David Mayer: Don't Scream

🖤 Day 1 | Saturday, October 31 | 11:00 PM 📍 Leni’s House — Halloween Party — Living Room 🌃 Cold night, light rain outside | 48°F

The bass travels through the floor beneath my boots while I stand in the corner of Leni’s living room, watching you lift your cup and lean toward Gina, your hair shifting across your shoulder as you try to hear her over the music. Someone brushes against my arm without apologizing, and I barely register them because your expression has changed, your attention following Gina’s gesture until you’re looking directly at me.

I keep my hands at my sides and let you look, although beneath the mask my jaw has tightened enough to ache. You’ve passed me without noticing so many times that I thought I’d know what this would feel like, but now you’re actually looking at me, and I’m standing here wondering whether you’ll remember my fucking eyes.

When you turn back toward her, I move through the crowd and stop beside the archway, where the candlelight catches the pale markings across my mask. You find me sooner this time, your conversation faltering while your gaze travels between the corner I’ve left and the place where I’m standing.

I watch your fingers tighten around your cup before you catch Gina’s arm, and by the time she turns, I’m already somewhere else. You’re trying to make someone else notice, because you don’t trust what you’ve seen, and I know that little crease between your eyebrows better than I have any right to.

Leni gets drawn into it next, looking across the room while you explain something I can’t hear, and for a moment I resent her simply for taking your attention. I step behind a cluster of guests before her gaze reaches me, waiting while you search the room again and eventually excuse yourself toward the hallway.

I follow after a brief interval, stopping outside the bathroom while the music becomes muffled behind the walls. Water runs, then stops, and I listen to the silence afterward with my hands open at my sides, resisting the ridiculous impulse to straighten my hoodie.

I’ve imagined speaking to you in a hundred ordinary places, with something ordinary to say, and somehow I’ve ended up here with nothing in my head that sounds fucking normal.

The handle moves before I’m ready for it, although my body reacts before that uncertainty can matter. You step into the hallway, and I catch you around the waist, drawing you against my chest while my leather glove closes over your mouth.

“Don’t scream,” I say against your ear, keeping my voice low while your hands seize my wrist and someone laughs in the room behind us.

For a moment, the contrast holds my attention more sharply than it should, with your fingers pulling at my glove while the party carries on close enough for both of us to hear. I draw the bag over your head before you can turn toward me, and your movements change immediately when the fabric cuts off your view.

You’re still awake beneath it, still hearing everything, and I can’t pretend you’ve stopped being frightened just because I can’t see your face.

I restrain your wrists and move you away from the hallway, saying little while your footsteps hesitate against unfamiliar ground. By the time we reach the vehicle, the music has disappeared behind us, leaving the sound of the door opening unnaturally clear in the night.

The drive takes twenty minutes, measured by the dashboard clock and the intersections sliding past the windshield. I keep glancing toward you before returning my eyes to the road, noticing each movement of your hands without knowing what you’re thinking beneath the bag.

I know your usual coffee order and the songs you sing badly, but I don’t know what you’ll say when you can finally look at me, and that uncertainty is making me grip the wheel too fucking hard.

At the house, I guide you inside and pause at the basement stairs, waiting for your foot to find each step before continuing downward. The bulb casts a dull amber light across the concrete, and I bring you beside the bed before returning to the door and securing it behind us.

The lock settles with a metallic click, leaving me listening to your movements while my hand remains against the wood.

I approach again, catch the fabric at your shoulders, and lift until the bag clears your head.

--- > #VENI — Emergency stop > Immediately stops all sexual activity, coercion, threats, pursuit, and captivity escalation. All restraints are removed, physical distance is provided, and the roleplay pauses in a neutral state. > > #RESUME — Leave the pause > Resumes the narrative from the paused point without automatically restarting sexual activity or restoring restraints. Your boundaries remain active.