He awakens slowly in darkness. His back is stiff, there's a crick in his neck, and his elbows and knees are aching. He tries to remember how he'd fallen into bed to feel this wretched. He stretches.
He freezes.
His eyes fly open. His arms are bound to the wall, so tightly his fingers feel numb. His legs are spread wide and tied to the bed. Evelyn towers over him, moonlight glinting off a pair of razor-sharp kitchen shears.
Dave screams.
"Now now, David." Evelyn flicks the switch, and warm rays wash over her pink pajamas and newly-blonde hair. Dave squints at it.
"You're blonde," he says, ridiculously, as if that were the pertinent observation at the moment.
"You like blondes, David?" She asks in her soft, cool voice, almost a whisper, the sound of it sending chills down Dave's spine. "I dyed it for you. Do you love me now?"
"How did you—I changed the locks—" he stutters, and she shakes her head at him.
"It's not hard to pick locks, you know," she says, smirking. "You changed your locks, and I changed my locks. Oh... you don't find that funny?"
"No!" Dave cries in dismay. "Let me go!" he adds, wincing at how futile the words sound, even to his own ears.
Evelyn ignores him. "You're probably wondering what I'll do with you."
"Yes, I admit I am," Dave growls.
"To shut you up in a sepulchre," she recites. "And so, all the night-tide, to lie down by your side. Well, I had hoped you'd come around on your own, but I'm sick of watching you whore around," she suddenly shrieks, her beautiful face pulling into a snarl. "I'm going to have you, and then I'll ruin you, and no one will ever have you again!"
She raises the shears and takes a furious swipe, and Dave cringes away, or as far as he can—but all that she does is grab a fistful of his hair. Carelessly, she snips all around his head, leaving his hair a jagged mess.
"That's better," she murmurs, bending down and pressing her lips against his tightly closed ones. He tries to turn away, only for his face to be pushed back at shear-point. The tip of it just barely presses into his cheek, and a thin trickle of blood trails down his face. She sighs against his unwilling lips.
Delicate fingers pull the pink pajama top over her head. She tugs on her pajama bottom, her hands lingering on her hips and thighs.
She lowers herself onto his trapped body, grimacing at the friction of his pajamas against her smooth skin. Mournfully, she sits straddling him, regarding the offending shirt coolly. A slash of the shears rends the shirt open. He screams as the blade catches on his skin, opening a shallow cut over his sternum.
She touches her finger to the wound running down his heaving chest; it comes away red and glistening.
Evelyn licks the blood away. "Now you'll always be a part of me," she says.
Satisfied, she sets down the shears.
Her hand tangles roughly in what's left of his hair, gripping and tugging at the roots. Her other hand swipes down his chest, leaving a smear of blood. She rubs her bloodied hand over her body, pinching and teasing. "David," she moans. "You love me," she murmurs.
"No," Dave protests, but Evelyn doesn't hear.
Her bloody hand snakes down, pushing between their bodies. Her breath quickens and her grip on his hair tightens. "You love me!" she gasps again.
"No!" Dave screams, desperate and horribly unable to break through. He watches, helpless, as she rocks, her breath coming in lovely whimpers. If he didn't act soon, she'll—she'll finish, and then she'll mangle him or mutilate him, and he'll bleed out. He has to keep her talking, keep her occupied.
There's only one thing he knows she'll hear.
"You're... beautiful," he tries.
She freezes, caught between wariness and delight. He has to act the part. He lets his eyes travel down her body, lingering on form and following the movement of her fingers.
"Go on," she says after a tenuous moment.
"I want to touch you." He pitches his voice low and smooth, conjuring lonely nights in his radio booth. "You're so beautiful. I want to kiss your shoulder and your neck—there!" Her fingers fly up to rub at the sensitive skin of her neck. Her eyes flutter closed, and she sighs softly. "I want to squeeze you," and she gasps at the sensation of it.
He throws all of himself into his performance, the most heartfelt speech he has ever given, on or off the airwaves. "I was a fool to ever give you up," he declares passionately. "You're perfect... the most exquisite beauty I'll ever see. I'll never look at another woman again. Oh Evelyn, I love you!"
He winces internally. Surely he's overdone it. But Evelyn smiles with delirious joy and says, "Oh David, you finally see! We will be so happy together. I love you. I really do."
"Please let me kiss you," Dave implores. "I want to kiss you so badly. Let me hold until you're crying my name—until you're helpless as a kitten, and I'm clinging to a cloud," he finishes, struck by inspiration.
"I'm too misty, and too much in love," she replies, and at long last, she unties him.
He reaches out with bruised wrists and gently holds her face in his hands. He leans closer.
"Kiss me, David, my love," she sighs.
His nails abruptly dig into her face. "You've stalked me for the last time," he growls, pinning her head under his arm. She's thrashing and shrieking in outrage, but unarmed; he ignores her and grabs for the phone.
The police are there soon after. "I never loved you!" Dave calls after her as she's led away in handcuffs. "Evelyn, by god! Please don't come back. You're nothing to me!"
Evelyn turns and catches his eye, her gaze cold and unrelenting. "I live with no other thought than to love and be loved by thee," she whispers with delusional certainty. "You don't really mean that, David. I know you."
