The door clicked shut behind him, sealing me in darkness once again. The sound echoed, final and cruel, like the slam of a cell door. I lay still—my wrists aching from the cold bite of the chains—as Ivan's words repeated in my head. Not yet.
What did he mean?
Was someone coming? Or was he just playing with my mind?
The silence pressed down on me like a second weight, heavier than the chains. My thoughts raced. How long had he been planning this? Watching me? Wanting me?
I tried to scream again, but the gag remained firm. Only my eyes could scream now. And the walls—they didn't care.
My eyes drifted to the corner of the room, where the shadows seemed to shift with my fear. And for a moment… I wasn't here anymore.
I was back in the school hallway.
Two months ago.
It was raining outside. The hallway was mostly empty. I remember standing by my locker, struggling with a jammed zipper on my bag. And then—
I'd felt it.
That cold sensation on the back of my neck. Like someone was watching me.
I turned, just for a second, and saw him.
Ivan.
Leaning against the opposite wall. No phone. No book. No friends. Just… staring.
Not at anyone else. Not at the floor.
At me.
At the time, I thought I imagined it. I told myself he was looking past me, probably waiting for someone. He didn't even know me.
But now?
Now I couldn't stop thinking—maybe that was the moment. The start of whatever this is.
A sudden creak yanked me out of the memory.
My heart jolted.
Footsteps. Again.
Slow, steady… getting closer.
The door handle turned.
I froze.
Ivan stepped back into the room, now holding a tray — steam rising from a bowl, a glass of water beside it. Like we were just… roommates. Like this was normal.
He knelt beside the bed, setting the tray down carefully. Then, without a word, he reached behind my head and untied the gag.
The cloth slid away from my mouth, damp with panic and silence. I coughed, barely able to form words.
"W-Why are you doing this?" I rasped.
Ivan looked at me with something terrifyingly calm. His voice was low, like he was confessing something sacred.
"Because they never saw you, Maria. But I did. I always did."
He smiled.
And somehow, that was worse than anything else.
"Ivan… we can talk it out," I whispered, trying to sound steady. "You don't need to do this."
His head tilted slightly. "Maria," he said slowly, "do you really think I don't know what you're trying?"
He picked up the spoon and brought it near my mouth. I wanted to resist. I should've resisted. But the way he looked at me—so calm, so sure—froze me in place. His gaze was warm, almost gentle… but in a way that made my skin crawl.
I gave in.
He fed me quietly. Too quietly. Every movement was careful. Controlled.
"You'll get used to it," he said. "The quiet. The safety. Out there… they would've destroyed you."
"They…?" I managed to ask, eyes searching his. "Who are you talking about?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he reached forward, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, possessive. Not violent. Not yet.
Finally, in that same soft tone, he whispered, "You don't need to worry."
And just like that, he stood, placed the tray aside, and tied the gag back around my mouth.
He turned to leave.
But just before his hand touched the doorknob, he paused. He looked at me one last time and said:
"Sleep well, Maria. Tomorrow… we begin the real bonding."
The door shut with a dull thud, and once again, I was left in the dark.
And I couldn't stop trembling.
Whatever "bonding" meant…
I had a sinking feeling it would break something in me I could never get back.