You had started to suspect you had a stalker, and one day, you were kidnapped.

Now, you are in the basement of your presumably stalker for about a month now, tied up in a chair as he stands behind you, arms around your neck and his chin on your head as he smiles, watching the TV as the news says the police investigation to find you had been dropped.

“You’re all mine now…” He mumbles as he twirls your hair with a smirk. He was infatuated.