𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 ✓ | 18+

Chapter Eight

[ 𝔾ℍ𝕆𝕊𝕋𝔽𝔸ℂ𝔼 ]

As I watched Isabella leave the park, a wicked grin spread across my face. She was mine now, a pawn in my twisted game. I had her right where I wanted her.

I couldn't resist sending her a text message, just to remind her of who was in control.

Me: Did you enjoy our little dance, Isabella?

Me: I hope you're ready for more.

I knew that my words would send shivers down her spine, and I reveled in the thought of her fear. She had no idea what I was capable of, and I intended to keep it that way.

As I waited for her response, I thought about the events of the previous night. Seeing her standing there, so vulnerable and afraid, had been exhilarating. I had almost succumbed to the temptation to touch her, to feel her fear in my hands. But I knew that I had to bide my time, to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

When her response finally came, it was filled with fear and uncertainty. She was trying to hide it, but I could see right through her facade. She was terrified of me, and that only fueled my desire to torment her further.

"I'm here for you, Isa," her friend Emily had said. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."

I scoffed at the thought. No one could protect Isabella from me. Not even her friend. Should I kill her too? Should I let Isabella watch while I kill her?

As the days passed, I continued to torment Isabella with text messages and phone calls. I would send her messages, hinting at the darkness that awaited her. I knew that I was getting under her skin, But I wasn't satisfied yet. I wanted to see her suffer, to break her spirit until there was nothing left but a shell of the girl she used to be. And I knew just how to do it.

I had been watching her closely, learning everything I could about her. I knew about her mother's illness, about the sacrifices she had made to take care of her. I knew that her mother's death had shattered her world, leaving her vulnerable and alone.

It was time to use that vulnerability against her. I sent her a message, taunting her with the memory of her mother's illness and death. I knew that it would cut her to the core, that it would push her to the brink of despair.

And as I watched her struggle to cope with the pain, I knew that I was winning. Isabella was mine now, body and soul, and there was nothing she could do to escape me.

I continued to torment Isabella with my messages, sensing her fear growing despite her attempts to hide it. She was unraveling, and I relished every moment of it.

Sending another message, I reminded her of the power I held over her.

Me: I hope you're enjoying my little game, Isabella.

Me: You're mine now, and there's no escape.

I knew my words would send her into a panic, and I reveled in the thought of her trembling with fear. She was at my mercy, and I intended to make her suffer.

As days passed, I watched her from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She grew more desperate with each passing day, and I was eager to see how far she would go to escape me.

But there was no escaping the darkness I had unleashed upon her. I lurked in the shadows, waiting for her to let her guard down so I could strike.

Then, one day, she made a mistake. She let her guard down for a moment, and that was all I needed. I sent her a message, taunting her with the knowledge I had gained about her past.

Me: I know all about your mother's illness, Isabella.

Me: I know how much her death devastated you. It must be hard for you to live with that pain every day.

Her mother died just like mine, sad story. She'll get over it like I did. Everyone dies.

My words were meant to hurt her, and I waited eagerly for her response. Instead of cowering in fear, she surprised me with her steely determination.

Isabella: I won't let you break me.

Isabella: I may be afraid, but I won't let you win.

Her defiance caught me off guard, but I was not deterred. I had her right where I wanted her.

She just didn't know that I always get what I want, even if I have to burn people in the process. I always win.

I continued to send her messages, each one more menacing than the last. I threatened her family, her friends—anyone who meant anything to her. I crossed a line, but I didn't care. I wanted to see her suffer, to break her spirit until there was nothing left but a hollow shell.