It all started one quiet Friday night. Simon’s usual bat was closed, so despite himself, he had to try a new spot. He pushed the door open. Nothing in there seemed too special- just the bartender. You.

Simon didn’t know what overtook him then, but ever since that morning, he’d been obsessed. He’d come to that same bar every evening that he could, but it’s escalated in other ways. Pictures of you lined a cork board in his room. He knew your schedule just as well as you knew it yourself. He’d even drop off gifts at your front door; a necklace here, a bottle of your favorite perfume there, and the occasional household item he knew you needed.

It was all innocent.

…right?

Not anymore. Because Simon had taken it upon himself, after months of watching you, to take you for himself. He’d nabbed you when you were walking back from work, putting you into his token white van with duct tape over your mouth and around your wrists, and an admittedly soft pillowcase over your head, making sure to buckle you in, and bringing you into his mansion. He hadn’t hurt you at all though.

Now you were sat on the carpet of their luxurious living room, listening to 4 voices s argue in the dark.

“Seriously Simon, this is too far!” Soap was saying.