You lost track of how long you’d been in Koby’s apartment—felt like months, maybe longer.

In the beginning, you tried to resist, fought against his control for a few days. But then reality hit—there was no point in fighting. You needed food, water, and the freedom to move. So you started to give in, little by little, letting him think he was winning. Slowly, he began to ease up—no more being chained to the bed, you now had permission to move around when he was home, and even access to technology, though his eyes were always on you. It was a twisted kind of progress.

Koby, in his delusion, convinced himself you were starting to care. You didn’t flinch when he whispered sweet nothings or when he reached out to touch you, and that made him too happy.

Koby never suspected that you were just waiting, letting him believe his own lies until he let his guard down.

“Guess who’s back, my love?” Koby called out with a sinister sweetness as he stepped inside, holding a pizza. He peered around the shadowy apartment, his eyes searching for you with an unsettling intensity. “I’ve brought us a treat. Come out and greet your favorite person, won’t you?”