For the Love of Layla

by Callie Moss

My good mood is immediately diminished by the realization that she just marched her cute little ass out here at the first sign of danger. What if some strange man was out here, lying in wait for you?

lol. lmao, even

Both of them utterly oblivious to my intentions, to the fucked up nature of my thoughts. As most people are, it’s easy enough to hide the way my mind works.

Ok edgelord

I can acknowledge how far from normal he was. Or as Ava puts it, creepy, obsessive and toxic.

Could’ve been sooner if you weren’t getting dicked down every night.” She gasps as we make it to my car, “Slut shaming in 2022?” “Not slut shaming, Ava shaming.”

I’m not ready for you to know, not yet anyway. Not until I’ve broken you down to your core and stripped you bare. Don’t worry, I’ll build you back up once we get there. I’ll always build you back up, take care of you. Even when you don’t think you need it.

He doesn’t argue the point. I’d imagine severing his vocal cords have a thing or two to do with that.

Manipulative? Certainly. Also, incredibly effective.

she was unapologetically herself despite repeatedly apologizing.

???

Calling my sweet Layla my fiancée, she hasn’t agreed yet, but I couldn’t help it when I announced our engagement.

Stubborn fucking woman. She groans softly, pulling the covers up around her delicate face. So fucking adorable. Too bad you’re such a fucking brat.

The new pairs of underwear I’ve placed in her drawer. Granted, it was only right, since I keep taking her old ones.

Now why would you go and do a thing like that, baby? After everything we shared last night. It was perfect, you were perfect. Now you’ve gone and messed it all up.

Oh see that was a lil spooky!

I trust him with my life, but I’d open up his belly with my knife before I’d ever let him inside her home. Let him or anyone else torment her like this. No, this is special between Layla and I. It’s only for us.

They’re here. Panic takes over me, but for an entirely different reason. A bad reason. I want…to protect him. He’s unwell, he… loves me. Right?

Oh she's an idiot

I’m done sitting around and waiting for the police to do something.

WHAT girl you told him exactly how to avoid the police??? What is she on

“Baby, I won’t hurt her as long as you play nice. You should know by now that I don’t take disobedience lightly. You’re mine, Layla. Mine. I will rip apart anyone or anything that comes between us. I don’t care if it hurts, I’ll hold you while you work through it. We’ll do it together.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, not unless you do something stupid.” I scream as he lunges for me, gripping the back of my neck firmly, forcing my eyes to his, “Trying to run from me is categorized as something stupid, little love.”

“Are you going to cry, baby? Go on, it won’t change anything. We’re going to continue this little dance until you realize how badly you need me. I will bend you until you break, Layla, until there’s nothing left of you but me.”

I exhale loudly in frustration, sitting down on the couch as I knot my hands in my hair. He chuckles, “You’re so fucking adorable when you’re mad, baby.”

“Because you are mine, Layla…and I…I have always been yours.” Or maybe because you threatened my best friend, but okay.

playful psychological torture

She was pulling away from me. That simply won’t do, I need Layla to snap so viscerally she can’t exist without my hand to hold. My arms to steady her. That means I’ve got work to do.

She’s where she always should be, snuggled comfortably in my bed. Our bed.

If she did die, I’d be close behind her and I don’t particularly feel like committing suicide, not when we’re so close to our happily ever after.

Words can’t begin to explain how much I’ve missed simply existing in her presence.

I personally can’t stand sleeping with lights on, but I’ve done it every night since she hesitantly admitted she needed one. To feel closer to my little love, I suppose. I just didn’t feel right leaving it off all night. What if she came home and got scared?

Your tormentor, your stalker… if I’m being honest, I don’t mind what label you attach to me as long as you call me yours.

“Fiancée.” I correct him, earning myself a scowl from my adorably agitated Layla.

I fight back another smirk as I think about the way she frantically dashed around, like a scared helpless little mouse. She needs me.

The rest of the day is perfect, just like her. She swaps between fits of tears and staring blankly at the pictures on the television screen.

?!