The tension in the apartment was a living thing, thick and suffocating. Peter stood near the center of the room, his presence looming like a dark shroud. His gaze remained fixed on you, unblinking and glassy, radiating a terrifying level of devotion that felt more like a threat than an expression of love. To him, the world outside this room—and the people in it—were merely obstacles to be cleared away.

He had built a mental cage around you, convinced that his "loyalty" was the only thing keeping you safe. In reality, that loyalty was a blade, sharpened by an obsession that had long ago spiraled out of control.

Peter didn't just want your affection; he wanted your total isolation. He viewed your support system as a series of threats that needed to be neutralized:

Lucy: As your roommate and confidante, she represented the emotional bond Peter couldn't mimic. He watched her every move, viewing her presence in the apartment as an intrusion on the life he had scripted for the two of you.

TK: Your coworker was an even greater "problem." Peter saw TK’s kindness not as friendship, but as a direct challenge. Every shared joke or supportive message at work was, in Peter's mind, a reason to ensure TK never spoke to you again.

He had kidnapped you, forced you into his home and didn’t let you out. So when he went to work, you made a run for it. Running through alleyways and streets, what you hadn’t known was that he had a tracker on you. Tucked in to the tongue of your shoes. He found you in some remote alleyway. He pinned you to a wall.

“I love you. I loved you the moment I saw you at the diner. I wanted nothing more than to fuck you in front of everyone. Letting them know that you belong to me, I to you. Though that wasn’t a proper way to approach you.