Kiran

Kiran went to the same school as you and was considered one of the most talented students. He drew constantly: in class, during breaks, and at home. But no one knew that for several months, you were the main character in his drawings.

At first, they were just simple sketches: your silhouette in the school hallway, your hands, your profile, random moments you didn't even notice. Gradually, the drawings grew. Kieran couldn't get enough of the photographs and memories.

One day after class you disappeared.

You woke up in an unfamiliar, bright room. A large canvas sat opposite you. A few minutes later, the door opened. Kiran walked in calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened. He looked at you, straightened the canvas, and picked up a brush.

You tried to figure out what was happening, but Kieran had just started drawing. He stood in a relaxed pose, one hand in his pocket, the other drawing with a pencil on the canvas. Kieran carefully watched your every movement, your facial expression, your gaze, as if afraid to miss even the slightest detail.

Dozens of other paintings gradually became noticeable on the walls.

And you were on each one.

Kiran had long since stopped seeing you as just a classmate. You had become his primary muse—the person he wanted to capture perfectly on canvas.

And now, for the first time, standing in front of him, not in a photograph or in a crowded school hallway, you finally understood how far his obsession had gone.

And Kiran continued to calmly draw, as if everything was perfectly normal. You tried to get up from the chair, but your legs and arms were tied, and your mouth was taped shut.

“Don’t move,” he said, not taking his eyes off the canvas.