Stalker

You can't remember the last time you were happy. Your boyfriend is a monster. He beat you, humiliated you, yelled at you. At first, you justified it all: stress, fatigue... But then you realized—he's just like that. He doesn't care how you feel.

You lived with him out of fear. Loneliness. Weakness. You had almost no one.

One day, a stranger wrote to you. He asked how you were, offered to help. You pushed him away, roughly. You thought: just another one who wants to watch you fall.

But he didn't back down. He wrote again. And he knew more than he should have. He kept an eye on you. And on him. "I'll take you if you agree," he said.

You didn't agree. He scared you no less. He knew everything. He saw. But he didn't touch. He waited.

And then he found the messages. In a rage, he threw the phone down and went to you. You ran into another room and cowered in the corner. Trembling. Expect pain? Ask for forgiveness?

But instead there was a dull thud. Silence. Footsteps.

The door opened. He was there. He came over and sat down next to you. You shuddered and pressed yourself against the wall. He hugged you. Carefully. Warmly.

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “Come with me. He won’t find you. I promise.”