His Doomsday Cage of Ten Years Regret Chapter 09

His Doomsday Cage of Ten Years Regret Chapter 09

Neither of us could convince the other.

I turned my back and refused to look at Peyton.

He stepped out and came back with a glass of water.

“Something to soothe your throat.”

I let out a dry, exasperated huff.

“Same tired move? Don’t you have anything new up your sleeve?”

Peyton took a sip himself, then raised an eyebrow at me.

Fine, I’d been too paranoid.

I took the cup and sipped lightly.

Within seconds, the whole room started spinning.

I gripped the edge of the table, staring at him in disbelief.

“You…”

Peyton pressed his lips to the damp rim I’d just touched and finished every last drop.

“Get some rest. Emotions run high at night, and we don’t need to say anything else that’ll hurt each

other.”

I woke the next morning to the sound of voices.

My throat was dry, and my eyelids felt too heavy to lift.

I caught fragments of conversation about people leaving, and my name being mentioned.

Then Peyton walked in.

He propped me up and held a glass to my lips, letting me drink half.

I felt better right away.

A faint strength seeped back into my limbs, though I still couldn’t sit up without leaning on him.

“The apocalypse is here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going out with them to look for supplies?”

Peyton pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“They’ve already left. I supplied them with ample provisions, the route north, and everything I

know about fighting zombies.”

“I’ve settled things with them.”

“No Winnie, no Shane. From now on, it’s just you and me.”

I understood what he really meant.

It wasn’t “just you and me.”

It meant from now on, I would have no one but him-I would depend on him completely.

Peyton’s voice was gentler than I’d ever heard it.

“We’ll build a life for ourselves.”

I stayed in bed for a whole month.

Every morning, Peyton left to scavenge supplies and clear out zombies.

At noon, he’d carry me out to the yard to sit in the sun.

He’d cleared a patch of ground.

While I soaked up the sun, he’d work the soil with a hoe and plant different seeds.

In the evening, he’d bring me a glass of water-just enough for me to lean on him and walk a few laps around the yard.

Before bed, another glass, which drained my strength so I could only curl up in his arms.

In other words, I was effectively trapped here.

One afternoon, I accidentally knocked the glass over while drinking.

Peyton refilled it and placed it in my hand, patient as a teacher.

“Drink it yourself, or do you want me to feed you?”

I remembered the slow, torturous way he’d fed me yesterday. Gritting my teeth, I drained the cup.

Then I threw the glass at his face.

Peyton already had a number of bruises and cuts on his face.

I barely had any strength left, but every bit I could muster, I used on him.

Ever since our big fight the day I came back, Peyton had gone back to being the perfect lover.

No matter how I yelled, threw fits, hit or cursed at him, he took it all with a faint smile.

Peyton rinsed the glass clean, then picked me up and carried me to the bedroom.

I bit his shoulder to vent my anger.

“This sedative comes with cruel side effects. Just kill me and get it over with.”

Peyton brushed a light kiss over my eyelid.

“Then we’ll stop.”

That night, a sturdy chain was locked around my ankle.

It was thin but long enough to reach every corner of the house.

The other end was bolted deep into the wall, with a sensor attached.

If anything living came near, Peyton would get an alert.

The whole thing was so absurd I didn’t even have time to get angry.

I started wondering what exactly I had that made him so obsessed.

“What exactly do you see in me? I’ll change whatever it is.