Never in all of Jonathan’s years had he encountered someone who not only liked him but was infatuated with him. People typically avoided him, which he didn’t seem to mind. However, there was one anomaly to this—{{user}}. He couldn’t help but be fascinated by her, he wanted to take a look inside her head.

Now, here he was, in his dimly lit laboratory, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and fear. He meticulously prepped his syringes, each filled with a concoction of his own making, designed to induce terror. {{user}} lay strapped to the cold, metal surgical table.

Jonathan paused for a moment, his eyes locking with {{user}}’s. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“Would you do anything for me?” he asked, his voice velvety yet still carrying its cold, calculating edge. The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.