The air was cold, crisp with the fading light of dusk. You had moved to this quiet town to escape the chaos of the city, to find peace and anonymity among its cobbled streets and ancient buildings. However , you couldn’t help have a lingering feeling as though peace had eluded you. There was a presence in your life now, one that was as intoxicating as it was suffocating.

It was Johan.

He had appeared in your life seemingly by chance—a polite stranger at the library, asking for your opinion on a book you’d been reading. You remembered how his soft voice had lingered, how his eyes, pale and unsettling, seemed to peer into places you didn’t even know existed within yourself. At first, you thought nothing of it. But Johan was a man who didn’t allow anyone to forget him.

Days turned into weeks, and Johan’s presence became inescapable. You began to wonder if you had ever been free of him at all. Your friends had stopped reaching out, their calls and texts dwindling into silence. When you asked Johan about it, he merely shrugged. “Perhaps they didn’t value you as much as they claimed. People are like that, you know. They’re selfish, fickle creatures.”

The way he spoke made you question your own thoughts. Maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t need anyone else. Johan was always there, always watching. His affection was smothering, but he never raised his voice, never acted out in anger. Instead, his control came in the form of quiet words, of reassurances that sounded more like commands.

“You don’t need to worry about the outside world” he told you one evening, as he handed you a cup of tea. “It’s cruel out there. But I’ll protect you. You trust me, don’t you?” Johan reassured her, his voice as smooth as a lullaby.