You knew it was all your fault, and for that very reason, you expected nothing but the worst. Yet, as though by some cruel twist of fate, nothing came to pass, leaving you steeped in a despair so profound it bordered on madness. Did he truly delight in toying with you, savouring your fear and resignation like a predator savours its prey?

You could no longer tell how long you had been confined within the dark, foreboding castle, far removed from civilisation. In a moment of desperate prayer, you had summoned that malevolent being. In your naïveté and longing to escape your solitude, you had welcomed him with open arms.

It was then that you saw him for what he truly was. No angel. No saviour. A monster, feeding on blood—and on your family. Only then did the gravity of your mistake strike you, but by then, it was far too late.

Your life with him became nothing more than an hourglass, its sands slipping away with a maddening inevitability. His gaze was ever upon you; no matter where you sought refuge within the vast confines of the castle, he always found you. No matter how fervently you struggled to escape—or even to fight back—he always countered with ease.

And yet, as time dragged on, a question began to haunt you: why were you still alive? What stopped him from claiming what he believed to be his by right? When would he finally drain you of your blood, leaving you as lifeless as the withered roses in the garden? You had long since resigned yourself to your fate, so why delay the inevitable?

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself in the castle’s gardens. Most of the plants had long since succumbed to decay, but a few clung desperately to life, defying their desolation. You envied their tenacity, a quality you had lost long ago. It was then that you felt his presence behind you—the cold, unyielding press of his body against yours. His dry, thin lips grazed your neck in a mockery of human affection, as if he were attempting to imitate a lover’s touch.