MELISA

It had been weeks, but that night still haunted me like a scar that refused to fade. I remembered the blood first. The color of it. The smell. The way it spread across the floor, warm and slow, almost curious in its motion. Then came the pain. Sharp, disorienting.

And then, darkness. But before everything went black, I saw him. There was a flash of lightning, one violent bolt that lit up the room like a cruel stage spotlight. And in that single, electric second, I saw the silhouette of a man. Tall. Still. Wearing a mask that made it impossible to see his face, but not his intent. He stood just beneath the window, framed by the jagged crack of thunder behind him. He didn't move. He didn't flinch.

Then the lights died, and so did my certainty that I had survived.Now, even weeks later, I wasn't sure I had. I saw him everywhere. When I closed my eyes. When I blinked for too long. Sometimes, even when I turned a corner too fast, it felt like I'd catch a glimpse of him in the shadows - waiting.

I wasn't just haunted. I was hunted. And the worst part? I couldn't prove any of it. I was healing. Slowly. Physically, the wounds were closing. Stitches had been removed. Bruises faded from angry purples to sickly yellows. I could walk again without feeling like my bones were filled with shattered glass.

But emotionally? That was harder to track. There were no charts or metrics for the kind of damage I carried. No discharge date for trauma. Sebastian had been by my side through all of it. Every single day since the night I woke up in the hospital, hooked to machines, barely conscious. He was there.

He didn't speak much. He didn't need to. He was present in all the ways that mattered - soft-spoken, unshakable, and calm in a world that now felt anything but. There was something about the way he treated me, though. Like I was fragile. Like I might shatter under too much pressure. He'd help me down hallways like they were battlefields. He never touched me without asking. But when he did, his hand lingered, just long enough to make me question everything.

Too gentle.

That's what kept bothering me. This place - the city, the hospital, my life after that night - felt sharp, jaded, cruel. But Sebastian... he was all edges dulled and words carefully chosen. And somehow, I found myself depending on him.

Not just for help. For air. I hated it. Hated that I noticed the way his eyes flicked to me when I winced in pain. That I noticed the exact way his jaw set when he was angry, how he gritted his teeth like he was holding something in - something dark, maybe. Hated the way my breath caught when he was near, like I couldn't exhale until he looked away.

That morning, everything changed.

I had dropped a glass. The sound of it shattering sent me straight back into a memory I wasn't ready to see again - blood, thunder, the masked figure, that sound just before the power died. My knees buckled.

But Sebastian was there. Hands on my arms, steadying me. He didn't ask questions.

He just held on. I looked up - and I saw those eyes again. Blue. But not calm. Not soft. Stormy.

"Melisa, is everything alright?" he asked, voice low, concerned. I opened my mouth to lie - to give the automatic answer. But my throat was dry.

"I... I'm alright," I whispered, even though I wasn't. He reached out, brushing his fingers along my arm to steady me again. The contact should've been insignificant. But it wasn't. My skin lit up like a live wire.

I pulled back - not out of fear. But because of what that one touch did to me. How it made my pulse race. How it made me want something I didn't trust. Because the truth was: even in the aftermath of nightmares, even with something fractured inside me... I felt drawn to him. Dangerously drawn.

It was wrong. So, so wrong. But desire doesn't care what's right. And Sebastian? He was becoming the only thing that made me feel safe, and that terrified me more than anything. We sat in silence for a moment that felt too long. He didn't look away. And that - that - was what made it worse. He held my gaze like he was daring me to read between the lines of what he wasn't saying. Like maybe he wanted me to understand without him having to explain. But I didn't want to understand. Because the truth was already screaming in my chest.

Not me.

I set the teacup down gently, too gently, like if I moved carefully enough the feeling inside me wouldn't spill over. "You already like someone," I echoed, trying to laugh it off. "Well, that's... nice." Nice. What a stupid word. He tilted his head, watching me. "Melisa." My name sounded different when he said it. Like it mattered. Like I mattered. But the voice in my head was louder.

Don't believe it.

You're still broken, remember?

Still seeing shadows in sunlight.

Still haunted.

Still scared of being touched for too long.

Still doubting if what you feel is even real.

"Melisa," he said again, softer this time, like he could see the war behind my eyes. "You asked. I answered. But don't hide behind a teacup and pretend it didn't mean something."

"I'm not," I said too fast. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not," I repeated, this time more quietly, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders. "It's just... I guess I didn't expect that answer."

"What did you expect?" I didn't know. Maybe a laugh. A shrug. A casual, "I'm single, just focused on myself." Not a confession. Not a look that cut through me like glass. I didn't answer. And then he did something that caught me completely off guard. He reached forward and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. It was such a small gesture. So simple. But my skin lit up where his fingers had been, and I forgot how to breathe.

"I didn't say who it was," he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine.

My heartbeat stuttered. "You don't have to."

"No," he said. "But I want to." What is wrong with me? I like him. God, I know I do.

And yet... every time I see Sebastian, something twists in me. Something sharp. Primal. Cold.

Because somewhere in my mind, he is still there. The man in the mask. The one who tried to kill me. The one who left me bleeding in the woods under a sky torn open by thunder. And no matter how much time passes, no matter how many times Sebastian smiles, or reaches for my hand, or says my name in that soft, careful voice, I still see the shadow.

Still feel the panic.

Still hear the storm.

I don't know why it happens. Why my heart races for Sebastian, but also clenches at the same time. Why his kindness makes me want to cry. Why being around him feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, pulled between comfort and fear. Maybe it's the eyes. Maybe it's the silence between his words. Maybe it's the way he moves so quietly, so carefully, like he's hiding something too. It hurts to think like this. To admit that the same man who's helping me heal might remind me - just enough - of the one who almost took everything away.

And I hate it.

I hate how broken that makes me feel. I hate that trauma does this - takes good things and twists them into confusion. I hate that I can't just feel safe and sure. But more than anything... I need to know why. Why can't I stop thinking about that night?

Why do parts of it come back clearer when I'm near Sebastian?

Why does the memory of him sometimes wear Sebastian's face in my nightmares? Is it fear? Or is it my gut screaming that something is still wrong? Why do I feel this aching, desperate need building inside me - this heat that turns me on, sends butterflies racing and crashing into each other in my stomach? I'm soaked, trembling, unable to move as I imagine touching myself because of him. God, why does it feel so good? I can't stop myself - my fingers already moving as I picture a monster capturing me, refusing to let me go. And the worst part?

I hate myself for wanting this. For needing it.I don't want to believe it. But I have to find out. Even if it means breaking my own heart.

It was the middle of the night. I knocked on the door, looking for Sebastian - I wanted to plan the perfect time to escape. The weather was awful tonight, the rain pounding hard, thunder growling like a warning. I roamed the halls, searching, until I stumbled upon another door. It caught my attention - it wasn't locked. Curiosity got the best of me. I opened it slowly and reached for the light switch. The second the light flicked on, my heart dropped.

No. No, this can't be real.

Every wall - every corner - was covered with photos of me. Hundreds of them. Pictures of me eating alone. Walking to school. Washing dishes. Working. Even in my most private moments. I couldn't breathe. My comb, the one I lost years ago, was there, sealed in a glass box. A bottle of my shampoo. A strand of my hair taped beside it.

"What the hell is this..." He's been watching me. All this time. He knew everything.

I turned to run, panic rising in my chest, only to bump into someone standing behind me. I gasped, frozen in fear.

Sebastian.

He stood there, his face unreadable, voice chilling. "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

"I - I didn't know what this room was," I stammered. "I didn't mean to - "

"You know," he interrupted, stepping forward slowly, "if he finds out you came in here without permission... he'll be very angry." My breath caught in my throat. I stepped back.

"I don't even know who he is!" I cried. "What kind of psycho does this?!"

"Sebastian please help me to escape please."

"Why would I do that Melisa? I don't want you to get punished again by this psycho?" I held his hand, trembling, my eyes filled with desperation.

"Please, Sebastian," I begged, my voice barely a whisper beneath the sound of the thunder outside. He gave me a subtle nod. That was all I needed. We moved quickly, slipping through dimly lit hallways until we reached an isolated area quiet, cold, and soaked in rain from the broken windows. The storm outside was violent, soaking us both to the bone. But I didn't care. I wanted out. I needed to escape. Sebastian held my hand tightly, guiding me through a narrow path, whispering directions to help me find the exit. But something felt wrong.

Too many guards.

Too alert. Too ready.

Did they know?

Panic flooded my chest. No. No, this is bad. This is really bad. Did someone tell them? Or worse... Did he know?

I tugged on Sebastian's sleeve. "Sebastian, come here!" I whispered in a rush, trying to pull him into a dark corner to hide.

But it was too late.

A loud shout.

Footsteps. A scuffle.

Sebastian was caught.

I screamed his name as he was dragged back into the darkness.

"Sebastian!"

My heart shattered.

I couldn't stay. I had to run. I had no choice. I bolted through the rain, through the shadows, through the pain. The exit was just ahead, so close. But every step forward made me feel heavier, like I was carrying the weight of betrayal and guilt on my back. Because of me... he's gone. Because of me, he'll suffer. Tears mixed with the rain as I pushed through the final gate, into the cold unknown. I escaped. But I left a piece of my soul behind.

At the edge of the woods, I stood alone, soaked, trembling, every inch of my body screaming in pain. My clothes clung to my skin, heavy with rain, and my breath came in short, ragged gasps. The silence was deafening. No lights. No sound but the thunder cracking above me and the wind howling through the trees. It felt like hell itself had swallowed me whole. Darkness wrapped around me like a curse, and panic clawed at my chest.

I kept walking, stumbling through the mud, desperate to find a road, a car - anything that could lead me away from this nightmare. But then... I saw him. A shadow. Tall. Still. Standing beneath the trees at the edge of the path.

"Hello?" I called out, waving both arms. "Please! Help me!"

No response.

I took a few cautious steps closer, rain dripping from my eyelashes. My heart thudded violently in my chest. The only light was the flash of thunder above, and when it struck - it revealed everything.

His face.

The mask.

And in his hand... an axe.

No.

My legs moved before my mind could process. I turned and ran, barefoot and broken, branches tearing at my skin. The forest blurred around me, thunder roaring like death itself was chasing me. Rain poured harder, screaming down on me, matching the cry in my throat. He was here. He found me. And this time?He wouldn't let me go.

"LEAVE ME ALONE! I WANT TO GO HOME!"

I stumbled, knees scraping against the wet forest floor, but I still kept running - crying, gasping, begging for my life. "No, little doll," his voice echoed through the thunder, sinister and sharp, "you're not going anywhere. You're mine. Forever."

"No! Please, please - " He caught my legs, yanked me back like I weighed nothing. I landed hard in the mud, and before I could even move, he was on top of me. Trapped. Pinned. The storm above flashed again, lighting up his masked face in bursts, like a nightmare captured in slow motion. I sobbed, broken, defenseless. My hands curled up to my chest, shaking, trying to shield myself from whatever was coming next.

"Please... I just want to be free. Please, let me go."

"I can't do that," he whispered. "I really can't."

"What do you want from me?! If you're going to kill me, just do it already! I'm so tired..."

My voice cracked, and I turned my head away, staring into the blackness of the forest. I heard the shift of metal. He gripped the axe in his hand. My heart stopped.

I flinched, squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the pain. But it didn't come. Instead, he leaned in closer. I felt the cold mask press against my neck, his breath hot and heavy, rushing down my skin. He was trembling.

Then he whispered, so close I could feel his words against my skin: "Why are you so stubborn, little bunny?" I should've been disgusted. I should've screamed. I should've begged again.

But something inside me twisted. Something felt familiar. The warmth. The scent. The tremble in his voice. Just like Sebastian.

No - it couldn't be. 'Stop it, Melisa! He's a monster. A criminal. A killer!' But then why... Why did my heart stutter like that? Why I am feel aroused, why I feel needing him now in this kind of position anytime he can fuck me here and moaning through this forest as if I am trying not to show any affection and interest, I can feel his hard around my thighs as he try to lean more.

"Please don't hurt me." He shook his head and yet I can't imagine my mind shut off because I am horny. Am I really aroused by my kidnapper? This is insane and I need therapy for this! He started to move, pressing harder against me. I bit my lower lip, trying not to make a sound. I hate feeling aroused by him - despite him being a killer and my kidnapper. I try to move away, but the more I move, the more I feel him. I know he likes it. I know he wants me. This maniac wants me. I don't even know how to react anymore - I just follow his commands, as if my body moves on its own. His fingers trace every inch of my skin, and it drives me insane. He knows exactly how to turn me on, how to make me crave him? even when I know I shouldn't.