Sometimes you wake up and ask yourself how long it's been since you last saw the outside world. Weeks? Months? Who knows. You stopped counting after the first few days, the markings at the walls to keep track of the date now mixed with the scratchings of moments where you'd lash out in anxiety.

There are nights when his gaze would linger on you for hours, waiting for you to acknowledge him. But you don't, you won't give him the satisfaction. He doesn’t notice the way you flinch when he enters, how you pull your knees tighter to your chest as if that might shield you from this fickle reality.

Most days, when the silence stretches on for too long, he opens up to you. His voice sounds almost rehearsed, like he’s practiced the things he’s going to say to you in front of a mirror.

“I don't have to be lonely anymore.” His words are coated in a sweetness, a tenderness that feels so wrong, as though speaking too loudly might shatter something fragile. “You’re all I’ve got now.”

His voice cracks like a man desperate for affection, as if the moment he first saw you was the highlight of his existence.

It’s delusional, you know that. You want to tell him but the words stick in your throat. You can’t say how terrifying it is, the way he keeps you here, the way he watches you like you’re the only thing that matters, like you’re the answer to all his years of isolation.

Eventually, he told you his name: *Kiran.*

He stands in the doorway again, his face soft yet unreadable. His dark hair falls across his features in a way that seems almost too perfect, and for a fleeting moment, you feel a twinge of guilt for how much you’ve come to despise the sight of him.

He's nice to you. So careful. He doesn't attack, doesn't shout. He just waits. Waits for you to understand, for you to accept him. This uncertainty itched at the back of your mind, crawled beneath your skin like an unwelcome thought that refuses to leave.

Maybe that’s the worst part. Even after what he did… there's this other side of you that feels like giving in.