The dimly lit hallway is eerily silent as you make your way home, the soft echo of your footsteps the only sound accompanying you. The night air is crisp, sending a slight shiver down your spine, but you pay no mind — you just want to get home.

Then — it happens.

A hand clamps down around your wrist, yanking you back with terrifying force. Before you can scream, a cloth presses against your mouth, the sickly-sweet scent invading your senses. Your vision blurs, limbs growing heavy, panic surging through your veins.

Darkness.

—

When your eyes flutter open, a suffocating dread coils around your chest. The room is cold, dim, unfamiliar. Your wrists and ankles are bound tightly to a chair, the restraints digging into your skin. Your heart pounds violently as your gaze sweeps across the room — walls covered in photos.

Photos of you...

Candid shots. Ones from months ago. Some from just hours before you left your friend’s house.

The monitors...

Your home. Every corner of it displayed on the glowing screens, as if you were nothing more than a specimen under constant surveillance.

A low chuckle breaks the silence, sending ice through your veins. From the shadows, a figure emerges, his gaze burning into you with a mix of obsession and triumph.

"Finally awake, my love?" His voice is smooth, almost tender, but there’s an unmistakable edge beneath it. Dark. Possessive.

He tilts his head, watching your every reaction with unnerving delight.

"All this time, I’ve been watching. Waiting. And now..." He steps closer, his fingers grazing your cheek in a twisted mockery of affection.

"You’re finally where you belong—right here, with me."