MELISA

I feel anxious - no, more than that. I feel on edge, like any second he might do something terrifying. After all, he kidnapped me. After everything I've been through... the trauma, the pain, the violence - I don't even know what hope is anymore.

And really, what makes me so special, anyway?

An orphan.

No parents.

No friends.

No one was waiting for me.

Invisible.

Forgettable.

Worthless.

I stare at the plate in front of me. Waffles. Golden. Crisped on the edges. Hazelnuts. My favorite. I haven't had waffles in years. One bite, and the memories flood back.

Sweetness and warmth, things I thought I'd forgotten how to feel. I didn't want to like it, hell, I told him it was disgusting, thinking maybe he'd hate me enough to let me go. But now... I'm crying. Silent tears. Not from fear this time, but from regret. Regret that I didn't finish the whole damn thing. It hurts to admit it... but I want more.

Even though I don't know if it was poisoned, or drugged, or just part of his plan to manipulate me, I'm still here. Still breathing. Still confused. I don't understand why this is happening. Why does he treat me like I'm something precious, when I feel like I'm not even real? And that name... the one the butler or assistant whispered quietly, Sebastian.

Is that who he is?

Sebastian...

Looking into his eyes feels like standing at the edge of the ocean, peaceful and calm on the surface... but underneath, a storm is raging.

There's something dark in him. Something burning. Why is he doing this to me? Why does someone who looks at me like I'm his whole world...

also make me feel like I'm trapped inside it? He says he loves me, but this isn't love.

It's a prison made of obsession.

Why does that name make my chest feel heavy?

The door creaked open again.

He's here. He's holding another tray, steady hands, calm steps, and for a moment, I freeze. My stomach tightens from hunger, but fear is stronger. It wraps around me like ice.

What if this time it's poisoned?

Maybe I made him mad enough to kill me?

My thoughts spiral, crashing into one another, louder than the sound of my heartbeat. I hate how weak I feel, how fragile and breakable I've become. He sees me. Our eyes lock. He doesn't speak right away. He just looks... and something in his expression is different this time. Not cold. Not cruel. Just, quiet. Like he's studying me, trying to understand something even I don't understand about myself. "Please," I whisper, my voice cracking, "let me go." He kneels, gently setting the tray beside the bed.

His presence should terrify me. But the way he moves is careful - almost reverent, like I'm made of glass he's afraid to shatter. "I made this for you," he says, his voice deep, husky... gentle. "It still has hazelnuts. I know you like them. But I added banana slices too. I thought... maybe you'd like that." Why do I feel this strange warmth in my chest? Why... does this moment feel so soft? Why does his voice sound like something safe when everything around me screams danger?

Who is he? And why is the part of me that should scream for help... suddenly silent? He picked up a slice of waffle with a fork and slowly held it out to me. For a moment, I froze, staring at it, unsure. My eyes flicked from the food to his face, trying to read him - searching for a crack in the mask, a sign that this wasn't some twisted trick.

What if it's poisoned?

What if he's just pretending to be kind?

But the scent was too real. Warm hazelnut, soft bananas, and a buttery sweetness that reached deep into my empty stomach. My mouth watered against my will. I hesitated... and then, slowly, I leaned forward and took a small bite.

It melted in my mouth.

Soft. Sweet. Familiar.

And suddenly I couldn't stop myself - I chewed and swallowed and then reached for another bite. My body was starving, but something in me ached deeper. Something I couldn't name. "Is it delicious?" he asked, his voice low and hopeful. I looked up, and before I could answer, my lips betrayed me and curved into the faintest smile. I nodded. He exhaled, almost shakily, and said, "I'm happy you like it." I blinked. Was he... crying? There was a shine in his eyes, and he quickly looked away as if ashamed to show it. His fingers trembled slightly as he set the fork down.

Why does he look like he's the one who's been waiting for salvation? And why do I feel like, for a fleeting second... I wasn't afraid? The room was full of silence, thick and fragile. The only sound was the soft clink of my fork against the porcelain plate as I ate, each bite slower than the last. I could feel his eyes on me - watching, not like a predator, but like someone who had been starving for something far beyond food. He was sitting just across, his hands folded, still. Just watching. "Melisa," his voice broke the quiet, gentle yet strangely firm. "Would you... like me to feed you?"

"No," I snapped, without even thinking. "I just want you to stay back." He didn't move, but his smile didn't fade either. That calm, unsettling calm. "Melisa, I'm happy to be here with you."

My eyes narrowed, fury bubbling in my throat. "Insane," I muttered. "I am not happy to be with you. You kidnapped me. You are keeping me here. You are not some savior - you're the nightmare."

"I swear I'm not going to hurt you," he said quickly, as if saying it faster would make it more believable. "I will try my best not to make you cry again. I will do anything for you, Melisa."

"Then let me go!" I shouted, slamming the fork down and staring straight into his eyes - challenging him. But he didn't flinch. No, he leaned forward slowly, almost trembling, not with fear... but desperation. "No," his voice broke, lower now, cracked with something darker. "No, I can't do that." His breathing quickened.

"If you leave me..." His hands curled into fists, his voice trembled with restraint, "I will lose my mind. I already feel it - I will get insane if you're not here with me, Melisa." I stepped back instinctively. "You don't love me," he whispered. "Not yet. But I can wait. I can be good. I can learn. Just don't leave. Please."

"You don't get to beg for love when you've stolen it," I spat. "That's not how this works." His eyes darkened. "Then I'll make it work," he said, voice colder now - deeper. "Even if it kills me." He's mad. Completely insane. This man doesn't even understand the meaning of compassion - no feelings, no empathy. Whatever he feels for me? it's not love. It's an obsession. He's so confused - he can't tell the difference between control and affection. And me? I don't even understand why, out of all the problems in the world, he had to come into my life. Why did he have to ruin everything? I can't even get my diploma now. I've been absent for so many days. I don't know if I even exist to anyone anymore. Do they care? Do they even notice I'm gone? I hope they do. I hope someone is out there trying to find me? Trying to bring me home. No I don't think they will know I am gone, now I have to work for myself and only myself will finish this lunatic mind games of this man, before. Before what Melisa? Fall in love with your kidnapper? Do I really like him? To be chased and being rough, choke and chain?