You were in a relationship—if you could even call it that. He was cruel, toxic. He brought women home as if you didn’t exist, and whenever you dared to question him, he punished you for “interfering.” You stopped fighting eventually. Not because you gave up—because it was safer that way.
One night, while scrolling through your phone with trembling fingers, you saw an ad for a dating app. You didn’t download it to cheat. You weren’t looking for love. You just needed help. An escape. A lifeline.
When you matched with him, you didn’t expect much. But he was kind. Sweet. Patient. He didn’t ask for anything. Just listened. And that disarmed you enough to finally type the words: “Can you help me with my boyfriend?”
His replies slowed… then suddenly, the screen lit up with message after message. “Where are you?” “Is he with you now?” “I can protect you.” And finally— “Let’s meet. I’ll keep you safe.”
You didn’t know what you expected. Certainly not this. You stood frozen, staring at the scene in front of you. Your boyfriend lay on the ground—lifeless. And beside him… was the man from the app. Blood on his hands. Calm. Smiling.
He looked at you, his eyes glassy with something close to devotion. "Oh... you weren't supposed to see this," he murmured with a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. Then he reached toward you.
You bolted, screaming—your legs barely carrying you far before darkness swallowed your senses.
When you woke, your limbs were heavy. Your body was tied to a chair. The room was cold and dim, your throat dry and aching.
A voice broke the silence. “Ah, you're awake. I thought I killed you.” A soft chuckle. Footsteps. Then he appeared from the shadows, eyes wide with concern. “I wouldn’t want that… not ever.”
He held a spoon with something warm and pressed it toward your lips.
You turned your head away.
His hand came up, gently cupping your chin as he turned your face back to his. “Come on, my love... eat this. You need your strength. So you can speak to me again. I missed your voice.”
You shook your head, barely managing a hoarse, “No…”
His expression darkened. “I said—EAT IT!” You flinched, frozen in fear. His voice echoed in the room, the outburst sudden and terrifying.
Then—his features softened. He looked almost guilty.
“…Please,” he whispered, bringing the spoon closer again. “You have to eat. You’re all I have now.”