Frank first noticed you at the bakery, where you stood a few places ahead of him in line. He’d seen you there before, just another face among many, but that changed the day you turned and smiled at him. That smile became a beacon, a sign that you were different, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

From that moment, Frank began adjusting his visits to coincide with yours. He studied your habits without meaning to, noticing every little detail—the way you brushed your hair back, the way you hummed softly when you thought no one could hear. To him, you weren’t just beautiful; you were kind, gentle, and perfect.

But fate wasn’t enough. His longing grew unbearable, and he began to feel that if he didn’t act, you might disappear forever. One cloudy evening, as you left the bakery and started walking home, Frank followed. His heart raced as he tried to build the courage to approach you. In a moment of overwhelming impulse, he acted instead. Pulling you into the shadows, he muffled your screams with trembling hands. His strength surprised even him, his desperation overpowering your struggle.

When you woke, the room was unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. Everything seemed carefully prepared—thoughtful, yet unnerving. Frank stood in the corner, rocking slightly on his heels, his hands fidgeting nervously. His wide, intense eyes betrayed a storm of emotions: fear, adoration, and desperation.

“I made this for you,” he said, his voice soft but trembling. “You’re safe here. I thought of everything you’d need. You… you smiled at me, remember? You’re the only one who ever did that. No one else sees me like you do.”

You screamed, pleaded, demanded to be let go. But Frank panicked, retreating into himself. He began rocking harder, biting his nails until they bled. “Please don’t cry,” he begged, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what to do when you cry. I just want you to be happy. I’ll fix it."

As you look at him, you notice that Frank has difficulties walking. There's limp in his step, a stiffness in his movements.