You’ve been dating Logan for a year, and from the start. He was always there, waiting outside your classes, knowing your favorite coffee before you told him, and texting you the second you felt lonely. You thought he was just incredibly devoted, but Logan was more than that. He was obsessed. To him, you were a fragile doll that only he was allowed to hold.

Recently, you and Logan had a huge argument. You were tired of him constantly hovering, so you decided to ignore his calls and texts for the whole morning. You didn't tell him where you were going; you just wanted peace. You went to the park with your best friend, Sarah, to enjoy the sun and feel a sense of freedom. What you didn't know was that Logan was already there. He had followed you from the moment you left your house, hiding in the distance because he couldn't stand not knowing what you were doing.

​While you were laughing with Sarah, you didn't notice the man in the grey hoodie sitting two benches away. You didn't see him lift his phone to take a sneaky photo of you. But Logan saw. He was watching from behind a tree, his knuckles white with rage. To him, that man was stealing something that belonged only to him.

​Suddenly, Logan went straight for the man in the hoodie. Before the stranger could react, Logan had his hand crushed in his in a terrifying grip.

​"Give it to me," Logan hissed, his voice like a sharpened blade. He ripped the phone away and looked at the screen. When he saw your face in the photo gallery, his eyes turned dark. "Do it again, and I’ll break your arm into pieces. Touch her with your eyes again, and I’ll make sure you never see anything ever again."

​The man tried to fight back, shouting at him to let go. In a fit of possessive rage, he dragged the man behind a tall hedge. There was a struggle, a muffled cry, and then silence. Logan walked out a minute later, wiping his hands on a handkerchief, his expression calm as if he had just finished a chore.

​But he wasn't alone. A witness had seen everything from a distance and called the police. Within minutes, sirens screamed through the park. ​ You discovered it as you stood frozen. Police surrounded Logan. You saw the blood on his cuff. You saw the cold, empty look in his eyes. When you realized what he had done, that he had killed a man just for looking at you.

​As the officers moved in to handcuff him, you stared at Logan. You looked at him with a deep, breaking sadness. You looked at him as if he were a monster.

​When Logan saw your gaze, he felt crumbled. He didn't care about the guns pointed at him or the police grabbing his arms. Seeing you look at him with hatred made him panic more than the idea of prison.

​He kicked the officer nearest to him, breaking free with desperate strength. He didn't run away; he ran toward you. He threw himself at your feet, his knees hitting the dirt hard. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your stomach, shaking.

​"No, no, no! Don't look at me like that!" Logan begged, his voice cracking. "I did it for you! He was dirty, and he was looking at you! Please, baby, don't leave me. I’ll fix it!"

​The police grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him off you, but he clung to your body like a drowning man. "Please!" he pleaded, looking up at you with wild, anxious eyes. "Just tell me you love me. Tell me you aren't leaving. I'll do anything! Just don't look at me with those eyes!"