperately needed, preferably uninterrupted.

As one could infer, Nate is the type of boy that prefers to get his eight hours, unless an exception of high priority were to cause him to stay up. Like a majority of people who have any sense of looks, he isn't fond of bags.

It seems like tonight is one of those exceptions.

Even thinking about having fun doesn't come nearly close to actually having fun. Try as the boy might, his efforts to kill time continue to bring him nothing but failure. As much as he doesn't want to give up and just stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night, the option is starting to look like his only one left.

It's not like it was a good idea anyway, the situation is like trying to find gold in fecal matter, it's just too impossible, and too inane for someone to do. A normal person would just accept their fate, lie on the bed, and cry like the little exploitable prisoner bitch they are.

Nate has too much pride to go down that road though, someone could be watching him, which could lead to the possibility of that person having a recording device. A recording device to record his inevitable bitching and put it on the internet for all to see.

Surely no one wants to grow up with the title of sobbing bitch of the century on their slate.

The boy's thoughts are becoming tired, tedious, and a tad stale, a fault which he pins on the lack of sleep. In the end, he decides to close his eyes. Sleeping might not be the best idea when taken the consideration of the perpetrator lying about, but it's the only thing he can do without being reminded of his tight restraints.

Perhaps, with some luck, he'll wake up in the morning, and he'll be in his bed. Everything will have turned out to be some nightmare which he outlasted out of pure chance.

On the other hand, he could be molested in his sleep.

He begins dreaming of sheep to get that idea out of his mind, and out of the gutter.

A gate comes to his mind, a rather dreary gate, what with squeaky noises and notable deterioration. Despite that, it still manages to look passable within his mind, a sort of tool to represent the dream world going on in his mind.

A huddling group of mareeps line up to the gate, some pudgier than others. The static sheep all disassemble from their warm embrace to line up efficiently in front of the gate. As a shooting star passes over the gate, the lead mareep hops over the gate and lands on the other side.

"One."

Slowly, but surely, the lead mareep's friends join it on the other side with delicate, soundless hops. The sheeps are blissful little bundles of fluff, displaying their cuteness in a number of ways. Whether it be failing to make the jump, bumping into one another, or even one accidentally shocking the other.

The boy isn't sure whether or not he should even be dreaming of electrical sheep, he isn't necessarily an android after all.

A notably smaller mareep, a baby he presumes, tries to hop over the gate. Try as it might, the small little guy struggles to get over to the other side, its tail wagging and back stubs flailing in the air.

Embarrassed that the tot in front of him is experiencing technical difficulties, the bigger mareep behind him nudges him with his head.

He makes it over the gate in seconds.

"Ten, I think...?"

The final mareep in the group sports a held item, Wise Glasses, with its implicative problem-solving abilities, it easily opens the gate with its tail.

He smugly passes through the gate, rather than above it.

"Does that count as eleven...?'

Before he can answer his own question on account of nobody else being able to, Nate is given a rude awakening.

A quiet noise distorts his dream to the most severe degree, the pudgy little electric sheeps all succumb to an unknown temptation, and all lose their wool as a result. All of the stars in the night sky bloat up, they inflate to the size of giant spheres, no longer sporting sharp points. Not even a second later, they all explode just like balloons.

His eyes snap open.

A simple sound. A simple, quiet sound but nonetheless still a sound. A sound that brings him memories, memories of past times in a similar, hellbent situation. Even the shaven mareeps roaming about in his mind aren't prepared, nor safe, from the onslaught of burdens about to befall him.

Tink.

There are few things in the world that terrify Nate, only few things that petrify, and only one that makes his skin rattle, to shiver with such frosty discontent.

The latter is his mother, but that's irrelevant.

Each tink that tinks in the dark is just another subtle nudge to another inevitable psychological duel. The intervals between each metallic clank, while short, seem like an endless eternity.

Tink.

"Oh joy."

It's almost like this captor is taunting him, annoying him by poking at his nerves with such cantankerous tones. A literal, ticking time bomb of cacophonous horrors, lodged deep within his mind.

There is no escape.

If that was her intention, then it sure is working.

Tink.

It is at this time that the boy notices another sound that he had previously overlooked. They're quieter than the tinking, but still evident nonetheless. Nate would not have to worry about the noises being too low for long though, for with each step taken, the sound raised in volume.

To compare it to a thud on the ground would be right on the money, a sound that gets produced when someone is close, perhaps even getting closer, like a hunter stalking his prey for a delicious meal.

Whoever, or whatever is in the room with him, is approaching.

Thud.

Tink.

Thud.

Tink.

Whenever in situations like these, it's just best not to panic, period, lest give the perpetrator a sense of security. Needless whining about wanting to go home and go back to whatever one was doing is just a signal to the captor that he or she has full control of the prisoner's outcome.

While Nate continues to be profound in his belief of wanting to get back home, he knows it's best to keep quiet about it.

This process of seemingly endless torture by repetitive sounds comes to a close when Nate sees a portion of a shadow, illuminated by the street lamp outside.

No use in stalling anymore.

"Hey Rosa." says the boy in an overly bored tone, as if he's been faced with this trial before, which in hindsight is actually true. The boy wants to believe that because of that, the situation will be similar as well.

Knowing lunatics, probably not. If exaggerations are to be believed, there's at least twenty things flowing through their minds at all times of the day, and double that when their feelings are hurt.

To Nate's surprise, the tool in Rosa's hand is not of metallic nature, in fact, it's no where close to it at all. What he believed was something metal scraping against the wall at odd intervals was actually something less dangerous, and more simple in comparison.

A pencil.

Nate's immediate hypothesis is that perhaps she's changed. Perhaps she has come to realization that there's no sport in hurting the one person she loves more than anyone else with such a deadly weapon, he wonders to himself if there's more "honor" in doing away with someone using just a writing utensil.

Would sure serve as an ultimate achievement, if anything.

He notices something else in her other hand.

When she doesn't respond to his earlier greeting, he mistakenly assumes that she just didn't hear him, he speaks again to rectify this.

"So am I to guess that something's provoked you to do this or are you just showcasing your bonker-ness again?"

Rosa stares down at him with emotionless eyes, not even a smile nor scowl placed on her face. She is finally at the foot of the bed, and her close range allows Nate to see what she has in her other hand.

A book.

But not just any old book, not just any old tattered tome that someone would check out a dying library, what she has is far more horrifying than what any of those places has to offer.

A journal.

Now either Rosa has a new interest in studying about mundane subjects, or she's discovered a new worthwhile fetish catered to bookworms.

Nate admits to himself in thought that he does not want to meet the man who chokes himself off to books for a living.

It goes without question that he's meeting a woman instead.

It comes to the boy's attention that the girl herself isn't doing anything of interest. She's just staring at him with those dead eyes, giving off implications that she could strike any second and violate him if she had the mind to.

Which she definitely does. It's probably what she's thinking about right now even.

Nate decides to try one more time to communicate with her, believing that she could be just testing him for whatever reason.

"If you're not going to do anything, can I just leave now?"

Finally, he receives a response. On the contrary, it is not on in his favor.

Just a firm shake of her head.

Nate attempts to talk again to get another response, but his words are drowned out by a sudden pounce, courtesy of Rosa. His immediate instinct tells him to react with a sudden yelp, but that too gets drowned. She drops both the pencil and journal in order to do this.

"O-Oh my god N-Nate! You're actually talking, you're actually talking to me!" the first thing she actually says is equivalent to someone lusting like a fan girl, which isn't too far from what she is in hindsight.

"Ugh, of course I am. You act like this is the first time-"

"It's the first time tonight!" she says in a gleeful tone. As her tone continues to be filled with happiness, her grip on the boy tightens, her arms snake around his waist, and her head finds comfort in his chest.

"I don't think that's an achievement to be proud of..." Nate argues, but the girl won't hear any of it, seeing as how her ideals follow a more loose interpretation of what's right and what's wrong.

"Yes, yes it is! You've been ignoring me for so long that I almost, almost thought you forgot about me or maybe even didn't want to talk to me! Hahahaha, isn't that funny?! Isn't it funny that I thought about you doing something so stupid?! Hahahahaha, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Nate! I didn't mean to imply you'd do something like that, i-it's just that, ever since you left my basement, I thought maybe you had forgotten about "us"!"

Figures, if the boy gives her an inch, she'll take more than just a mile. Not even two kilometers would be enough to cover all the things she wants to express. Whether they be physically health threatening or not.

"Rosa, let's just clear things up here. I'm only going to say this one so make sure you remember. What happened in your grimy, disgusting basement was just me juggling options between escape and facing a guilt trip, which involved comforting a sad girl who tried way too hard to get noticed. But no, to you it seems like it's appeal to your sick, twisted romantic desires."

It's funny how the boy is unable to take his own advice, go about talking about not saying too much to the captor, then going ahead and doing it anyway for the sake of getting it through her thick skull. To be fair, he's still a naive, growing boy, and that's about the only excuse he can offer.

Rosa stops groping him as if he were a teddy bear. She blinks twice, almost as if to confirm what she had just heard was not in her head full of disturbing plots spoken in optimistic tone, but a real, real opinion about her made evident in real time.

Sad.

Sick.

Twisted.

She lifts her head up from her chest, still inquiring herself over the matter in her head. Many words and sentences implying lingering comfort flowed through her head, she couldn't believe it.

"Was that Nate's voice?"

"Did he say that?"

"N-No, it couldn't have been him. That's impossible, he loves me, he wouldn't ever dare say such a thing!"

"B-But, he and I are the only ones in this room."

"I know I didn't say it. I'm not crazy. I-I don't hurt myself like that."

"N-Nate..Did you just? W-Why, why would you say that?!"

"To make sure you get my point so I don't have to tell you again two or three more times. Rosa, please, I don't know what you thought I did, but it was just sympathy, read my lips, just sympathy."

Rosa frowns, "N-Nate...W-What's gotten into you, why are you saying that? I thought we had something! I thought you cared, I cared, h-how come you don't?! Don't you think I'm pretty?!"

Nate grunts, it's like she's taking his answers, turning them back into questions, and repeating them to his face. He attempts to shoot down her question with a simple no, but he is interrupted, and his submission falls over deaf ears.

"Don't you think I'm pretty, Nate?!"

To be honest, before this had all started, the boy thought little of her. Perhaps then and there there were thoughts on her occasional prettiness, maybe even if he had the courage, he would have told her too, but that was before he knew she was a raging psychopath in secret.

"Rosa, it's not about whether I find you pretty or not, that's not what love is abou-"

"S-So you think I'm ugly?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you think I'm pretty then?!" her hopes skyrocket, but it doesn't stay up there for long.

"I didn't say that either."

Rosa balls up her fists, unable to comprehend the boy's difficult logic. She wondered how on earth it could be so hard for someone to just accept what they had coming and love her, she wonders why he isn't one of those people.

"Then what are you trying to say!?" light fists hit Nate's chest, signs that she is at discontent with his responses.

"What I'm trying to say is, while I do think you're "pretty", I don't love you the way you love me, that's borderline insanity."

Rosa stares at him, something she's been doing a lot of lately. But this stare is different. It isn't one of those intense stares that she does when she's trying to observe the boy of her dreams, it's more like one of those "Are you fucking serious?"-type of looks.

Nate comes to conclusion that he may have pushed the envelope too far, she may be a sympathetic person, but she's also capable of some pretty deranged things.

She divulges into laughter, "Hahahahaha, that's funny Nate! I-It really is! I kidnap you, take you to my house for a romantic evening, tell you how much I care about you, and then you just lie here and tell me how don't like me? Hahahahahaha, t-that's not it's supposed to go, Nate! Y-You're supposed to tell me how much you care for me!"

The girl has gone way past the point of all self-help, all Nate can really do is just provide more banter, in hopes that with some stroke of luck, he'll be spared if he uses the right words.

"I'd like to take this moment to remind you that this is not romantic. And stop putting words in my mouth, I never said I didn't like you, I merely said I don't like you to the disturbing extent that you do to me."

She doesn't seem to be understanding that.

Rosa begins to slam her fists on his chest, slowly at first, but the pace quickens in a matter of seconds. Again, her logic failed by such a cute, carefree boy.

"N-No N-Nate...Y-You're supposed to like me, you're supposed to like me and appreciate me! I like you, what's so hard about contributing to that?! I'm doing this for you, Nate! Why won't you do something for me!?"

"I could buy you some self-help books if you think that'll work." his unruly comment causes something within her to break, and Nate quickly realizes this. If he wasn't going too far earlier, he definitely was now.

He expects some more confused love rambling, but in return, he gets something more out-of-the-blue and unexpected.

Sobs.

His only real weakness.

Or at least, his only real weakness that she knows of.

Absolutely no amounts of "Rosa, please..." can stop the girl from spewing tears onto the boy's jacket. Great, if it isn't enough that he has to tell her right from wrong, now he's going to look like the bad guy just because of the guilt trip she's forcing upon him.

And he's clearly not the bad guy. He's just defending himself from a kidnapper, there's nothing bad about that. He shouldn't have to suffer because his captor isn't getting her sick way.

By the looks of it, it's her only way too. The word "compromise" just doesn't seem to exist in her inner dictionary, it's either her way or the highway.

Right now being dumped down the latter in a body bag sounds pretty good.

Tears continue to protrude the boy's jacket as he tries to restrain himself from being hit by the massive guilt train. This is not his fault, he has little to nothing to do with it. He is completely innocent, just a pedestrian caught in the crossfire of a girl's silly little crush.

She continues to sob, not showing any signs of stopping anytime soon. It is only when she sticks her hand in her pocket does she stop crying.

For a minute, Nate believes he's in the clear, but his fears escalate rather than get put to rest when he sees the girl pull out a deadly weapon.

"A knife. Oh god she does have knives...God fuck, why did it have to be knives?!"

It's kind of a rare sight seeing a crying person wielding any weapon of bodily harm, and now that Nate's seen it in action, he really wishes he hadn't.

He starts to lose his cool. Not today. No. Not on the fourteenth of all days. He is not going to be killed by a stalker.

"R-Rosa...What are you going to do with that knife?"

Only now does she show full understanding of his queries, not like it'll save him anymore now.

"I-I'm s-sorry Nate, i really am! I-I just have to make you understand, I don't want to hurt you, really I don't! I only hurt you because I love you! P-Please understand Nate, I promise I won't do it again, I just have to make sure you love me.."

Nate's person shivers, his eyes looking up at Rosa's twisted face, the water-working eyes, half-smile, and all. How could someone so insane expect to get petty romance in exchange of harming their lover?

The production rate of the tears begin to slow down, fewer hit his jacket at more infrequent intervals. All the while the boy's eyes can do nothing but stare at the girl dangling the knife over his person.

He's going to die in her bed with her on top of him if he doesn't do something soon. Knowing her, he honestly wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be a necrophiliac.

If he ends up dying now, he'll know exactly what his rotting corpse will end up being used for, and it won't be pretty.

"R-Rosa? Can I just point out that being a sex doll won't be good on my résumé?"

The half-smile grows to a full one, the tears reach a full halt, and the girl's eyes are wide open, twitching at intervals most oddest. From that point on, time halts to a stand-still, and Nate is at a loss at what to do.

Having yapped more than he should have, he's now written himself into a corner he probably won't get out of unless he employs some quick-thinking. If Rosa releases her emotional rage to a certain degree, Nate's life as he knows it will most likely be expired.

With no way to break out of the ropes, and no way to overcome the girl straddled upon his person, his solution will have to be found in the form of more yapping.

Hey, fight fire with fire after all.

But a new dilemma sits over Nate's head just as he finds a solution. He now is puzzled as to what he is to say to her, if he pokes her sides more with more taunting, that could just result in giving her more than enough incentive to do away with him.

On the other hand, if he pleads her to stop, it will show her that he's weak, and that she has full control of the situation, also giving her motivation to go through with stabbing her love, even if it pains her.

If Nate lashes out at her, she'll be surprised, but she'll regain herself after moment's time, and then deal the possibly fatal blow.

So far, all of Nate's scenarios have ended in a negative way simply because what he's said has caused her to react like that. Clearly what the boy needs to save himself from a lovely grave is to say something charming to her, something so charming that she'll drop everything, if not just to hear him say it again.

Even if that means he has to lie.

As Rosa raises the blade over her head, repeatedly telling herself to be forgiven in the future for the sin she's about to commit.

She lowers the blade abruptly, the calling card for Nate to get his act together before it's too late.

And mere inches away from his skin getting torn open, he does just that.

"Rosa, I love you!"

Just as fast as her mind snaps, it quickly repairs itself in response to that.

Nate breaths a sigh of relief, having just saved himself from getting cut open, but now he fears just how much longer he's saved himself by. Having confessed faux love to her was just a ruse to stall for time, but it has proven the boy's theory of positive things loosening her up. If he wishes to escape with no strings or scars ahead, he'll have to keep up this risky charade.

Besides, it's not like he's doing anything wrong. She wanted to hear him say something romantic, he said it. May not have been true to the extent she wanted it to be, but beggars can't be choosers. At the very least, it's a lie that the boy could have gotten away with as truth, should the girl have not been so psychotic.

And only now does he realize how overloaded his brain has become with thinking lately.

Her arms snake around him again, her face inhales his scent.

For some reason, it's coconuts of all things.

To her, intoxicating.

"Ohhh, Nate! I just knew it, I just knew you liked me, I always knew deep deep deep deep in the bottom of my heart that you cared! You were just too shy to show it, why do you keep playing hard to get, silly-boo?"

A little bit too overboard with the intense excitement, but otherwise, this is the Rosa that Nate vastly prefers over the crazed one he was conversing with mere moments earlier. It was like he was talking to two different people, it was intriguing how quick she could switch from said personalities.

But now, Nate has just sacrificed his dignity for a clear-cut escape, and he isn't sure if he'll ever shake the girl off of his tail now. He doesn't even know what to do, what to say, fuck anything if it just makes this girl go away for good.

"W-Well, you, um...you know me!" he says with a hint of forced optimism.

She doesn't catch it. Being blinded by love must sure feel great.

"I do, I do know you, Nate." her rather cryptic words bring him to another conclusion. Now that he's written himself into a hole he'll probably never get out of, not only must he keep her happy just to stay alive, but merely talking with any other girl that is not of blood relation to him will land him in a pit of eternal hellfires.

It's best he remove Yancy's number before things get too hasty. Or maybe just let her down smoothly that the crush she harbors for him will have to be put on hold, as the boy himself is a prisoner of love himself.

As the insane girl babbles on and on about more things they'll be able to do together now that they've "confessed", Nate's thoughts about his future just make him sadder and more fearful of his life. Above all, what the hell is his mother going to think when she finds out his significant other is a bun-toting lunatic?

What with her dense, motherly caring logic, probably love-at-first-sight.

His thoughts are cut short when the girl kisses him, her hand snaking down to his unmentionables.

Nate, not wanting to reveal his true intentions, returns the kiss with neutral reaction to them at first.

But then the lower-half of his body, having not learned a single bit from the previous interaction with her, finds itself stricken with a blissful rise into "proper shape".

The boy cannot help nature. To his body, a girl is a girl, regardless of what secondary effects they bring upon their love. His body believes that the boy is a stupid child for rejecting such a great catch, and yearns for Nate to let go and accept it.

And for some reason, which to this day he still doesn't fully understand, he begins to sincerely think about it.

Perhaps he has been thinking about this rather incorrectly? Has his mind really only looked at the cons to having a stalker girlfriend?

For one, he'd have full protection against anyone that wishes to harm him, most likely full coverage on health support on top of that. Two, once one bypasses the fact that she is a crazed loon, he admits that she definitely isn't that bad, pretty even. And if it meant more stimulating scenes like this, ones that his growing body can't help but succumb to, then that was alright with him.

Three.

The ropes have been untied by her to gain better dominance.

To her brief surprise, he wraps his hands around her, and returns the kiss with actual pride in the sport. She takes notice, and smiles too.

That dastardly, wicked smile, the one that lets everyone around her know that the day is in her favor.

They lie there for a while, and Nate is ultimately convinced in the end that things might not be so bad after all. He'll just have to find ways to keep her controlled and all, make sure not too many bodies end up in the dumpster.

When he wakes up in the morning to find the girl pleasantly sleeping in his chest, he discovers the journal and pencil from the night prior, laying askew on her bedside table.

The girl breathes quietly in her sleep, all the more reason for him to intrude on just what was so damn important about that book.

It is her diary.

Within it, a multitude of entries, a majority focusing around him. Him and his, as the journal quoted, "angelic" appearance and how it was described as such each and everyday differently.

The fourteenth's entry is marked with a small heart, and a hastily-scrawled reminder to go buy a heart-shaped box of candy as soon as the timeframe allows it.

He need not ask who the recipient be.

He lies back in the bed, and hugs his newly-acquired maiden. He does not love her yet, it'll take some time and "soul-searching" before he really knows what he wants, but for now, it's nice to live life knowing that the possibility for true admiration to blossom still remains, and that he'll live for another day.

Whether or not he has made a bad decision, is not to up to him anymore.

What is however, is what type of chocolate filling to request her to get for him.