THE HUNT

Amelia

The first sensation that registered was the cold. The floor beneath me was damp, almost slick, chilling me to the bone as I tried to focus. I blinked, slowly piecing together shapes in the darkness, though it was impossible to make sense of my surroundings. A thick haze clung to my mind, muddling my thoughts and making my head throb with a slow, pulsing ache.

I tried to move, but something held my wrists and feet firmly in place. I tugged instinctively, feeling the bite of tape against my skin as I pulled, the rough texture grating against my wrists, each movement sharp and unforgiving. My breathing quickened as I tried to push away the dizzying panic creeping up my spine.

Where am I ?

The silence pressed down, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the faint, echoing drip of water somewhere nearby. Each drop felt like a reminder of how real this was—or at least how real it felt. I shuddered, closing my eyes tightly, willing myself to wake up.

Just a nightmare. It has to be.

But as I opened my eyes again, nothing had changed. The damp, stale air clung to my lungs, thick and suffocating. I shifted my weight, feeling the cold seeping through my clothes, making my limbs tremble involuntarily. This was different—more vivid than any nightmare I’d ever had. It was as if my senses were amplifying the horror, forcing me to feel every nerve-ending, every pulse of fear coursing through me.

I bit down hard, grounding myself, forcing myself to breathe steadily. I’d been trained to handle fear, to confront it head-on— but this ? This felt foreign, as if my mind and body had betrayed me, trapping me in this relentless fog of panic .

A faint scuff of footsteps reached my ears, drawing nearer, each step deliberate and measured. My heart hammered as I tried to make out the figure approaching in the shadows .

The footsteps grew louder, echoing against the walls, each step sending a jolt through my nerves. I strained to see through the darkness, my vision disoriented and blurred. My body tensed as I caught a faint silhouette—broad shoulders, an effortless gait. But it was the energy in the room that was unmistakable, a presence that seeped into the air like an icy mist.

“Millie…”

The word cut through the darkness, low and smooth, almost affectionate . My blood ran cold. I didn’t need to see his face to recognize that voice.

Damien .

The realization struck me like a wave of nausea. My instincts screamed for me to move, to run, but I was bound, helpless. I bit back a gasp as he took a step closer, the faint glint of something metallic catching the sparse light—a knife , perhaps, or maybe just a tool to make me squirm. Whatever it was, it was deliberate, chosen for effect, to remind me how out of control I was at this moment .

“Funny how dreams work, isn’t it?” he murmured, as if we were sharing a quiet conversation over coffee. His tone held a disturbing calm, laced with a twisted amusement that made my skin crawl. “One moment, you’re safe in your bed. The next, you’re… here .”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to let him see the fear rising in my throat. But he seemed to sense it anyway, his laugh low and dark. The sound wrapped around me, thick as smoke, making it hard to breathe. He moved closer, and though I couldn’t see his face, I could feel his breath just inches from mine, lingering in the space between us.

“What’s wrong, Amelia? You look… rattled.” His words dripped with satisfaction, savoring every bit of my discomfort. “And here I thought a psychologist like you would understand the power of the mind. How easily it blurs reality and illusion. How… fragile it all is.”

A sharp chill spread through me as he spoke, each word crawling beneath my skin. He was right. This nightmare was too vivid, too tangible, and my senses felt heightened, each flicker of darkness alive with dread. I tugged against the tape around my wrists, feeling it bite into my skin. I was trapped, completely at his mercy.

Damien’s hand brushed against my cheek, feather-light, and I flinched, the warmth of his touch cutting through the cold. I hated the way he seemed to linger there, as if savoring the shiver that ran through me. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he whispered, the softness of his voice somehow more menacing than anything else. “ Not yet .”

I clenched my jaw, forcing my voice to steady, “What do you want, Damien?” The question came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I waited for his response.

He chuckled, a slow, calculated sound that reverberated through the silence. “To understand you, Amelia. Completely.” His fingers traced down to my collarbone, a ghostly touch that seemed to linger long after he’d pulled away. “You fascinate me. More than you know.”

A gasp caught in my throat as two strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me to my feet. The grip was tight, firm, inescapable. I felt his chest pressed against my back, his steady heartbeat a chilling contrast to the chaos racing through my own veins. His breath was hot against my ear, too close , each exhale crawling across my skin and sending chills down my spine.

“Millie…” His voice was low, dark, like velvet brushing against steel. “Why do you shudder when I get close? What are you afraid of?”

I clenched my fists, feeling the tape still biting into my wrists, the reminder that I was trapped, at his mercy. I tried to twist away, but his grip tightened, fingers digging into my arms with a possessive force, holding me in place. The scent of leather and something sharper, more dangerous, filled my senses, overwhelming me, making it impossible to think clearly.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear in a way that made my stomach lurch with fear, and something else. “Tell me about your past, Millie,” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with a cruel curiosity. “What was it like? That precious, broken childhood you keep buried so deep.”

My heart pounded, each beat a frantic plea to wake up, to escape, but I was rooted there, paralyzed, his words slicing into me with surgical precision. He knew —he knew about the scars I’d hidden, the memories I never wanted to revisit. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay silent, to deny him the satisfaction.

But he didn’t stop. His fingers trailed up my arm, slow and deliberate, and I felt his mouth curve into a smile against my ear. “Did it hurt, Millie? Did it haunt you?”

His words slithered into my mind, scraping at the walls I’d so carefully built over the years. I felt the memories flicker, like ghosts, just at the edge of my vision, the flash of cold rooms, blurred faces, harsh voices—all the things I’d tried to bury. And he was pulling them out, one by one, exposing them, turning them over like toys to play with.

“What did you do to survive?” he murmured, his voice almost gentle, as if he cared, as if he understood. But I knew better. There was a dark thrill beneath his words, a hunger that fed off my silence, my helplessness.

“Shut up,” I managed to whisper, though my voice trembled, barely audible .

He chuckled, his hold tightening even further, making it clear that he had no intention of letting go. “Oh, Millie. It’s far too late to stop now.” His lips brushed against my neck, a feather-light touch that was somehow colder than the floor beneath me, colder than any nightmare I’d ever known.

The cold bite of metal brushed against my skin, sending an icy shiver up my spine as his knife traced down my arm, slow, deliberate. I could feel the edge of the blade, grazing along the length of my wrist, trailing down to the tape binding me. With a precise flick, the tape snapped, freeing my arms. My wrists burned, blood finally rushing back, but I dared not move. Every instinct screamed to stay still.

Then his hands moved down, brushing over my legs with an unsettling familiarity as he cut the tape around my ankles. I felt the rough fabric of my shirt graze my thighs, realizing with a sickening awareness that I was exposed, vulnerable. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a hammering echo in the silence.

His hands glided back up, his fingers brushing against my bare skin, and then he was there—right at my ear again, his breath hot and jagged. He lingered, letting the silence grow thick, feeding off my fear like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Run,” he whispered, his voice slithering into my mind. “Run like you did back then. You remember, don’t you? Running, desperate, with nowhere to go.”

I felt the words seep into me, dragging memories to the surface I’d tried so hard to bury. My legs trembled, frozen with fear, but I knew what he was asking. He wanted me to relive it, to play the game he’d crafted in his twisted mind.

“If I catch you…” His voice trailed off, leaving a chilling promise lingering in the air. “Well, we both know there will be consequences .”

My breath caught as the room seemed to close in around me. His presence loomed, dark and overpowering, filling every inch of space, leaving no room for escape. I forced myself to swallow, my mind racing as I took a shaky step forward, feeling the cold floor beneath my bare feet. The urge to flee surged through me, primal, instinctive .

But I knew he was waiting, watching, feeding off every second of my hesitation. The darkness seemed alive, thick and suffocating, and somewhere behind me, I could almost feel his gaze piercing into my back.

I stumbled forward, my bare feet slapping against the wet, icy floor, the sound echoing in the darkness. The room seemed endless, stretching into blackness that swallowed me whole. My head was spinning, and each step felt heavier, as though the weight of the nightmare was pressing down, making it harder to breathe, to think, to run. My legs were shaking, muscles aching as I pushed forward, desperate to escape, yet barely able to keep myself upright.

A few steps in, my foot slipped on the slick floor, and I went down, my knees crashing into the concrete. A shudder ran through me as I realized he was still there—still watching, still waiting.

Behind me, I could hear him. His footsteps were slow, calculated, a haunting rhythm that echoed in the silence. He didn’t hurry; he knew I was his to find, whenever he chose. The deliberate pace, each step punctuated by a pause, filled the air with a sickening dread that twisted in my chest. He wanted me to feel the inevitability of his approach.

I scrambled to my feet, every nerve screaming as I forced myself forward, slipping again, barely able to keep my balance. My vision was blurry, my pulse thundering in my ears. I didn’t dare look back, but I could feel his presence growing, each of his measured steps a reminder that he was closing in, slowly tightening the noose.

I tripped again, my body crashing to the ground, my hands scraping against the rough concrete. I stifled a cry, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. I forced myself to look up, my gaze frantically searching for any sign of a door, a way out, a sliver of light— anything . But all I saw was darkness, the silence closing in around me, broken only by his footsteps growing closer, louder, unrelenting.

He was toying with me, enjoying the chase. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, my chest heaving as I struggled to push down the rising panic. I tried to push myself up, but my legs buckled under me, and I collapsed again, feeling utterly trapped .

Then I heard his voice, soft but terrifyingly close. “Tired already, Millie?”

The words twisted in the dark, mocking, dripping with satisfaction. I felt a sob rising in my throat as I forced myself to move, crawling now, desperately trying to put any distance between us. But I knew, deep down, that he was right behind me, every step a reminder that he was closing in, that escape was nothing more than a cruel illusion.

My head spun as I clawed at the ground, my hands slipping across the damp concrete. Each pulse of pain through my body blurred the line between nightmare and reality, and my vision wavered, every detail twisting in the darkness. I knew he was still behind me. I could feel his presence, like a weight pressing down on my chest, stealing the air from my lungs.

“Tell me, Millie,” his voice slithered through the silence, low and chillingly soft. “What happened back then?”

The words curled around me, taunting, pulling at the edges of memories I’d buried, memories I never wanted to resurface. I swallowed back a sob, forcing myself forward, inch by inch, too weak to stand, too desperate to stop. The floor was slick and cold beneath me, numbing my skin as I crawled.

“What was it like, running back then?” he murmured, his footsteps slow and deliberate, echoing through the dark. “Did you feel this same panic? Did you think you could escape?”

My heart raced as I choked down the terror building in my chest, the past clawing its way up, threatening to consume me. His voice was too close, so close I could almost feel the chill of his breath as he closed in. I pushed myself harder, my fingers digging into the cold concrete.

“Did you scream ?” His voice was a whisper now, a sinister caress that sent chills down my spine. “Did you beg for them to stop?”

Tears burned in my eyes as I crawled faster, each word twisting the knife deeper.

“Come on, Millie,” he coaxed, his tone almost gentle, mocking. “Tell me what happened. Let me hear it. ”

My breaths came in ragged gasps, each one more shallow than the last. His words were relentless, digging into old wounds, ripping them open one by one. And as he continued his haunting questions, that slow, torturous chase through the dark, the walls began to close in.

Damien’s footsteps stayed steady behind me, unhurried. He wasn’t trying to catch me — not yet. He wanted me to keep going, wanted me to feel the desperation tightening in my chest with every inch I managed to put between us.

I swallowed hard, willing myself not to break, but his words sank deeper, poking at the fractures inside me.

“Tell me, Amelia.” His voice was low, chillingly calm. “Did you try to fight back then? Or did you just… accept it?”

I bit back a scream, pressing my lips together so tightly it hurt. I wanted to scream, to push his voice out of my head. But I knew it wouldn’t stop him. He was relentless, merciless, as he took apart each wall I had spent years building. I pushed myself harder, my fingers slipping against the wet concrete as I struggled to gain ground, even if it was just an inch. Just something to keep me moving forward, away from him .

He was close enough now that I could feel the air shift as he bent down, his presence suffocating. His hand reached out, tracing along my shoulder, his fingers cold against my skin.

“Come on, Millie,” he whispered, leaning close to my ear. “I saw it in your eyes — you remember . Every bit of it, don’t you?”

My body went rigid, my heart racing, the memories flaring up with painful clarity. I pressed my hands against my temples, as if I could force them away, as if I could make myself forget. But his words burrowed deeper, forcing every image, every sound, every scream back to the surface.

“Keep going,” he urged, his voice sharp, as though he was feeding off my fear, pulling strength from my pain. “Run, Amelia. Like you did back then.”

I forced myself forward, my limbs heavy, the darkness pressing down on me. My pulse thudded in my ears, drowning out every other sound but his relentless footsteps. Every part of me wanted to collapse, but I didn’t dare stop .

And as I dragged myself forward, his voice lingered, taunting, unraveling the truth I’d tried so hard to bury.

“Run, Amelia. Run .”

With every ounce of willpower, I pushed myself off the ground, my legs shaking as I fought to stand upright. I couldn’t let him see me weak. Not now. I had to run. I had to escape .

As I staggered forward, I forced my feet to move faster, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. The darkness swallowed me, but I couldn’t focus on the fear clawing at my throat. I had to break free. Just a little further, and maybe I would find a way out of this nightmare.

But then, the footsteps behind me fell silent. An unsettling stillness enveloped the space, wrapping around me like a thick fog. I glanced over my shoulder, but the shadows offered no answers, only deeper darkness. The absence of sound was more terrifying than his pursuit.

I quickened my pace, the adrenaline surging through me, urging me onward. But it was a false sense of security, and I knew it. My heart raced faster than my feet could carry me .

Before I could react, I slipped, tumbling forward, and the hard floor met me with a jarring thud. My breath escaped in a harsh gasp as I landed at his feet, the wetness soaking through my shirt. Panic surged through me, every instinct screaming to scramble away, to get up and run. But I was trapped, immobilized by the sheer shock of my fall.

I lay there for a moment, my mind racing, the dread clawing at my insides. I could feel his presence looming over me, the air thick with tension.

“Well, well, Millie,” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. “You really thought you could get away?”

I struggled to push myself up, but the weight of my fear pressed down on me. I could hear his breathing, slow and measured, like a predator savoring the moment before the final strike.

“Did you think you’d escape the past?” he continued, leaning closer, his shadow swallowing me whole. “You can run, but you can’t hide from what you are. ”

Before I could muster the strength to crawl away, I felt his arms wrap around my waist. Panic surged through me as he hoisted me off the ground and tossed me effortlessly over his shoulder. I gasped, the shock of being lifted like a rag doll sending a jolt of panic through my body.

“Damien, no!” I cried, struggling against him, my fists pounding against his back, but it was futile. He was as solid as stone, his grip unyielding. As he carried me deeper into the darkness, he began to hum a haunting melody, the sound echoing off the damp walls and reverberating in my mind. The tune was unsettlingly cheerful, a cruel juxtaposition to the horror of my situation.

“ Shh, shh ,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, like a twisted lullaby meant to calm a frightened child. “You should have run faster, Millie. You know what I said. If I caught you, there would be consequences.”

I felt the dampness of the floor seep into my shirt as we moved through the darkness. Every step he took felt deliberate, each one bringing me deeper into his twisted world. I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to succumb to despair, focusing instead on the faint sounds around me—drips of water, distant echoes, and his steady heartbeat against my skin.

He hummed a melody. A haunting tune that seemed to wrap around me like a noose.

As he set me down onto a cold, hard chair, I felt the chilling metal bite into my skin. My heart raced, the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears drowning out the echoes of the empty space around us.

Before I could react, I felt his hands grip the hem of my shirt. “What are you doing?” I gasped, my voice trembling. The darkness loomed around us, wrapping us in its suffocating embrace. I couldn’t see his face, but I could sense the predatory glee in his movements.

“Just making you more comfortable, Amelia,” he replied smoothly, the low timbre of his voice sending chills down my spine. I don’t know why but, I didn’t resist.. I felt the fabric pull over my head, leaving me vulnerable, the cool air brushing against my skin.

The belt he fastened around my waist and arms was thick and unyielding, a leather strap that secured me firmly to the chair. The pressure was tight, making it hard to breathe.

“Now, isn’t that better?” he murmured, stepping back as I squirmed against the chair, testing the restraints, but it was futile. The more I moved, the more I felt the leather dig into my skin. “We can’t have you running away again, can we? You and I have so much to talk about.”

I strained my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of his silhouette, but he remained a shadow, just out of reach. I could hear his breathing, steady and calm, a stark contrast to the storm raging within me.

He stepped closer, the shadows swallowing him as he leaned in, his presence looming over me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and I instinctively recoiled, pressing my back against the chair. The sense of helplessness crashed over me like a tidal wave, and I realized I was completely at his mercy.

As I sat there, bound to the chair, a chaotic mix of fear and something unsettlingly twisted churned within me. The cold leather dug into my skin, a constant reminder of my vulnerability, yet somewhere deep in my mind, a dark curiosity flared. It was an unwanted reaction, something I couldn’t comprehend—an instinct that screamed to fight back, but another part of me… craved this danger.

I could hear Damien’s breath, steady and deliberate. “You’re scared,” he whispered, his voice smooth as silk yet laced with a dark thrill. “But there’s something else beneath that fear, isn’t there? A little spark that flickers with excitement ?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I tried to muster an answer. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, a shameful warmth that betrayed me. How could I be reacting this way? I hated myself for even considering the thrill of the chase he represented, for the way my heart raced not just from terror but from an inexplicable allure.

I clenched my fists trying to push the conflicting feelings away, but the more I struggled, the more I felt that twisted pull towards him. It was as if a part of me recognized this dark dance we were engaged in.

“I see you, Millie. I see how your body responds, how your breath quickens. You think you can hide it from me, but I’m not just any man. I know the depths of darkness, and I can sense the thrill of the unknown dancing in you.”

My breath hitched as I felt him inch closer, the heat radiating from him like a fire.

“Look at you,” he whispered, leaning down until his face was just inches from mine. “You like the danger, the unpredictability. You’re drawn to it.”

I felt the truth of his words lodged deep in my gut, like a festering wound I couldn’t quite address .

“Don’t deny it. Embrace it,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “This is where you truly belong. The thrill of the hunt, the game of power—it’s exhilarating, isn’t it?”

In the suffocating darkness, I was torn. His words wrapped around me like a web, pulling me deeper into this twisted fantasy he had created. I fought against the feelings that clawed at my mind, but every moment he lingered there, every low word he uttered, deepened the fear and the unsettling heat building between my legs.

His fingers brushed against my shoulder, a light touch that sent a jolt through me, igniting that dark curiosity further. I hated the way I reacted, how my body betrayed me, and how I found myself trapped between the urge to flee and the terrifying allure of what he represented.

As his fingers grazed my skin, a shiver of anticipation and dread coursed through me. I was utterly bound, both by the leather strap holding me to the chair and by the intoxicating pull he had over me. My heart raced, caught in a chaotic dance of fear and excitement as his hand continued to explore .

“Tell me, Millie,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “what do you feel right now?”

I tried to focus, to wrestle control over the emotions swirling within me. “I feel… trapped,” I managed to say, though my voice wavered, betraying my inner turmoil.

“Trapped?” He chuckled softly, as if savoring the word. “Or liberated ? There’s freedom in surrendering to fear, you know. It opens up a world of possibilities.”

His fingers caressed my nipples, trailing along my exposed chest, teasing my skin with a mix of warmth and cold that made my breath hitch. I hated how my body responded to him, how the fear intertwined with a thrill that sent conflicting signals through my mind.

I felt his hand glide up my side, fingers brushing against my skin, igniting every nerve ending. The sensation was a dangerous mix of pleasure and pain, and I fought against the urge to lean into his touch, to give in to the sickening thrill that wrapped around me.

“Just feel . Let go of the noise in your head. Embrace this moment. You’re safe with me. ”

Safe ? The word echoed mockingly in the dark abyss we inhabited. I was anything but safe, yet somehow, that was part of the thrill. My mind spun as his fingers continued to explore, drawing me into an abyss of confusion where fear and desire tangled together.

With every word, every caress, I felt the tension within me unravel and intertwine.

“Will you fight me?” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “Or will you let me show you what it means to surrender?”

In that moment, I was suspended between reality and a haunting fantasy, caught in a web of fear and excitement that left me breathless, and as his hands roamed, I struggled to comprehend the storm of emotions battling within me.

Damien sank to his knees between my legs, and every nerve in my body screamed at once.

I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to breathe. To think . But it was impossible with the weight of his presence, the sick electricity of him so close. I couldn’t see his face in the dark, but I could feel his eyes—hungry, predatory, drilling into me.

“ Please ,” I choked out, barely a whisper. I hated the sound of it, the broken plea that slipped out before I could stop it.

Damien laughed, a manic, sharp burst of sound that bounced off the walls and sank straight into my chest. “Oh, fuck , that’s good. Say it again, Millie. Beg me. I live for that shit. ”

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my thigh. My whole body stiffened as his fingers brushed against my ankle, light and deliberate, as if testing how far he could push before I shattered. My skin prickled where he touched me, an involuntary shiver racing down my spine that I hated myself for.

“Tell me about your childhood,” he said suddenly, his tone sharp, commanding. The shift in his voice made my stomach drop.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped, shaking my head.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snarled, his fingers trailing upward, brushing over my knee. “The shit that fucked you up. The shit you bury so deep it keeps you up at night. Spill it .”

I froze, the weight of his words pinning me down more effectively than the straps ever could. Images flickered in my mind— ghosts of a past I’d spent years trying to forget. “I’m not telling you anything,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

Damien chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the air like a low growl. “You will,” he said, his voice a razor dragging across my nerves. “Because you need to. And because deep down, you know I’m the only one who can handle the real you.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear, his breath sending chills racing down my spine. “But don’t forget,” he murmured, each word a knife in the dark. “You’ll break eventually, Millie. And when you do? You’ll thank me for it.”

I held my breath as his fingers lingered, a cruel tease against my skin, drawing closer to the vulnerability I was trying so hard to shield. The mix of fear and something darker twisted in my gut, a constant reminder of the battle waging within me. I could feel the cold metal of the chair against my back, the leather belt binding me tight—each detail of my captivity grounding me in the present, even as my mind flitted between fear and an unbidden thrill.

“Do you remember what it felt like?” he asked, his breath warm and taunting. “That helplessness ? The way it consumed you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, wrapping around me like a shroud.

His fingers danced along my thigh, tracing invisible patterns as I felt the heat radiate from him. I shivered involuntarily, every nerve ending alive, a sickening thrill that twisted in my stomach. I felt his thumb ghosted over the thin fabric of my underwear, so goddamn slow it was maddening . The heat of his touch burned through the barrier, sending a jolt straight to my core. I clenched my thighs instinctively, but he didn’t stop. If anything, the resistance only fueled his sick amusement.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. “That charge in the air? It’s like a fucking live wire between us. Palpable , isn’t it?” His thumb pressed harder, a maddening tease that sent shockwaves through me.

His cold fingers curled around the edge of my panties. The anticipation was killing me as he slowly tugged them down, baring me to the cold air.

I gasped as his finger dragged along my clit, the touch so deliberate, so cruel , that my body betrayed me with a shudder. He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, his tone sickly sweet, laced with venom. “Your body’s already made its decision, hasn’ t it?”

I shook my head, my voice cracking under the weight of his words. “No. You’re wrong—”

“Oh, I’m wrong?” His laugh sliced through the air, sharp and mocking. He forced my legs apart, his strength unyielding, his dominance absolute. “Then tell me why you’re fucking soaked , Millie. Why are you here, shaking like you’ve never been touched like this before.”

The air around me seemed to collapse, thick and suffocating, as his lips replaced his fingers. The warmth of his mouth against my clit sent a shockwave through my entire body, my back arching against my will. He was slow , deliberate, savoring every second of my unraveling as though he was burning the moment into his mind.

I bit down hard on my lip, desperate to suppress the sounds clawing their way out of me, but it was useless. A soft moan slipped free, barely audible, but his chuckle vibrated against my skin. He heard it .

“There it is,” he murmured, his voice a velvet growl. “You can’t hide from me, Millie. Your body’s already telling me everything I need to know. You’re mine—every inch of you.”

I trembled beneath him, every nerve ending on fire as his hands gripped my thighs, pulling me closer, trapping me in his orbit. “Eventually,” he said, pausing to kiss the soft skin of my inner thigh, “you’ll stop fighting it. You’ll understand that the darkness isn’t just in me, it’s in you too. And it’s hungry as fuck.”

The sudden absence of his touch was jarring, the cold air biting at my exposed skin as he pulled away. His movements were slow, calculated, like a predator leaving its mark and savoring the aftermath. His footsteps echoed in the silence, each one heavier than the last, and then he was gone, leaving me alone in the pitch-black void he’d created.

I strained to see, my eyes futilely searching through the darkness, desperate for something familiar, something that could anchor me. But all I found was the cold emptiness left in his wake. The walls seemed to close in, pressing down on me, each second amplifying the tightness in my chest. My breath came shallow and uneven, the remnants of his touch still prickling my skin, reminding me he had been real, that this nightmare wasn’t just a figment of my mind.

The room began to blur. I felt a wave of dizziness, heavier and more consuming than before, as if the darkness was seeping into my very bones. I tried to shift, to shake myself free from the fog closing in on me, but my limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. My mind reeled, each thought slower than the last, slipping away like sand through my fingers.

I fought to keep my eyes open, my vision slipping in and out of focus. The cold metal of the chair pressed against my skin, grounding me in the only tangible reality left, but even that anchor was slipping away. The edges of my consciousness frayed, and I felt myself sinking, deeper and deeper, into the inescapable dark.

The last thing I remembered was the faint hum of his voice in my mind, twisted and haunting, and then… nothing.