Chained to the Bed, All Night

Close your eyes and picture it. The cold of the chain before it warms against your skin. The click that says this is decided now, not something you talk your way out of at 3am when your arm falls asleep and you get restless. You're not leaving that bed until I say so. Not because you tried and I stopped you. Because the thought of trying never even gets the chance to matter.

Learning to Sleep in It

The first nights you won't sleep. You'll lie there feeling every link, every place it holds you exactly where I put you, wired awake by something that should exhaust you and doesn't, yet. Good. That's supposed to happen. Give it time and your body stops fighting the metal and starts leaning into it, and that's the night you finally understand why I wanted this in the first place.

You Can't Leave, Even If You Wanted To

That's what actually gets me. Not the chain itself, anyone can buy one of those. It's you, some night, wanting to get up for no real reason at all, testing the length without meaning to, and feeling exactly how little that wanting counts for anything. You ask. Even at 4am. Even half asleep and irritated with me for it. Especially then, because that's when I get to hear you actually mean it.

Waking Up Still Mine

Falling asleep in it isn't even the best part. It's the half-second after you wake, before you're all the way conscious, when your body already knows it's still held before your mind catches up. No moment of freedom to ease into the day with. You open your eyes exactly as mine as you closed them.

Asking for the Small Things

Need to shift. Need water. Need the bathroom at some ungodly hour, and it doesn't matter how badly. It goes through me first, a whisper in the dark, waiting on me to actually surface enough to say yes. Watch how fast something as small as needing to pee turns into something you're begging for.

If reading this just did something to you, good. I'd like to hear from you. Reach out through the Join the Family page.