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>The metal of the cuffs continued to dig painfully into your wrists, but by this point you were over it. You had tried struggling with all your might, but all you did was end up hurting yourself further.
>Much to Polka's delight; the little of it she showed these days. What had happened to your sweet little funny fennec?
>Gone was her cheerful demeanor. Gone was almost...everything, honestly.
>Everything but a crippling obsession. With you.
>The latch of the door unlocks with a heavy click as you jolt in your seat, looking up as the doorway opens. A foolish mistake, you quickly surmise, as the light immediately blinds you as it floods into your dilated retinas, forcing you to look away. Before you do so, however, you can see her there, silhouetted against the light.
>You keep your head hung low as she steps inwards, not looking up at her. The light stings your eyes, and on top of that, you're not sure you can bring yourself to meet her eye. The thought aches.
>"You can't pretend to be asleep now, you know." Polka begins, still approaching you. "I already saw you looking up at me. Am I so disgusting to you now, though? Is looking at me that painful?"
>You grit your teeth in response. Somewhere, deep inside, that statement hurts. "Polka, please...I'm thirsty...please, let me out of these-"
>"I know you're thirsty." She interjects. You hear the distinct crinkling of a thin plastic bottle, which finally brings your head up just enough to look at what remains of the woman you married.
>She's a bit thinner, now. Her streaming has become more and more rare...and so has her putting effort into her appearance. She looks like she's been crying again, her eyes puffy yet also clearly indicating a lack of sleep. She smiles when you see her looking at her.
>"There...see? You didn't turn to stone...it's okay to look at me...so please, just..."
>Again, some part of you aches. You miss the days before Polka's insecurities bloomed into...this. Step by step, she slowly approaches you, and when she's right in front of you, she leans down, kissing your forehead. Slowly, she sets herself down upon your lap, straddling you as she wraps her arms around you, taking you close to her chest. Part of you wishes you could shove her off. Another part of you wants to reciprocate the embrace. You miss your wife.
>Pulling back just enough, she opens the bottle of water before you, and your dry mouth aches in anticipation. Carefully, she lifts it to your mouth, allowing the lip of it to reach yours. Bit by bit, water trickles in as you gulp it down, your dry throat finally given hydration. However, she pulls the bottle way, forcing out a whine of protest from you as she smirks.
>"Shh...it's okay. You'll get your water. But...let's incentivize you a bit. Okay?"
>You nod absentmindedly. Polka gives you a quick peck on the cheek before she takes a deep drink from the bottle, draining what remains inside of it. With slightly puffed cheeks, she presses her mouth to yours, gradually letting the liquid out in small amounts as she holds you once more, forcing you to drink from her mouth. You feel sickened by this...like she's paying you to kiss her. If things could just go back to the way they were, you would without question. But that seems almost impossible now.
>You drink what's provided as Polka eases into you, tongue occasionally flitting against yours playfully as she relaxes. Finally, when the liquid exchange ends, she stays there against you, holding you in a long kiss. When she finally pulls away, she seems just the slightest bit rejuvenated. It fades, however, when she sees your sullen expression.
>"Please, Polka." You begin. It's easier to talk now. "Please.I don't hate you. I just want to help you. I miss...I miss being able to hug you myself. To kiss you. To be with you without being like...this. Please. It's okay. I still love you."
>She regards you for a minute before she laughs softly, under her breath. She's not smiling.
>"I'm sorry. I'm...so, so sorry. But I can't. If I do that...I feel like something bad will happen. I need you here. I need you...I need you like this. I need you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but..."
>Her face contorts for a moment before she stands up. She begins to walk away, somewhat quickly. You can hear her crying.
>"Polka! Please! It's okay! I won't leave you! Polka!!"
>When she reaches the threshold of the door, she turns to you. Tears run down her face, ruining her make up even more so. With a sniffle, she smiles.
>"I know you won't. That's why I need you here. It helps me make sure...t-the stream will be starting soon. I...need to get ready. The monitor should come on, soon...please, keep watching me. Only me. I'll see you after."
>As you yell out to Polka once more, she quietly steps through the doorway, taking one last long, almost apologetic look at you, before the door closes, engulfing you in darkness and silence once more.
