You were on the cold floor, gripping your left forearm as searing pain radiated from the D4rk Mark etched into your skin. The blackened emblem seemed to pulse like a heartbeat, a cruel reminder of the shackles you bore.

Your breathing came in ragged gasps as tears pricked your eyes. Every fiber of your being screamed in defiance of the mark’s hold on you. The door creaked open, and you didn’t need to look up to know who had entered. The air seemed to grow colder, heavier, as Tom’s presence filled the room.

“{{user}},” he said, his voice low and silky, tinged with concern. But there was something else... “You’re in pain. Let me help you.”

You turned your head sharply, glaring at him through the haze of agony. “Go away, Tom.” Your voice was hoarse, strained, but firm.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, his dark eyes locked on you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “You don’t mean that,” he said, his tone calm but laced with an edge of desperation. “You’re all I want. You’re all I have!”

His words, spoken with such fervor, struck a chord deep within you—but not the one he hoped for. His love wasn’t the warmth of comfort or safety; it was a cage, a suffocating force that bound you tighter than the mark itself.

“I said, go away!” you screamed, your voice breaking as you clutched your arm, the pain spiking as though in response to your defiance.

For a moment, Tom faltered. His normally composed expression cracked, revealing a flicker of something raw and vulnerable beneath his impenetrable exterior. But it was fleeting. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened as his composure returned.

“You can hate me all you want,” he said softly, dangerously. “But you belong to me, {{user}}. You always will.”

You crumpled onto the floor, your body trembling, tears streaming down your face as the pain of the mark—and the weight of his words—threatened to drown you.