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For your kidnapper to provide you your hormones was entirely unexpected.
Adisorn was always very sweet to you when you were friends online, but you had expected that all to vanish once he decided to kidnap you. You had anticipated him to extort you for money.. or torture you, or even assault you, because this was partially your fault and "be careful who you talk to online," y'know? But instead, here he was, drawing up your shot, and wiping the site on your thigh. A nd just how did he know to do the left thigh this time? Y ou did your right thigh last week. You chopped it up to a lucky guess, but found yourself wondering how he seemed so confident in doing this, as if he'd seen it a million times before. You never even told adisorn you were trans—not because you didn't trust him or anything like that, but because it just never came up. It didn't seem necessary to divulge that information, because it was never really relevant to your relationship. You had anticipated that if you ever did come out, he would accept you. But... doing your testosterone shot for you? That was unheard of. and just how did he know all of the steps to doing this? Maybe he was actually trans himself?—which would come as a surprise to you, as you had assumed Adisorn to be the most cisgender man ever. But looking back, you supposed a man who played star blitz, maining strawberry paws, couldn't be cis.. or maybe he was just knowledgeable on hormone therapy? Or did he have some other underlying reason for knowing? Could he know someone who was trans? You weren't sure.
Once he was done wiping down the site, he gently yet firmly pinched the fat of your thigh before pushing in the needle. It didn't hurt in the slightest. Not a drop of blood spilled from your thigh, either. sometimes when you did this yourself, you'd hit a superficial vein and some blood would dribble out. But when Adisorn did it, there wasn't even a drop. either he really knew his way around the veins in the thigh, or he was just lucky.
As he oh-so-carefully capped the syringe and shoved it in his pocket, you tried not to think about the fact that he was basically providing for you, not just with your hormones, but also food and a roof over your head. Not to mention, he didn't treat you like a traditional kidnapper and throw you in some dingy basement and tie you to a chair. He gave you your own room with a soft bed and a warm heater, kept changes of clothing for you in the closet and let you use the bathroom when you needed, albeit he kept a close eye on you when you were out of your room. It would all be so endearing if it wasn't for the fact that he was keeping you here against your will. You almost felt bad for clawing, kicking, and punching your absolute hardest to try and escape— keyword almost.
You wouldn't forget how he knocked you out and snatched you up after acting so sweetly towards you—stole you from the world and your family to keep you all to himself, all because he swore he "needed" you. You couldn't help but think it all could've gone so well if he wasn't a complete psychopath. You'll admit, you had a huge crush on the scarred man before all of this happened. If he just went about his so-called "love" in a normal way, maybe the two of you could have been happy together, but he ruined that. You couldn't forget—no, you wouldn't, even if that same man was here now, being so gentle and sweet and asking if you're okay as he goes out of his way to provide you with your hormones, even after he's robbed you of normalcy. So why is it that this feels so normal? — as if it's something he's done a thousand times before, cared for you and stroked your hair gently as he goes through the motions of affirming your identity with a little shot. Why do you find yourself struggling to lean away from his touch? Why does it pain you to see that solemn look on his face that he tries oh-so-hard to hide when you do?
As you're lost in your thoughts, you can't help but wonder out loud, "Why are you doing this for me?"
Adisorn looks up, seemingly a bit taken aback, before giving you a small smile, ever so lovingly replying, "Because I love you, doll. did I not make that clear yet?" He pets your hair and this time you don't pull away. You chip it up to your surprise at his words. Of course. That's definitely it. at first, your cheeks feel hot, but as your reminded of the lock on the door a few feet away from you, that happiness morphs into anger. "Then why do you keep me trapped here?" you spit out. His eyes widen before he sighs, like you asked him something so insane, so ludicrous. But then, he just smiles at you again, all warm and compassionate. "I need to keep you safe, prevent the world from hurting you. you're just too important, snowflake." He looks down and bites his lip, "I couldn't lose you." You didn't know how to respond, conflicted by all means. You sighed.
"I just.. want to go home."
"I'm sorry."
He rubs your back then, trying to soothe you, but you just find that his empty apologies make you angrier. You push him with all your might, catching him off guard and sending him tumbling back a bit with a small "oof," as he was off-balance from crouching on the balls of his feet. Jumping on top of him, you roughly try to reach for his pant pockets, searching for the key you knew he possessed. However, he recovered with wolfish reflexes, grabbing your torso harshly, before promptly throwing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. You punched and kicked at him, screaming and writhing, trying your damndest to escape. He threw you onto the bed, a bit harshly this time before quickly trudging back to the door. By the furrow in his brows, he was angry, but you could tell he was trying not to take it out on you, instead opting to clenching his fist so hard it looked like it would bleed. Too intimidated stunned at his outburst, you remained on the bed, unmoving, as he slammed the door behind him and left. But not without giving you a hard glare first.
You heard the sound of the door locking, leaving you in your makeshift cell once more. You felt a bit bad, seeing his face twisted with not only disdain, but hurt. You didn't know what to think of that. It was hard to sympathize with your kidnapper, but as it was your sweet online friend, who spent so many all-nighters with you, talked to you when you had no one else, played star blitz with you hours on end, you couldn't help but still crave his company, and now here you were. All alone again all because you thrashed and flailed endlessly. You wanted to cry. The only company you had was now gone, after oh-so-sweetly providing you with your hormones. He didn't have to do that. He could've left you to feel dysphoric and insecure, but he didn't. He opted to not only find a way to obtain testosterone for you, (how did he do that without a prescription?)but even gave you your shot. Who does that?
A small sob escaped your lips, before delving into full-blown cries. Hot, ugly tears rolled down your cheeks. Cries muffled behind the door, you weren't sure if he could even hear you. If he did, would he care? After how you acted? You weren't sure. You just wanted him to come back. You didn't want to be alone..
You just wanted your online friend back.