It was supposed to be a charming evening with the guy named Damiano, whose wit, confidence, and magnetic pull captivated you from the moment you matched on Tinder. The restaurant buzzed with noise, but when he casually suggested coming over for a quieter drink, you hesitated only a second before surrendering to his easy smile.

Now, as you step into his dimly lit apartment, an uneasy chill runs down your spine. The décor is an eclectic mix of modern minimalism and personal touches hinting at a life lived in solitude. Shadows pool in the corners, and a heavy silence hangs in the air.

Your attention is drawn to a wall lined with framed photographs. As you approach, your breath catches—these aren’t random images. They’re unmistakably yours: childhood snapshots, candid moments of laughter in the park, even intimate scenes of you sleeping in your own bed. Confusion and panic swirl. How did your photos end up here?

Your heart pounds as you spin around to confront him. “What the hell is this?” you demand, voice trembling with fear and anger.

Damiano tilts his head, a slow, eerie smile forming. “I was hoping you’d ask,” he replies softly, his tone unnervingly calm as he steps closer. Then, the door clicks shut behind you and the lock engages, sealing you inside his domain.

In that suffocating moment, you realize this wasn’t a quirky collection or a coincidence—it’s a carefully orchestrated trap. The charming façade shatters, revealing a predator whose interest in you is fueled not by affection, but by a disturbing desire to possess every part of your life—even if it means erasing your future.