Emily’s POV

The first thing I felt when I woke up was cold.

Not just the physical chill of the empty room, but something deeper—a hollowness seeping into my bones.

I forced my eyes open. The walls were white. Empty. Sterile, like a hospital room without the comfort. There was nothing here. No bed, no windows, no furniture. Just me and the silence.

I pushed myself up, wincing at the sharp pain in my ankle. It was better than before, but still throbbed with each movement. I limped toward the door, pressing my hands against the smooth surface. Locked. Of course.

I exhaled, backing away and sinking to the floor.

I knew I had made a mistake. And now, he was going to punish me.

The memories crept in like a slow-moving fog. My old orphanage. The punishments. The beatings. How the caretakers struck us until we stopped crying, until we learned that pain was a part of survival.

I still had the scars. The proof that I was never meant for softness.

Would Alexander hit me too? Would he leave bruises on my skin as a reminder that I belonged to him?

Time passed—minutes, maybe hours. The silence was unbearable.

Then, finally, the door creaked open.

He stepped in, carrying a tray of food. My stomach twisted with hunger, but my body tensed.

"Crawl."

The word sent a violent shudder through me.

I wanted to say no. To fight. To scream.

But I didn’t.

Because I knew what defiance would cost me.

Swallowing my pride, I obeyed, dragging myself across the floor. My cheeks burned with humiliation, but his eyes never left me.

He watched me like I was something to be tamed.

After he left, I curled up in the corner, wrapping my arms around my knees. My mind spiraled. Girls my age were out partying, dating, living their lives.

But me? I was locked in a room, crawling for my captor.

And the worst part?

This wasn’t even the worst thing that had happened to me.

I drifted in and out of sleep, the silence swallowing me whole.

Then, a voice startled me awake. A man stood at the door, asking if I wanted anything. My lips parted before I even thought about it.

"Art supplies."

I don’t know why I said it. Maybe because drawing was the only thing that had ever given me peace.

I wasn’t just a medical student. I had dreams. I wanted to become a doctor, to save lives. But now, my life wasn’t even my own.

Still, when the supplies arrived, I clung to them like a lifeline. I needed something—anything—to keep my mind from unraveling.

Days blurred together. Or maybe it was just hours.

Time moved differently here, stretching like a never-ending nightmare.

Alexander only came twice to feed me. The rest of the time, I was alone, trapped in a prison with no walls—just silence and my own thoughts.

Then, on what I assumed was the third day, the door clicked open again.

Alexander stepped inside, holding a tray.

The scent hit me immediately. Tacos.

My stomach clenched painfully. I should hate him. I should resist.

But there was no fight left in me.

Call it Stockholm Syndrome. Call it weakness.

I called it survival.

His lips curled. "Someone’s hungry today. Hmm. Now, come here like a good girl and let me feed you."

I crawled.

The first time had been humiliating. This time… it was easier.

Maybe because I knew he liked it.

The way his eyes darkened as I kneeled at his feet, the way his breath hitched when I took the first bite from his hands—it made me feel something twisted. Something dangerous.

Wanted.

I hated myself for it.

After I finished, he patted my head like I was a pet.

"You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?" His voice was low, almost soothing. "Are you ready to go out now?"

My eyes snapped up to his. Out?

I nodded quickly. "What day is it?"

"Thursday, kotenok."

My stomach dropped. A whole week.

I had been locked away, crawling at his feet for a week.

I choked on a breath. "I’ve been here for seven days?"

Alexander smirked, tilting his head. "No, kotenok. You’ve only been here for a day."

What?

No. That wasn’t possible. I knew what I felt. I knew time had passed.

My skin turned ice cold.

"You drugged me."

"I did." His voice was casual. Unbothered.

The room spun.

He had been drugging my food. Keeping me weak.

A scream built in my throat, but before I could say anything, he leaned down.

"Now be my good girl, and I’ll take you out soon. Hmm?"

Then he left.

The door closed behind him, sealing me in again.

I barely had time to process the betrayal before everything went black.

I woke up to darkness.

My breathing hitched. No. No, no, no.

The lights. They were out.

Panic slammed into me. My body started shaking, a deep, uncontrollable tremor that spread through my limbs.

I knew what happened when the lights went out.

Pain. Beatings. Blood.

I can’t. I can’t.

My breathing turned ragged, too fast, too shallow. I clawed at my own arms, trying to ground myself, but the darkness pressed in, suffocating me.

Please. Please. Not like this.

The last time I had a panic attack this bad, I almost died. This time, I would.

I could feel my body shutting down. My vision blurred.

Then—footsteps.

The door slammed open.

A voice—deep, panicked, furious.

"Emily!"

Then, nothing.

I woke up in a different room.

Soft sheets. Dim lighting. An IV in my arm.

I was in Alexander’s bed.

I turned my head, feeling sluggish, my body heavy.

A soft bark made my chest tighten.

Storm.

My baby. My only friend in this nightmare.

I reached out weakly, my fingers brushing his fur. He whined, curling up beside me, warm and solid.

The nurse entered, helping me sit up, making me drink water. It felt like I had swallowed sand. My head pounded, my body ached. I felt… drugged. Again.

When the IV was removed, I was left alone. Just me and Storm.

But outside, voices murmured.

I forced myself up, still weak, but I had to know. Had to see.

I stepped out of the room. My clothes had been changed. A hoodie. Boxers. What the hell?

Then I saw her.

A girl. Standing beside Alexander. Laughing. Smirking.

I turned to a maid.

"Who is she?"

The maid barely glanced at me. "Boss’s future fiancée."

Everything inside me froze.

I had always known I was nothing to him. A possession. A plaything.

But hearing it? Seeing the woman meant to replace me?

It shattered something deep inside me.

I turned away, forcing myself back into my room.

Then I collapsed onto the bed.

And for the first time since this nightmare began—

I let myself break.

But I didn’t know then…

The worst was yet to come.

Author’s Note:

Well… things just took a dark turn (as if they weren’t dark already). Emily is slipping further into her twisted reality, and Alexander? Let’s just say, his obsession is only getting stronger.

Stockholm Syndrome? Trauma bonding? Or something even darker? You decide.

And that fiancée? Oh, she’s about to stir up some serious trouble.

What do you think is coming next? Drop your thoughts—I’d love to hear your theories!

Until next time, stay twisted.