MELISA

He finally has me, body, mind, and soul. I can't stop myself from getting aroused by his touch. It drives me insane. I'm starting to feel drawn to him, and I hate that. I know this isn't right. There's something wrong with me, some fracture in my mind - and maybe that's why I'm even capable of feeling this way toward him. At first, I loathed him. Everything about him made my skin crawl. But now... now he's trying. He says he wants to change. To be better. And part of me sees it, his efforts, his need to make things work between us.

He brings me flowers. He creates moments that almost feel like peace, except for the one thing he still won't give me: freedom. When we go out, the places are always empty. He makes sure of that. He wants me to shop peacefully, without anyone around. But deep down, I know the truth, he's afraid I'll run. I gather my things and return to his place, the home he's built for me. He gives me everything I could ask for - except a life of my own. Except the real world.

I just want to be normal. I want us to be normal. But he keeps trying to convince himself... and maybe, just maybe, he's trying to convince me, too.

While he was working in the garage, fixing something with his usual quiet intensity, I stood there watching him. The words sat heavy on my chest. I wanted to ask him about my grandmother. I wanted to visit her. Even if it was just at her funeral. At first, he didn't respond - like he hadn't even heard me. But I stepped closer, gently touched his arm, needing him to really see me. He paused and looked at me, his gaze locking onto mine.

"Please?" I whispered. "Let me go. I just... I miss my grandma." For a moment, I saw the hesitation in his eyes. That familiar resistance. But something in my plea must've reached him.

He gave a small, reluctant nod. A rush of relief flooded through me. I jumped with joy and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Finally, I got dressed, my heart light for the first time in a while. I was ready - for today, for her, and maybe even for a small taste of freedom.

Call me insane, but I don't know anymore. He's controlling - silent, intense, almost inhuman in how he avoids people. He rarely speaks to anyone, and when he does, it's brief and calculated. The ones around us? They don't talk either. They just watch - always behind me, always alert, like they're waiting to pounce if anyone even thinks about getting close. He's always near. Always.

Even when I go to the garage to grab something, he's right there. Even in the shower - we bathe together, as if it's a rule. Groceries? He clears the store. No people. Just us. And the thing is... I'm not planning to escape anymore. Somewhere along the line, I stopped fighting. I'm trying - really trying - to understand him. To love this little crazy man who's wrapped me in his world. Even when I'm cooking, there's never a moment he's not touching me. Brushing against my skin. Breathing me in. He's always sniffing my hair like it grounds him - like my scent is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

"Come on, Sebastian. Let's go," I said, brushing past him. "You're being so needy - always touching me." His expression shifted. "Why? You don't like it? You don't love me anymore?" His voice cracked, eyes glossing over with tears again.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling softly. "Come on. If I didn't love you, wouldn't you just keep chasing me?" In a flash, he grabbed my waist, pulling me against him - his body pressed close, his grip a little too tight. Here he is again, slipping into that aggressive side of his.

"Sebastian... that hurts," I gasped.

But somewhere deep inside, I hated how much I liked it. Why is he so dangerously attractive when he's mad?

"Say you love me, little bunny," he growled into my ear. I rolled my eyes again, lips twitching into a smirk. "I love you, Sebastian. Now can we go?" Without a word, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms and carried me outside, placing me gently into the sleek black leather seat of his BMW.

Why Sebastian? Why not someone else? Why am I not using this love as a way to escape - to fake it until I'm free? I know what you're thinking. I know there are so many questions I should be asking myself.

Maybe I am stupid.

Maybe I'm just another girl looking at a red flag, calling it a challenge. Saying, "I can fix him. I can change him." Okay - fine. Maybe that is me.

But? doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?

Maybe I need therapy.

I don't know anymore. He's needy, aggressive, possessive in ways that blur every line - But then he turns around and becomes this soft, obsessive man who puts me before himself, like I'm the only thing keeping him alive. The problem is... he doesn't understand boundaries. Or maybe he does - he just doesn't care. To him, I am his boundary. His beginning and his end. And somehow, despite everything, I let him in.

At the cemetery, I stood holding a bouquet of white lilies. Sebastian was unusually quiet today. But I didn't mind - he was always like that. As I stared at my grandmother's grave, a flood of memories rushed in. Her soft voice echoed in my mind, reminding me of the last thing she ever said to me: "Find a good man, someone who'll love you right." And now... here I was. With him. I glanced at Sebastian. What do I even say to my grandmother? Should I tell her he's my boyfriend? Is he even my boyfriend?

Are you fucking serious right now, Melisa?

He took your virginity. He locked you away. And now you're wondering if he's your boyfriend?

God. What am I even thinking?

I was pulled from my thoughts when Sebastian wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. His grip was tight, possessive - it made me uncomfortable. Especially here. We were at the cemetery, for God's sake. Of course, there was no one else around. Sebastian had made sure of that. He'd rented out the entire grounds, closing it off from the public - paranoid that I might run again.

"Please," I whispered, trying to gently push him away. "Can we just respect my grandmother, Sebastian?"

His voice was low and dangerous against my ear. "Why? Are you embarrassed for me to touch you like this? in front of her?" I was still struggling - still trying to understand this twisted connection between us.

"I told you to behave," I said quietly, more to myself than to him.

But he didn't listen.

Instead, he grabbed my hair, pulling me toward him, and kissed me roughly. His mouth devoured mine, breath stealing every inch of air from my lungs. It wasn't love - it was possession.

"Sebastian - please - stop!"

I gasped, trying to break free. And then, without thinking. I slapped him. Hard. Silence. My hand trembled. My eyes welled with tears. I couldn't hold back anymore.

I was furious, so furious. Not just because he ignored me, but because he disrespected her. Her grave. My only place of peace. Sebastian's gaze shifted. His eyes, once soft, darkened into something unreadable - feral. I turned, trying to move away, but he grabbed me and pushed me down and pressed me gently but firmly onto the edge of a nearby gravestone. My breath caught as he hovered over me, his hand wrapping around my neck, not enough to hurt me, but enough to remind me of the control he had.

"Do you know what you do to me, Melisa?" His voice was rough, filled with tension. "Even now? here? you make me insane. I want you so badly it burns. I want the living and the dead to witness who you belong to." My heart pounded in my chest. This wasn't just an obsession anymore - it felt like a ritual. Like he wanted to claim me here, in front of the ghosts of my past. Sebastian's touch trailed down my spine, slow and deliberate. His palm traveled from the curve of my back to the hem of my dress, grazing the backs of my thighs before slipping inward, possessive, intentional. I was wearing a simple white boho dress, short and light, with a V-neckline that dipped just enough. I hadn't bothered with a bra and I didn't need one, and Sebastian always said he loved that about me. He leaned in, pressing his lips to the base of my neck - my weakest spot. I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as his kisses deepened. My lips parted into a soft moan before I could stop it. His touch was slow, reverent - like he was worshipping me and consuming me all at once.

"Sebastian? please, s-stop?" I gasped, my voice trembling between restraint and want. His touch sent shockwaves through me. I hated how my body responded - how I couldn't stop the sounds spilling from my lips, how my breath hitched every time he whispered my name like it was sacred. And he loved it. He thrived on the way I said his name, on the way I trembled beneath his fingers, on the control he held over me like I was a string he could pull at any moment.

"That's it?" he murmured, voice low and ragged. "Say it. Let them all hear it. The dead, the living. I want them to know who you belong to." I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. But instead? I moaned. I hated that part of me. The part that was addicted to him. The part that bent - not just out of fear - but out of something else. Something darker.

"God, baby? you're mine," Sebastian growled against my skin, his voice thick with desire and obsession. "This body? your heart? your soul, it all belongs to me. You hear me, Melisa? Tell your grandmother who I am." He moved with possessive rhythm, every touch branding me, claiming me like I was his religion.

I bit my lip, tears mixing with sweat and heat as I turned my gaze toward the gravestone. My voice trembled, but I said it anyway. "Grandma?This is Sebastian Vale. My?my boyfriend." I swallowed hard, feeling the words settle into the cold air around us. "And I guess?I'll be Mrs. Vale." He let out a deep breath, almost like satisfaction, and wrapped his arms around me tighter. In that moment - between pain and pleasure, love and lunacy - I shattered.

It's been a while since that happened. After that, I feel like every time I see Sebastian, he's always around - even in the smallest details. I'm glad I can walk outside, shop, and enjoy myself now - it's actually getting better. But still, he keeps appearing. When I go to the mall, he's there? even when I'm picking out lingerie, which makes me blush, because I don't usually wear anything that sexy. Sebastian makes me feel like a whore in bed, and it's as if he can completely control my senses - especially when he gives me the space to uncover what I truly desire. I've had enough sex with him, honestly, almost all the time. My body gets sore. There were even moments when I had to rush to the doctor because I was bleeding - cervical bruises from too much of it.

"Sebastian? Come on, I already have a lot of lingerie. Besides, you keep ripping them off," I told him. He held my waist and whispered in my ear, "Because I love to see that naughty face, Melisa. I want to rip them off and see what's mine." I blushed and pushed him away playfully. He just smiled and kissed me. We ate at a cute caf� today. I'm honestly tired of all these expensive restaurants. He seems uncomfortable around people, and I chuckled, telling him he needs to get used to it. I'm helping him deal with his antisocial behavior. He held my hand - and I know he's trying. I keep reminding myself to help him stay focused.

"So, what's your favorite flavor?" I asked. He looked a bit confused. "I mean like? chocolates or strawberries?" I clarified. He smiled and giggled. "You look so cute when you get irritated." I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Strawberry, Melisa. What about you?" he asked, still looking at me while ordering ice cream.

"Well, I love Matcha," I said.

He looked at me, slightly disgusted.

"Isn't that? grass?" I felt a little hurt - not just because of the comment, but because he called it Matcha, a grass. "You're crazy. It's not grass," I muttered. I didn't know if he was just being silly or if he genuinely didn't like Matcha.

"Two Matcha, please," he told the cashier. My eyes widened.

"And also, waffles for my cute little girlfriend here," he added. My face turned red.

"But Sebastian? you don't like Matcha," I said as we were heading to our table, waiting for the food to arrive.

"I know," he replied. "But I'll take things you like, Melisa. If you like Matcha, then I must like Matcha too." What is wrong with this guy? After the day we had, we were heading home. We had so much fun - laughing together, still caught up in the joy of it all - until the car suddenly came to a halt, jolting us so hard we almost stumbled inside. I was terrified. Shocked. "What's going on?" I asked, my voice trembling. Sebastian held me tighter, protectively. "What is wrong, Andrew?!" he barked at the driver, his voice sharp with worry and rising aggression. Then we saw them - a group of people, all wearing masks, approaching the car.

"Sebastian? I'm scared," I whispered, my voice barely audible. They were getting closer. They had guns. The sound of glass shattering made me scream. I tried to pull away, but one of the masked men reached into the car and grabbed my arm aggressively, yanking me out. Sebastian reacted instantly - grabbing my other hand and wrapping an arm around my waist, trying to keep me close. He kicked the man holding me, fighting him off with everything he had.

"Melisa!!! No!!! Melisa!!!" His voice was the last thing I heard - screaming my name in panic and desperation. Then, I felt a sharp prick in my neck. My body went weak. Everything blurred. I was being dragged out of the car. The world was slipping away. And then, darkness. I couldn't see Sebastian anymore.I wanted to run, to escape - but I couldn't. I was helpless.