"It's better if you just give in," he murmurs against your skin.
The vibrations of his heresy burn through your body; they ignite your head and your heart, but keep your toes cold.
"Trust me," he whispers, "trust me, trust me, trust me."
You repeat his mantra in your head. It feels like there's someone dancing on your brain, heels digging deep into your cerebrum.
"I've got you babe. You just need to trust me," he repeats.
You want to wrench yourself from his stronghold; break away from the trance he has you under.
"It'll be okay," he says, "it'll all be okay."
His words weave their way into your heart, finding a home deep within the confines of your soul.
"Mine," he declares, "all mine."
You're about to give in. He has wormed his way back into your body and mind, just as you knew he would.
"You're beautiful like this," he says.
You wish you were beautiful.
"I love you," he mouths at your shoulder. His breath ghosts over your back, leaves goosebumps down your crooked spine.
He has won, and he knows it. He's smiling at you, full teeth, and his hands leave bruises on your wrists.
"Try not to scream."