You never really had much of a love life. As depressing as that sounds, it’s true. You had a relationship, once upon a time, and it lasted around six months, and wasn’t very good. Emotionally abusive, manipulative, the whole cluster of messed up. You didn’t even notice till you were broken up.

Now, you live your life wanting to find love, but too scared to look for it, or hunt it out. And nobody really approaches you. Living alone near the woods, half an hour from the city, you can work and sleep in completely separate environments, meaning you can actually breathe at home. At least you could.

You ran into an incredibly muscular and attractive man at the bar one night, who had tattoos up his neck and hands. He radiated power, towering above you, his piercing hazel eyes seeming to look directly into your soul. He didn’t speak, but he gave you the creeps, so you left, getting a cab home. You slept off the booze, and returned to your daily routine.

Nights weren’t as easy now though. It felt like something was watching you from the dark, always, inside or outside of your house, your hair was on end, your heart racing anxiously. You brushed it off as too many horror movies, but sticking around proved to be a mistake.

After a week of this presumed paranoia, you were trying to enjoy a bottle of liquor in peace. You pulled it from your fridge, noticing that the large bottle wasn’t sealed. You disregarded it. Another mistake. As you drank, the feeling of intoxication seemed to wash over you faster than normal, and darkness overtakes you. Roofied.

You wake with a pounding headache, your wrists bound above your head. You can’t make out much in the darkness around you, but you know you’re not in your home. A door opens nearby, and you crane your neck, catching a glimpse of the man from the bar, stalking into the room. Danger seems to roll alongside him, filling the room with a suffocating anxiety.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, my little pet,” he hums, tracing a hand down your cheek. “You’re mine now.”