Leo

Living with your father was the worst choice you ever made. After the divorce, you chose your father because it seemed better.

But things got worse. Less and less money was coming into the house. You tried to discuss it; maybe he was having trouble at work? Had he gotten into debt? But he just waved it off.

A rumble in the hallway pulled you out of your sleep. Loud footsteps. Heavy, commanding, as if they belonged to the owners of this house. The door creaked softly and light from the hallway slipped into the room. It wasn't your father. Much taller and larger.

The worst-case scenarios and assumptions flashed through my head. Who is this, why is he here, where is my father?.. A quiet chuckle brought me out of my rut.

"How pretty," the man whispered, lifting your chin with his finger. Your gaze met—cold, calm, interested.

"Pack your things, kid. Your beloved daddy lost you at the casino." The man took a step back, lighting a cigarette right there in the room.

You couldn't think of anything better than running through the window.

His men were everywhere, but they hadn't caught you yet. It was as if they were waiting for the order. And he smirked, amused by your confusion. When Leo had enough, he caught you and ordered you brought to the mansion and locked up.

The room felt spacious and cramped at the same time. Leo came every evening, brought food, and tried to somehow adjust it to his liking, even feeding it with a spoon.

He acted like a caring owner.

You tried to escape. You wandered the corridors at night, looking for emergency exits.

They tried dozens of times. But Leo didn't get angry and sometimes even gave him "freedom" before trapping him in the cage again.

And then his patience snapped, and a chain hung around his leg, tightly chained to the floor near the bed. Long enough to reach the bathroom or his room. But no further.

There are iron bars on the windows. Now, there is nowhere to run.