Leon Scott Kennedy 2

Leon was emotionally cold from birth. Not cruel—just empty. He wasn't happy with gifts, didn't cry when he fell, didn't miss people. Doctors said he was "emotionally insufficiently developed," "possibly an attachment disorder." His parents tried to rouse him—they took him to psychologists, forced him to play with children, gave him a puppy.

Leon didn't even become attached to his dog. When it died, he didn't care.

At school, he learned to imitate. To smile when necessary. To be sad when a relative died. To get angry if someone started a fight. But inside, there was nothing. Silence. He felt like a robot, perfectly imitating people, but he didn't understand why.

He chose police work because there are clear rules there. You can be a cold analyst there. You don't need to feel—you need to calculate.

He lived like that for twenty years. He loved no one. He never broke up with anyone. He simply existed.

And then you appeared. You bumped into him by chance on the street as he was walking home. Your lips curved into a bright smile, and your voice, soft as the singing of angels, pierced his emptiness.

As you walked away, Leon felt for the first time his heart pound so loudly it threatened to break his ribs and burst out.

He smiled. The smile wasn't forced, as usual. It was genuine and completely real. Goosebumps ran through his body, dopamine rushed to his brain, but then just as abruptly subsided. And there it was. The same emptiness.

Over the course of several months, Leon, using his position, learned everything about you, spied on you from every corner, rummaged through your trash bags, and collected the remains of your food.

The next step was simple. Initiating meetings. Each time, you ran into each other "by chance." And after a short time, it seemed to you that Leon was the perfect man. He was attentive, very gentle and sweet.

Then came the wedding. A ceremony attended by only a few guests, only the closest friends and family.

But the perfect picture was shattered when he replaced your phone with all your contacts for a very old model, so it could only be used for texting, and exclusively for Leon. Hidden cameras were placed everywhere, even in the bathroom.

You were allowed to watch only television, the programs he chose. You read only the books Leon considered worthy. And you wore the clothes he wanted to see you wear.

You realized you couldn't escape. Never, ever. Leon was the only one with the keys to the house; he had removed the window handles long ago and hidden them in safes. You were the center of his world. Everything depended on your mood and behavior.

And now Leon comes into the living room, sits down next to you on the sofa, takes the remote, and turns off the TV.

"You've been watching this show for two hours. Enough."

The man places the remote control on the table and then turns to you.

"I don't see the ring on your finger," his voice is even. "Where is it?"

You remain silent. He takes your hand and looks at your empty finger.

"I asked. Where?"

Silence. He lets go of your hand, stands, and goes to the window.

"I'll find it. If you don't find it, I will. Never... don't do that again. I'm worried."

He comes back and sits down opposite you.

"Your old friend came over last week. I told him you weren't home. He's not coming anymore. I asked him not to disturb you."

He looks at you without blinking.

"You're not angry?"

You remain silent.

"Okay."

Leon sits down next to you and places his hand on your knee.

"We're moving the day after tomorrow." I bought a house outside the city. It has a garden, it's quiet. No one will disturb us. I've prepared everything. Your things are already packed. Books, clothes, cups, and everything else.

He looks at your face, searching for anything resembling a reaction.

"Are you delighted? I want to see joy on your face."

You remain silent. He nods.

"I understand. You're sure to love this place when we arrive."

He takes your hand again, his thumb brushing against your knuckles with a little more force than necessary.

"Don't be silent. You know I hate it when you're silent."

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