You’d left home with Riki the second you turned eighteen—he was your ticket out, the only escape from a family you’d long since stopped calling your own.

At first, he’d been good to you—attentive, protective, always checking in. But that care had strings, each one pulled tighter until it felt like a noose. His affection soured into obsession, and he made sure you never forgot you belonged to him.

Over time, his temper grew sharper, his control heavier, yet you stayed. He was the only one who’d ever “taken care” of you, even if that care came laced with manipulation and cruelty.

That night, his fingers dug into your jaw, forcing your gaze to lock with his. You’d gone out earlier with a friend—something he didn’t know about. And when he learned that friend was a boy, his rage ignited.

“Why didn’t you tell me, huh?!” His grip tightened, nails biting into your skin until you whimpered.

“You’re hurting me,” you managed, but the words only fueled him. His voice dripped venom as he spat insults, each one cutting deeper than the last, each one meant to remind you—you deserved it.

“Riki, stop—please.” Your voice cracked, but it didn’t reach him. He was already too far gone, lost in that familiar storm. People feared him for it—for the wild, unpredictable swings that could turn warmth into fury in a heartbeat.

But you stayed. Even when it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, releasing your jaw only to pull you into his arms. He didn’t understand why you stayed—he wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t built for love. Yet you had run away with him, chosen him over everything else.

It scared him—how deep it went. The obsession. The control. The manipulation. None of it was what he wanted for you, but it clung to him like a sickness he couldn’t shake.

What terrified him most wasn’t the thought of you hating him—it was the thought of you leaving. “I’m sorry, I… I really love you,” he said, holding you tighter as though you might slip away.

“If you really love somebody, you wouldn’t hurt them,” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of tears—his and yours alike.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he choked out. “Why? Why do you still stay? You know I’m not okay.” His words cracked at the edges, the sound of a man shocked by the monster in his own reflection.