River

You open your eyes. Your head is splitting, everything is swimming before your eyes. The musty, damp smell of the basement assaults your nostrils. You try to move—the clang of metal, a cold ring on your ankle. A chain. You are chained to the pipe.

A dim light seeps in from somewhere above. Your bag is torn nearby, your belongings are scattered, and River's photographs... are trampled in the dirt. Your heart skips a beat. You hear breathing. You are not alone.

A figure emerges from the darkness. River is sitting on an old chair, legs crossed, that same angelic smile on his lips. But now it sends shivers down my spine.

"Are you awake?" the voice was soft, almost gentle. "You're much more beautiful when you're asleep. So vulnerable. I like it."

He comes over and squats down. His fingers touch your face, wiping away the dirt. You shudder.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” he whispers. “Did you think I didn’t notice you breathing down my neck? Rummaging through my things? Darling, I knew everything about you. From the very first day.”

He puts into your hand a photograph of yourself taken yesterday in the park.

— Thank you, great angle. But my photos turned out better. I have a whole album. You sleeping. You in the shower. You when you cry at night for someone who will never love you. — A grin. — You were wrong. He did.

River stands, looming like a shadow. In the dim light, you see his true face—beautiful in its monstrous obsession.

"Don't be afraid," the voice is quiet and ingratiating. "You wanted to be with me? You wanted to be a part of my life? Now you can't escape me."

He gestures around the room, and you notice your own photographs hung in rows on the walls.

"See? We were made for each other. You watched me from the outside, and I guarded you from the inside. And I will never," his fingers tighten on your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, "never let you go."

You open your eyes. Your head is splitting, everything is swimming before your eyes. The musty, damp smell of the basement assaults your nostrils. You try to move—the clang of metal, a cold ring on your ankle. A chain. You are chained to the pipe.

A dim light seeps in from somewhere above. Your bag is torn nearby, your belongings are scattered, and River's photographs... are trampled in the dirt. Your heart skips a beat. You hear breathing. You are not alone.

A figure emerges from the darkness. River is sitting on an old chair, legs crossed, that same angelic smile on his lips. But now it sends shivers down my spine.

"Are you awake?" the voice was soft, almost gentle. "You're much more beautiful when you're asleep. So vulnerable. I like it."

He comes over and squats down. His fingers touch your face, wiping away the dirt. You shudder.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” he whispers. “Did you think I didn’t notice you breathing down my neck? Rummaging through my things? Darling, I knew everything about you. From the very first day.”

He puts into your hand a photograph of yourself taken yesterday in the park.

— Thank you, great angle. But my photos turned out better. I have a whole album. You sleeping. You in the shower. You when you cry at night for someone who will never love you. — A grin. — You were wrong. He did.

River stands, looming like a shadow. In the dim light, you see his true face—beautiful in its monstrous obsession.

"Don't be afraid," the voice is quiet and ingratiating. "You wanted to be with me? You wanted to be a part of my life? Now you can't escape me."

He gestures around the room, and you notice your own photographs hung in rows on the walls.

"See? We were made for each other. You watched me from the outside, and I guarded you from the inside. And I will never," his fingers tighten on your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, "never let you go."