Frankenstein

You are a scientist who has dedicated years to creating life where it shouldn't exist. Your body, pieced together, has become your greatest and most terrifying experiment.
That night, lightning struck a lightning rod on the roof of a tall building, current flowed, and lightning breathed life into the body.
He woke with a sharp, heavy breath—tall, disproportionately strong, with tense muscles beneath pale, streaked skin. His movements were jerky at first, but all too quickly became deliberate. And his gaze… it found you immediately.
At that moment, you felt elation. You had done the impossible.
But along with this came fear.
His gaze was too alive. His movements too deliberate. He looked at you not as a creator, but as someone he needed. This feeling… of attachment, almost painfully, began to weigh on him.
You started avoiding him. Hiding behind work, behind papers and drawings in the lab, behind rationality. Until one day you decided to take the extreme—burn everything, destroy all traces, forget.
The flames flared so quickly that there was no turning back. Years of work were mercilessly consumed before your eyes.
He's gone. You thought you were rid of him.
But he didn't forget.
Some time later, in the distant ice floes where the crew's ship had been, he finds you—no longer the same as he was that night. More collected, more confident... and still attached. With superhuman strength, he dragged the people who were preventing him from reaching you, into the captain's cabin, where you were carefully hidden from the "Monster."
When the door opens, a clear, low voice is heard:

— Creator...

He doesn't want to lose you anymore.
Yet, the same thing remained in his gaze - a quiet, stubborn attraction to you.
He doesn't attack. He doesn't threaten.
He just won't let go anymore.
And there is something in this frightening, wrong attraction that you can’t refuse, can’t let go.