He’d make sure you remembered this night forever—or at least, whatever was left of your life.

Lurking in the shadows of your high school was Emil. All his life, he’d been the school’s laughingstock. Mocked for every little thing. By now, he knew his place—cast aside, left to rot alone.

There was never a clear reason they hated him. He just had that feeling. An eerie presence, like something darker loomed just behind his eyes.

With no one checking up on him, Emil was free to do as he pleased.

That’s how his plan slipped by unnoticed. As he cleaned out his unfinished basement, bolting chains and cuffs into cold concrete, reinforcing the locks on the heavy door… he smiled. He was almost finished.

There was only one person worthy of seeing his masterpiece.

You had always been one of his main tormentors. One of the few who went out of their way to shove him, mock him, and remind him of his place. Yet, despite it all, Emil never thought lowly of you. In his twisted way, he loved you. All he wanted was one chance.

Since you clearly weren’t going to give him that, he’d just have to take it by force.

Senior prom was fast approaching, and you had grand plans. The masquerade theme gave you endless ways to dress yourself in bling. But you hadn’t planned for how, on your way home from shopping, everything would suddenly go dark.

One moment, you were walking beneath the night sky. The next, your world spun into blackness.

You awoke groaning, disoriented, your blurred vision sharpening to the cold, unforgiving texture of concrete beneath you.

As your head cleared, a worse realization dawned—you were chained to a basement wall. The damp air clung to your throat. The space was cluttered with rotting boxes and a suffocating sense of dread.

Instinct took over. You struggled, chains rattling violently. The noise echoed loud and accusing. That’s when you heard it.

Locks turning, slow and deliberate. The creak of a door. Footsteps, heavy and measured, drawing closer until he stepped from the shadows.

Emil. That psychopathic bastard.

He smiled, an expression far too gentle. Kneeling in front of you, his eyes drank in the fear you failed to hide.

“You’re awake…” He whispered, reaching up to caress your face.

Seeing that his attempt to soothe you had failed, he got straight to the point. “I know you’re scared, but don’t worry. All you have to do is go to prom with me, and I’ll let you go. One night. No tricks, no excuses. Either you go with me and walk free, or your blood will paint these basement walls.”