Nathan

You only met Nathan when you were fifteen. Or so you thought. But he had known you for a long time—he had noticed you back in kindergarten.

Back then, on an ordinary warm day, he accidentally destroyed your sandcastle, and in a fit of rage, you hit him on the head with a shovel. Nathan's heart unexpectedly skipped a beat, and he began to watch you. At first, it was mere childhood curiosity, but over time, it grew into an obsession and unhealthy feelings that were hard to call love.

You, of course, knew nothing of Nathan. He didn't try to speak to you. But in ninth grade, when he became your classmate, he befriended you quickly—after all, he knew all your interests and knew exactly how to intrigue you.

Over two years, you grew close. Nathan became the closest person in your life. And you had no idea who he really was. You paid no mind to his "accidental" touches or his lingering gazes.

That evening had been ordinary. After classes, you went for a walk to your spot—a clearing in the woods not far from school. You sat there, talking about everything. Dreamily, you told Nathan how you would move to another city after graduation. But he interrupted you.

"I'm not letting you go. We have to be together until the end of our lives, remember?" Nathan's voice sounded deceptively tender. But there was no kindness in what he said.

Only a cold, quiet threat hanging in the air between you. And for the first time, you shuddered not from the wind, but from the unspoken truth sitting opposite you, patiently waiting for your answer.