Trigger Warnings: Non-consent, abduction, forced imprisonment, drugging, psychological manipulation, degradation, and forced submission. The story includes cruel punishments (such as restraint, isolation, and mind games) and themes of obsession and control.

Important Disclaimer: This story delves into dark and disturbing themes. The male character is driven by obsession and operates with a deeply twisted sense of control over the female character. His actions are calculated, manipulative, and designed to strip her of autonomy. If themes of power imbalance, non-consent, or psychological torment are upsetting to you, this story may not be suitable. However, if you enjoy complex, dark psychological narratives, this is written with that intent in mind. Proceed with caution.

About This Story:
Hello! this is the first chapter of this story, this story is a dark psychological thriller exploring the descent of a young woman into the clutches of an obsessed man from her past. This introductory chapter sets the tone for the rest of the story, giving readers a glimpse of the themes, characters, and tension to come. The following parts will be told entirely from Victoria’s perspective, diving deeper into her psychological and emotional experience as her world unravels.
Updates are planned regularly, but quality storytelling takes time, so your patience is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy the beginning of Victoria’s story, and I look forward to sharing the rest with you! <3

Note: This story is entirely fictional and intended solely for mature readers. All names, characters, and events are fictional and not based on real-life experiences.

You can read the previous parts here,

Prologue

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PRESENT DAY

The knock came just as the rain began to pour. I froze, my hand gripping the edge of the couch. The clock read 8:47 PM. No one should be here. My building wasn’t the kind of place where neighbors dropped by unannounced.

I crept toward the door, my socks muffling the sound of my footsteps on the wooden floor. My heart thudded in my chest as I peered through the peephole. The distorted figure of a man stood in the hallway, rain streaming off his black coat. The dim light glinted off his soaked boots.

Then I saw his face.

“Elliot,” I whispered.

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THREE MONTHS EARLIER

I didn’t recognize him at first. It was my first day at the new job. The office smelled of fresh coffee and industrial cleaner, and I’d just settled into my desk when I heard his voice.

“Victoria? Is it really you?”

I turned, my polite smile freezing as I took in the tall man in a neatly pressed shirt and glasses. His face was thinner than I remembered, his eyes sharper, but the name came back to me: Elliot. College. Marketing classes. The quiet guy who hovered at the edges of every room.

“Oh,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. “Wow, Elliot. It’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little too widely. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

I laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. I barely remembered him, but he talked as if we were old friends. He seemed harmless enough.

At first.

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PRESENT DAY

“Victoria,” Elliot called through the door, his voice muffled by the rain. “I just want to talk.”

I pressed my back to the wall, my breath catching in my throat. He shouldn’t be here. I hadn’t seen him in weeks—not since HR fired him after I filed that report.

“Please, go away,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. His tone was calm, almost soothing. “I just need to see you. To explain.”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My mind raced. Should I call the police? Should I run? I didn’t dare move, afraid that even the sound of my breathing might give me away.

The knock came again, harder this time.

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TWO MONTHS AGO

It started innocently enough. He popped by my desk to chat, offered to grab me coffee, and always seemed to show up wherever I went—at the gym, the grocery store, the park.

“Small town, huh?” he’d joke with a sheepish grin.

But then came the comments. The way he remembered tiny details about me from college—my favorite coffee order, the book I always carried in my bag. Details I’d forgotten myself.

“You looked beautiful back then,” he said once, his voice low. “You still do.”

The way he said it made my skin crawl.

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NOW

The handle rattled, and I jolted, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a gasp.

“I’ll leave if you ask me to,” Elliot said softly. “Just open the door, Victoria.”

I shook my head, though he couldn’t see me. My fingers hovered over my phone, ready to call for help. But before I could act, the door shuddered as he slammed his shoulder against it.

The chain strained but held.

“Elliot, stop!” I yelled, panic rising in my throat.

“Open the door!” he shouted, slamming into it again. The chain snapped with a loud crack, and the door flew open.

He stepped inside in one swift motion, water dripping from his raincoat as he closed the door behind him.

“You shouldn’t have ignored me,” he said, his voice low and measured.

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ONE MONTH AGO

He left notes on my desk—short, handwritten messages like *I miss our talks* and *I’m here if you need me.* Harmless, at first. Then came the photograph. It was me, sitting in the college library, oblivious to the camera.

Scrawled on the back were the words: *You were always so perfect.*

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NOW

“Get out!” I screamed, grabbing my phone. “I’m calling the police!”

Elliot dropped his duffel bag to the floor with a heavy thud. His eyes locked on mine, calm but unrelenting.

“You won’t have time,” he said, lunging toward me.

I darted for the kitchen, but he caught me before I could reach the counter. His hand closed around my wrist, yanking me back with terrifying force. My phone slipped from my grasp and skidded across the floor.

“Let me go!” I screamed, thrashing against his grip.

He didn’t answer. With a single motion, he swept my legs out from under me, sending me crashing to the floor. Pain shot through my elbows as I hit the ground, and I barely had time to process what was happening before he was on me.

“Stop!” I gasped, kicking and struggling as he climbed onto my back. His knee pinned the small of my back, and he grabbed both of my wrists with one hand, forcing them above my head.

“You made this harder than it needed to be,” he muttered, his breath hot against my ear.

“Elliot, please,” I sobbed. “You don’t have to do this.”

He didn’t respond. His free hand moved to his coat pocket, and I heard the faint click of a cap. My blood ran cold.

“Elliot, no—” I barely got the words out before I felt the sharp prick of a needle against the side of my neck. The sensation was brief, replaced by an icy numbness that spread through my veins.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing down harder with his knee to keep me still. “You’ll feel better soon.”

The room blurred, my vision fading at the edges as I fought to stay conscious. My body felt heavy, my limbs refusing to move. The last thing I saw was the rain pooling under the door, and the last thing I heard was Elliot’s soft, chilling voice.

“Good night, Victoria.”

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