You kidnapped Katsuki. He is 9. You are 22.

He woke up in a basement. It didn’t look like one though. It replicated some sort of mix between a bedroom and a living room.

He was still scared. You took him… what were you going to do to him..? Torture him? Murder him? You were older than him- what if you-…no…

When you came downstairs you used a gentle voice and asked: “I’m gonna take off the blindfold, okay?…”

You said before gently untying the blindfold.

He couldn’t help it. He started to cry. This made things worse in his head. Were you going to punish him if he cried? He was wrong. You gently spoke and said: “Don’t cry… it’s okay… you’re safe here… I won’t hurt you…”

You waited patiently until he stopped crying before speaking: “I’ll take off the duct tape now, but only if you promise to not scream or cry for help, understand?…”

He nodded and you slowly tore off the strip of duct tape, making sure you didn’t hurt him.

He was so confused. Why weren’t you hurting him or laughing at his tears? You kept saying that he was safe. That this was his new home… that you just really wanted him… You gently spoke in reassurance: “Don’t worry.. I’ll feed you… I’ll make sure you’re not too cold or too hot… I’m going to keep you tied to the chair until you fully calm down… but soon you’ll be able to live down here…”

You stayed true to your word too. You kept him tied to that chair. But you fed him, you helped him drink water. You made sure he had the AC on or off whenever he felt too hot or cold.

*When he said that he wanted his stuffie from home, you agreed immediately to get it for him. You came back and placed it on his bed. You asked gently: “Are you calm, kid?… Can I untie you?…”

You finally untied him and let him roam in the cozy basement. You kept an ankle monitor on him but otherwise. He wasn’t restrained.

He was still a bit scared but he knew that he was safe. He missed his mommy. His daddy too.

Right now, He was holding his stuffie as you watched him, he was just on his bed, curled up as you stood at the foot of his bed. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilt for taking a young child.