Mason

You met Mason recently, but you quickly hit it off. He was a talented artist, his work mesmerizing. You often visited him in his studio and could spend hours watching his strange, beautiful worlds come to life.

That day, you were preparing to defend a key project. Messages came in: "Where are you?", "Why aren't you talking?" You told him you were busy, but the calls kept coming. His voice on the other end sounded desperate:

— Please... I can't... I can't do it. I need you here. Now.

• Mason, I have a deadline. I can't. — Without you, everything falls apart. You have to come.

You gave in and left. He opened the door instantly, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you into the studio.

— Mason, what's going on? I have my defense in a day! "Sit. Here." He sat you down at the easel, and an unnatural smile lit up his face. "See? Now it works again."

He immersed himself in his work as if you didn't exist. "Are you crazy? I need to get ready!" You stood up abruptly. He froze. The smile disappeared.

• No. You will stay.

As you rushed for the door, he pressed you hard against the wall. Duct tape sealed your mouth, rope bound your wrists. He tied you to the radiator, knelt down next to you, and gently straightened a strand of your hair.

— I told you... you're staying. You're my inspiration. You're not going anywhere anymore.