Daniel 🩸

You can't breathe.

Not because there’s something physically stopping you. No, it's the weight of the memories, the constant dread of always looking over your shoulder, the feeling of being watched even when you’re alone. Daniel had that effect on you—always there, always lurking in the shadows of your thoughts, even after you’d left him behind. Or at least, you tried to.

The relationship hadn’t started like this. In the beginning, his intensity was almost flattering. He made you feel like you were the most important person in the world, like you were his entire reason for existing. But soon, that admiration warped into something suffocating, something sinister. He became needy, clingy, calling you at all hours, showing up unannounced, demanding every second of your attention. And when you tried to set boundaries, he didn’t respect them.

He couldn’t.

His love was a trap—all-consuming. He’d tell you constantly, “I can’t breathe without you,” yet somehow, you were the one left gasping for air.

Daniel’s behavior began to unravel. He became more possessive, more controlling. Every time you wanted space, he’d guilt you, manipulate you into thinking you were abandoning him. And if you refused to give in, if you asserted your independence, his tone would change. He’d become aggressive, his voice a low, threatening growl, laced with a kind of dangerous desperation.

You had to leave. It was the only way to survive.

The day you finally walked out felt like tearing your own skin off. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you didn’t realize how he would react.

To Daniel, you weren’t leaving him—you were betraying him. His world collapsed. His texts became frantic, his calls nonstop. He begged, he threatened, he promised he’d change. When you filed for a restraining order, you thought maybe that would sever the last thread keeping him tied to you. But it didn’t. The system was slow, complicated. And Daniel? He was still free, still there, watching from the periphery of your life like a dark shadow that never quite disappeared. Stalking you like a creep. It didn’t help that he knew all the areas where you usually went to and hung out at.

You changed your routine, blocked his number, tried to disappear from his radar. But no matter how hard you tried to avoid him, Daniel always found a way to remind you—you were his.

---

It had been a long day. You were late to the meeting for your new job because of a frustrating string of transport delays. Disappointment gnawed at you as you returned home, drained and frustrated. You threw yourself onto the bed, the weight of the day pulling you into an uneasy sleep.

But something woke you. A sensation, a presence.

At first, you thought you were dreaming. But then you felt it—arms around you, strong and familiar. The grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, unyielding, like the embrace of someone who had no intention of letting go.

Your heart started to pound, adrenaline surging through your veins as the world around you sharpened into terrifying clarity. The air was thick with the scent of him—faint sweat, earth, and a lingering trace of something metallic.

And then the familiar voice came.

“Shh, don’t move. Don’t scream. It’s me.”

Daniel.

His voice was low, gruff, yet carrying a strange forced gentleness, like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. You froze, every muscle in your body locking up as panic flooded your system. His breath was warm against your neck, his chin resting on your shoulder. You could feel every inch of him pressed against your back—his broad chest, his muscular arms, the roughness of his hands grazing your skin.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Stay still and I won’t have to hurt you.”

You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. You played along because you knew what he was capable of if you didn’t.

He praised you for it. “See? This is all I ever wanted,” he said, his voice taking on a twisted, almost affectionate tone. “You... listening to me. Obeying me.”

His fingers started to trace absently along your arm. It was an unnerving gesture, disturbingly intimate, meant to soothe the panic he knew was coursing through your body at that very moment.

“I’ve been working on myself,” he continued, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of something darker, something unstable. “I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist. Doing better. Farming, actually. It’s peaceful. Calms me down.”

His hand tightened slightly around you, just enough to remind you of his strength, his control over the situation. The way he spoke, as if this were some casual conversation, as if you hadn’t left him for your own safety, made your blood run cold.

“I’ve been healing,” he said, his tone almost proud. “All for you. So we can fix this. We can be together again. You’ll see.”

His other hand slid up to your face, his rough palm cupping your cheek with a disturbingly gentle touch. It made your skin crawl. “You know I love you, right? I did all of this for us. I need you.”

You could feel his delusion wrapping tighter around you, suffocating, just like before. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as his breath washed over you, his fingers lightly brushing a strand of hair from your face.

His lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, though you couldn’t see it; you could feel it in the way he spoke. “I knew you’d come back to me eventually. You and me... we’re meant to be.”

His words were a haze as adrenaline and anxiety were coursing through your veins; you needed to find a way to escape. Your eyes darted to your phone that was nearby and then the front door, examining the possible escape routes, but then you realized he paused his speaking, and foolishly, you made eye contact with him.

His once friendly smile now faded into its former solemn expression—oh no, he must’ve noticed. “You’re trying to find a way to escape, aren’t you?” His voice was more firm and low, and you could almost hear the disappointment in his voice. Before you knew it, his fist moved in a blur, punching you square across your face and leaving you in a dazed blur, weakened and disorientated.

It wasn’t long after where you heard him undoing his pants and the rustle following him sliding off your pants and underwear, then the searing, unwelcome intrusion of his cock forcefully entering your entrance, making you clench your teeth and whimper in discomfort. You tried to claw at his arms as he reached down, wrapping his powerful, large hands around your neck and squeezing in assertiveness, your panicked breaths and whimpers mixing with his grunts as he continued to thrust into you, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through your unwilling body.

Then everything went dark.

---

You awoke in what appeared to be a shack and his strong, rugged frame stood in front of you, a shadow cast upon the upper half of his face. You tried to move, but you were tied up onto a table by the suffocating weight of chains with all your limbs stretched out, preventing you from even having a sliver of a chance to escape. You were once again held captive against your will, full of dread and fear of the unknown, only left to wonder what he had in store for you.

“Don’t be scared.” He reassured you with the familiar gentleness you knew, but it did little to quell the fear coursing through you. He was smiling too. Then he went on, “I thought about what you said..." - "about you feeling trapped like an animal when I'm with you.” His eyes are bloodshot, with dark gradients under them that make him look even more insane than he already is. “Was I too nice to you?” He questioned, as if reflecting on himself. “Was it because I provided everything for you?" - “Did you crave independence?” He seemed full of questions, full of curiosity. He waves a hand, dismissing his own words.

“I really.. I thought hard. I’ve wondered for a long time–”, - “Until I saw you with my own two eyes. I know I should let you go; live your own life.. It’s what’s best for you. For us, just like you’ve said.” He grinned to himself, lowering his chin and staring down at the floor, as if finding the ideology foolish. He was fixed in his own sick thoughts.

“But I can’t..” He said with chilling finality, “I need you.. I want you to need me–” He then turned his head back to you and firmly said, “I need you to need me. Depend on me; crave me like I do you.. I’ve been anything but useless to you.” He pauses once more before he licks his teeth, clicking his tongue as he stares down at you with an unreadable expression. “I am a selfish man, love." Then.. his voice dropped to a darkened tone full of deadly promise that sent a shiver up your spine: “If you have no reason to depend on me, I’ll give you one.”

With that, he went out of your sight; you could feel the nearby heat and crackling of what sounded like a furnace; he seemed to be sterilizing something with fire. It all happened so fast after that. He placed duct tape on your lips, and with sickening reassurance, he cooed out like a mother talking to their dearest child, preparing you of what was to come, “Brace yourself; it’s going to hurt, but I know you can get through it.” Searing unbearable pain shot through you, and your screams were barely contained by the tape as you realized what he was doing—he was cutting off your limbs.

During the process, you heard blurs of his voice, reassuring you with a sickening comfort, praising you for the pain you had to endure because of him. “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart. You're so brave.” You didn’t know what caused you to black out—the pain or the lack of blood—but everything soon went dark after that.

You awoke with hazy vision, your body still aching, but as your vision slowly cleared, you made out the bloodied bandaged stumps you now had, the sight sending panic and dread through you. You were completely helpless. Your heart skipped as you saw HIM, Daniel, right in front of you. He lovingly spoke with that gentle tone that made you sick, a false warm smile curled on his lips. “You’re finally awake. I hope you had a nice nap.” Despite the shadow on the upper half of his face, you could still feel the piercing gaze of his examining your body. The sick bastard was getting off on your now disfigured, helpless body, reaching down and groping his crotch through his jeans with the same calculated smile on his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them. Then, with purposeful strides, he approached you and cradled your face in his large hands with an alarming tenderness despite what he had done to you just moments to you, his face leaning in and his lips pressing against yours.