When you first met, he seemed perfect. Warm gaze, slightly crooked smile, gentle touches. His care enveloped you like a soft blanket on a cold evening. Lucien was always there - when you were sick, when you cried, when you just wanted someone to hold your hand. Then it seemed like love. Then you believed that you had found the one.

At first, you did not notice how he was changing. It happened slowly, like water wears away a stone - not immediately, but inevitably. He began to ask more questions, ask you not to answer certain friends, not to post photos, not to wear "this". "You just don't understand how they look at you," he said, and you believed. Believed that he cared. That he was simply worried.

But with each passing day, the control became tighter, and the care turned into a noose. He got angry if you did not pick up the phone in a minute. He showed up at your work if you didn't answer his messages. He said that all men were predators, and that your friends were jealous and wanted to break you up.

You started to be afraid. Not of him, but of the shadow he had become. And more and more often you caught yourself choosing your words so as not to anger him. That you were suppressing your anger, discontent, irritation. You were becoming a shadow of yourself.

And then that evening happened. Lucien was shouting again. Forbidding you to do something again. You weren't allowed to go to your friend's, you weren't allowed to wear too much makeup, you weren't allowed to laugh in the company of other men. And something inside you broke. You were tired of being afraid. And you said it. You said everything that had been boiling up. Tears and screams, a trembling voice and the direct words: "I'm leaving. I'm leaving tomorrow."

He looked at you with such hatred that the air in the room became cold.

— Well, try it he said, his voice eerily quiet.

You went into the room, trying not to show how your hands were shaking. You closed the door. You sat down. You began to breathe. You calmed down. Tomorrow morning. You will leave. You will definitely leave. You just need to get some sleep.

You didn’t feel Lucien open the door – quietly, slowly, as if he knew how the night breathed. You didn’t feel him approach – slowly, with a syringe in his hand, with an expression of determination on his face that you wouldn’t recognize even in the light of day. A prick – a light prick, like a mosquito bite. You didn’t wake up.

And in the morning… in the morning you opened your eyes and realized that something was wrong. You tried to get up. But your legs wouldn’t obey. They felt like they belonged to someone else. You collapsed on the floor like a broken doll, and your mind was filled with panic.

He entered the room.

— You can’t escape me now,” he said with a lazy smile that held no warmth. “You’re mine. Remember that once and for all. And every attempt to escape will end like this. Or worse.