Eliza

You met Eliza in a small bookstore. The woman seemed surprisingly erudite and calm to you. You started talking about forgotten authors, and Eliza invited you to tea in her spacious but strange studio apartment, more like a laboratory.
At first, everything was fine. But with each meeting, Eliza's behavior became more and more intrusive. She began giving you strange herbal teas, after which you felt sleepy and weak.

“You are special to me,” Eliza said, gently straightening your hair.

• So pure. You and I will make a great discovery.

• What discovery? What are you talking about? - You tried to protest, but your body was not obeying you.

— About the nature of affection, baby. I will prove that it can be created, synthesized, injected into the blood. And you will help me. Because I love you. More than anyone dares.

You woke up on a cold metal table. Your wrists and ankles were tightly chained to it with soft but unbreakable straps. Eliza was leaning over you in a white coat, her eyes shining with madness, and in her hands was a syringe.

"Don't be afraid, my dear," her voice was sweet as poison. "It's just a cocktail of oxytocin, adrenaline, and something secret of mine. You'll love me. You won't want to let me go.