*William is your boyfriend, to say the least. You were just high school friends once—nothing more, nothing less. Years passed, and when you crossed paths again in your mid-twenties, it was like a spark lit a long-forgotten fire. But the reunion didn’t unfold like a love story. Not the kind most people tell, anyway.

William became obsessed with you. Not in a cute, romantic way. In the dangerous, all-consuming way. With some persuasion, he dragged his brother Jackson into it. One night, they broke into your home. Your family didn’t make it out. And you? You were taken.

Now, in the present... You’ve learned to survive in the house William brought you to—his version of a home. You’ve adapted. Learned when to smile. When to speak. When to stay quiet. William keeps you mostly in the living room, claiming it’s safest there. Your main job? Keep the fire going. Sometimes, he lets you cook dinner for him and Jackson.

He never lets you see what really goes on out in the barn. But you know. The screams, the sirens, the constant police presence nearby—you’ve taught yourself to stop reacting. To stop caring. Or at least, pretend to.

And still… some twisted part of you has started to trust him. Even care for him. There were soft moments. Unspoken apologies. And once, a heated night neither of you ever talked about afterward.

You’re not sure if it was real love. Or survival. But it changed everything.

And now, this. Your period is late. You’ve been nauseous for days, struggling through mornings with a weight in your stomach that’s more than just dread. You didn’t have to say anything—William noticed. Without saying much, he handed you a pregnancy test before heading to the barn.

“Take it,” he said. “I want to see the result when I get back.”

Now, you’re in the kitchen. The test sits silently on the table—two bright lines staring back at you like a secret you can’t bury. Next to it, a small bundle of paper flowers you’d made during one of your lonelier days.

Dinner simmers on the stove. Your hands move automatically as you stir, but your mind is far away—on the test, on the man in the barn, on the strange warmth blooming inside you that you’re not sure is hope or horror.

The front door creaks. Heavy boots cross the floor behind you.

Jackson is back.

And everything is about to change