No!

I threw the scissors against the wall, crying out, "Erik, I'll marry you, I'll marry you! Let me out, please!... please..."

A day had passed. I had been in that room for a day without any sign of him.

His footsteps came slowly down the hallway, tiredly. I had my head buried in my hands, sobbing at the fact that I was no longer mine, nor had I truly ever been.

The door opened, and Erik came over to me timidly. He raised my head with the tip his finger.

"You will marry me?" He asked, his voice a whisper.

I nodded, "I will, I will..."

He began to cry, kissing the hem of my dress, and both my hands, unable to contain himself. He slid a diamond ring, the engagement ring, onto my finger alongside the other, and kissed it. I sat there limply, staring off into the distance, up at my painted ceiling, but not focusing on anything in particular.

"You will be the happiest of women," he told me. "Do not cry anymore, my Christine, my sweet little Christine, I will make you happy... So very, very happy..."

He helped me up, and I leaned on him, my eyes glassy. He took me into the drawing room and set me on the sofa, then took his place at my feet. In seeing my blank expression, however, he got up and grabbed Ginger, then set her in my arms.

When I did not react, he took my hand and ran it over her soft fur. I still looked somewhere past him, blinking infrequently.

He started to cry, "Have you died, my Christine? Has being engaged to Erik killed you?"

I blinked, coming out of my daze. I turned to look at him, and my eyes cleared.

"No," I replied softly. "I live yet."

I began to stroke the rabbit, returning to my senses. Erik watched me nervously, and every once in a while he would pace around, talking animatedly about his plans for the future. I simply sat there, nodding when I should, barely breathing.

That night he made me dinner, a special dinner in celebration of our engagement, with all my favorite foods, including Swedish ones. I barely ate any of it, and for most of it I simply cried, causing him to become greatly distressed.

After dinner, he had me sit on the sofa again, and he asked me what I wanted to do. He told me he would play music for me, if I wanted, and that he could also entertain me in other ways. He asked me if I wanted to hear his ventriloquism, or if I would like to see some card tricks.

"Or simply read, my Christine?" He offered finally. "Would you like to read?"

"Would you read to me?" I asked, my voice soft and weary.

"Yes, of course, if you want. Whatever you would like... Which book?"

"Something happy... anything happy."

"Yes, to cheer you up. What a wonderful idea, my dear, my darling. One moment."

He went to the bookshelf and ran his bony fingertips down multiple spines before settling on one. He came over to me, pleased with himself.

"This is a book of poems," he told me. "Happy ones about nature and the sky, like you love."

I nodded blankly, not really listening to a word he was saying. He went on like that for hours, and his voice relaxed me until I fell asleep from its spell.

I woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, and found Erik fast asleep on the floor at the foot of my bed. I winced at the sight.

"Poor Erik," I whispered, standing up and going over to light a candle.

The ray of light caught the scissors, and they gleamed in it. I went over to my cruel tormentors, eying them with disgust and distaste.

But I could still have need of them.

I placed them back into my dresser, then slipped under my covers again, falling asleep instantly.

In the morning, to no surprise, Erik had left a note for me, this time accompanied by a single white rosebud.

"My dear fiancée,

I have gone out to procure gifts for you and look at wedding dresses. I will select three and you may choose between them. Some fruit is in a bowl on the table for you, if you are hungry.

Love,

Erik"

I felt faint. I went into the drawing room and amused myself by watching Ginger hop around her pen. I fed her part of an apple as a treat, then held her to myself for comfort. She licked my fingertips when the apple was gone, and I smiled pitifully, pulling her closer to myself.

"Don't let Erik take you," I told her, kissing her soft head. "I need someone else here with me."

When Erik returned, his arms were laden with parcels, and he had three slips of paper from dress magazines.

"Pick which one you would like," he told me, starting to set the parcels on the floor at my feet.

I examined them. They were far from what I would have picked out. One was in the typical fashion, modest, with a large bustle. Another was more modern, with a more fitting design, though it was equally modest. The third seemed made of pure lace, and it had a ballgown shape.

I suppose I would still get to choose some things. But how could I pick which dress to wear, when all were the same to me? They all lead to my bondage to Erik.

"The lace one," I told him, picking one at random.

"My favorite was the lace, too." He said delightedly. "I will go order it for you after lunch, but first you should open your gifts!"

"Erik... can I open them later?"

"Why not now?"

"I'm a little tired... may I take a nap before lunch, then open them?"

"I suppose you may, if you are tired, my little Christine... But are you excited to open them?"

"I'm too tired to be at the moment... but I will be later."

He nodded, and asked to kiss my hand before I went to take a nap.

I denied him.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A reminder: Christine is a first-person narrator, so be skeptical of her. There is no reason to yet... but it might be a helpful hint for later.

And also, my intent was never to make it seem like Erik would let Christine starve. Had she not succumbed he would have not let her wither away and die; he loves her too much for that. He would have brought her food and water, probably along with more raving monologues about marriage.