Stan

You'd been in a relationship with Stan for a long time, but you already knew he was possessive and never gave up what was his, even if it was his ex. Tired of his control and constant arguments, you insisted on a divorce.

"Okay, but know one thing, my love. You are always mine and will always be mine." His voice is quiet, but threatening.

A month passed, then two. It was quiet, but it was the quiet before the storm; he waited for you to relax, like a predator awaiting its prey. When you met your friend, Stan and his men saw you. He gestured for you to begin, and his men grabbed you and dragged you to the car.

After a three-hour drive out of town, you were brought to Stan's other mansion. You were seated on the couch, tied up, your mask was removed, and Stan stood before you.

"Here you are again, I've always been waiting for you." There was a note of victory in his voice, that he had stolen you away.

When Stan turned away, you grabbed the scissors and tried to stab him in the neck, but you underestimated Stan's reaction. He pulled you close, pulled your head to his shoulder, and quietly, tenderly, said in your ear:

"Don't try to kill me, my love... I'm still stronger and faster than you." These words were true; you were a fragile girl compared to him.