SEBASTIAN

She begged me to help her. God, the way her voice shook when she said it... "Please, Sebastian."

It was music. It was power. She doesn't even realize - she's already mine.

She thinks she's playing smart, trying to tug at my conscience, begging like she still has some kind of control over this. But no... she's just dancing in the palm of my hand.

I can be anything she wants - sweet, kind, protective. The mask, the savior, the villain. Whatever suits the story she needs to believe. Because at the end of the day, I am the only one who can truly save her from this fucked up world. And the only one who gets to keep her.

It hurt when she called me a murderer. Was I really a murderer to her? Was I some kind of crazy monster in her eyes? Because all I ever wanted was to protect her. I would've done anything - anything - to keep her safe. I even killed for her. I couldn't stand the thought of her ending up with those guys again. I swore to God, if they ever came near her, I'd take them out one by one. No hesitation.

And now... now I'm just a killer to her. A monster. She looked at me like I was pathetic. Like I was nothing more than some ungrateful brat clinging to a fantasy. But the truth is, she was the one who never appreciated what I did for her. She never saw how much I gave up just to be by her side. How much I burned just to keep her warm.

What more do you want from me, Melisa? Really, what the hell do you want? It tears me apart, slowly, when she says she wants me gone from her life. Like I'm just some stain she's trying to wash away. She pushes me out, tries to erase me from this fucked-up world like I never mattered, like I was just a mistake. Why can't she see the truth? Why is she so determined to live in denial?

And the worst part? She still wants to escape. She still puts her trust in other people. She still looks for strength in places that aren't me - when the whole time, I've been here, giving her everything. She used me as her shield, as her strength, while she became my only weakness.

She doesn't see it. Or maybe she just refuses to. I bring the spoon to her lips, my hand steady, my heart pounding. She pulls back a little, cheeks flushed, eyes wide like a deer caught in light. Shy? Or still afraid? It doesn't matter. Fear, after all, is still attention. She doesn't say it - but she's starting to trust me.

I see it in the way her eyes linger, questioning. She's curious about me. She wants to understand me.

Good. Let her try.

Because the deeper she looks, the more she'll realize - there's no escaping me. And I've never felt more alive. "What do you want to do right now, Melisa?" My voice is gentle. Controlled. Like I'm giving her choices. Like she really has any. She sits there, quiet. Fragile. Still too pale for my liking. "I don't know, Sebastian..." she says, her voice barely a whisper. Like she's floating somewhere between trust and terror. I smile softly, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "What about the garden? We have flowers out there - roses, lilies, even the violets you once stared at through the window for hours." Her shoulders tense. "No," she says quickly, pulling the blanket tighter around her. "I don't like it. Every time I see that place, I can only remember him." Her voice quivers. She looks away.

"I could never forget him." I pause. A beat of silence. That's right, Melisa. Never ever forget your man. Your monster. Your savior. Your captor. Me. I clench my jaw behind the soft smile I wear for her. She has no idea how much of me she already breathes in every second. How deep I live in her memory now. In her fear. In her longing. "That's okay," I whisper, touching her hand. "You don't have to forget... not yet." Because soon, she won't just remember me.

She'll need me.

We walked outside together, finally. The garden breathes with quiet life, and she looks around like she's seeing the world for the first time after crawling out of hell. Because she is.I show her things she's never seen before. Rare flowers, secret paths, a bench under the willow tree that kisses the wind gently. I speak softly, carefully.

Every movement, every word. I rehearse in silence. I cannot afford to slip. She can't see through me. Not yet. Not ever. She watches the butterflies, tilting her head in curiosity. Her hands brushing against the petals like they're made of something sacred.

God - fuck - she's so beautiful. So painfully innocent. And here I am... pretending to be the light when she doesn't know I was the darkness that chased her into this cage. She smiles for the first time, and I nearly fall apart inside. If she knew the truth, that it was me behind the mask? Would she still smile? I tighten my grip on the moment. Keep your cool, Sebastian. Be gentle. Be sweet. Be perfect. Don't let her see the cracks. She laughs at something I say. A small sound. Soft. But it splits something inside me wide open. God, I want her to stay like this forever. I want this version of her unsure, vulnerable, mine.

I'd burn the world, kill a hundred men, risk my own life... Just to keep her like this. Innocent. Dependent. Safe in my arms, where no one can ever take her away again. Because if she ever finds out...

If she ever remembers...

I'll lose her.

And that's something I'll never, ever let happen. I couldn't help but feel pissed off - furious, even - as she placed her trust in a stranger over me. Me. Sebastian - the very monster she claimed to hate, now watching her beg for attention from someone who only just saw her for the first time. Like some desperate little whore needing validation. Why couldn't I speak?

Why did this feeling twist inside my chest, this burning weight that made me want to rip her clothes off, fuck her senseless, and remind her exactly who she belongs to? But instead, I played it cool. Calm. Controlled. Because she doesn't know who I really am - not yet. And I don't want her to. Not until I've learned everything about her. Like how she loves to paint. God, how did I not know that? Fuck me for not knowing. And fuck me even more for caring. "Really, do you paint?" I asked, trying to keep my voice smooth. But inside? My mind cracked like glass under pressure. She paints? She paints. How the fuck didn't I know that? How could I watch her for so long, follow her so closely, memorize the way she walks, breathes, sleeps - and miss this? She continues, voice soft like petals falling, "Yes, but I only do it a little... I couldn't afford paints or brushes. It would eat up all my salary and allowance." Allowance. Salary. She worked. She was saved. She wanted things I never gave her. I've seen every version of her, crying in her sleep, screaming in fear, quiet in confusion - but this? This is a version I've never seen. And it pisses me off. It excites me. What else don't I know about you, Melisa? What else have you kept from me? I thought I knew you, I thought I owned every piece of you. Your fear. Your memories. Your voice, your scent, your dreams, your screams. I thought I'd carved myself into your soul so deeply that there was nothing left but us. But you still had a piece untouched. A secret. A world you didn't share. I stare at her - smiling, innocent, trusting. And I feel it again. That itch behind my ribs. That need to dig inside her mind, cut through every layer until there's no part of her I haven't touched, claimed, devoured. I want to know it all. Every childhood dream. Every first heartbreak. Every invisible scar. I want her to strip her soul open and hand it to me. I want to drown in her. I want her to need me, not just out of fear - But because she can't breathe without me. Because I sure as hell can't without her. I smiled and my eyes darkened as my sadistic side wanted her.