Behind the Badge: Obsession in the Shadows

Of me

As the door clicked shut, I lay there in silence, as my heart pounds in my chest. I stare at the ceiling as my mind races.

The longer chain around my ankle gave me slightly more freedom, but it still felt suffocating. I shift, tugging against it experimentally, knowing it wouldn't give.

I turn onto my side, curling up as best as I can on the bed, my hand rests near the chain my fingers brush the cool metal. I hated how he could manipulate my mind as easily as he controlled my body. I hate how I was starting to doubt myself, to question if I had the strength to fight back.

I close my eyes, the weight of exhaustion settling in, but my mind wouldn't quiet. The thought of being chained again tomorrow, and the day after made it impossible to rest.

The quiet moments dragged on, and eventually, I heard the faint creak of the stairs. My body tensed instinctively, but I stayed still, trying to keep my breathing steady. Footsteps grew louder as he approached. I didn't know how long I had been lying there, but it didn't feel long enough.

The door unlocked, and he stepped in, his eyes instantly on me, watching my every movement. "How did you sleep, baby?" he asks.

"Fine," I mumbled I didn't I was still exhausted.

"Time for lunch baby." He says looking down at me.

I didn't respond right away, my eyes flicking toward him as I pushed myself up to a sitting position. "I'm not hungry," I say.

He sighed, shaking his head as he moved toward me, crouching down beside the bed. "You don't get to decide that, sweetheart. I'm here to take care of you, remember?" His hand reaches out, gently moving my chin toward his chest gaze.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. "Gregory, please..."

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, his expression was unreadable. "You're not going to make this difficult, are you?"

I shook my head slightly, the words catching in my throat.

He stood up, grabbing the key to the chain. "Let's go, baby. It's time for lunch."

I watch as he unlocks the chain, I rub my ankle instinctively as he pulls the restraint away. I stand up from the bed but do not move toward him. My stomach twisted with the weight of his control, but I followed his lead without a word.

His eyes softened for a moment as he held out his hand. "Come on, let's get you something to eat. You'll feel better after."

I hesitate before slipping my hand into his, the small act of surrender crushes me. His grip was firm but not painful. He led me toward the door, his fingers gently squeezing mine as if to reassure me, though I knew better than to trust that comfort.

He kept a steady pace, as we made our way to the kitchen. The house felt like a cage, and every step deeper into it felt like a further descent into a place I might never escape.

We reached the kitchen, where he had already prepared a meal. The table was set for two, the smell of warm food filling the air, but I barely noticed it. My appetite had disappeared under the weight of everything else.

"Sit," he says, his voice soft but firm as he pulls out a chair for me.

I complied, taking a seat as he moved around the kitchen, grabbing plates and placing food in front of me. I stared down at the food, my mind elsewhere, far from the here.

"Eat," he urges me, his tone a little sharper now.

I picked up my fork, and mechanically lifted the food to my mouth, though the taste barely registered. He watches me closely, every movement of mine under his watch. I knew he was waiting for something.

After a few bites, he sat down across from me, his eyes still fixed on me as he ate.

"You know I only want what's best for you, right?" He says, breaking the silence. "Everything I do is to protect you."

I glanced up at him, my throat tight. "Protect me from what?"

His smile was gentle but cold. "From the world, from yourself... You wouldn't survive out there on your own, baby. Not without me."

I wanted to scream, to tell him how wrong he was, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I looked down at my plate, my fingers tightened around the fork.

He reaches across the table and takes my hand again tenderly. "You don't have to fight me. You don't have to be afraid. I'll always take care of you."

I pull my hand away, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want this."

His expression darkens for a split second, but he quickly masks it with a smile. "You'll understand one day, baby. You'll see that this is for the best."

I swallow hard, my chest heavy with the weight of his words. I couldn't stay like this forever.

"Let's finish eating," he says, his tone lightening as if the conversation had never happened. "We've got a long day ahead."

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Each bite felt like a chore.

Once we finished eating, he stood and cleared the table, his eyes flicked to me every so often as I remained seated, trying to think of a way out, but every plan crumbled under the reality of my situation. There was no escaping him. Not yet.

He returns, wiping his hands on a towel. "Come on," he said, motioning toward the door. "We've got some things to go over today. I want to show you something."

I followed him out of the kitchen. My legs felt heavy as I trailed behind him.

We reached a door at the end of the hallway, one I hadn't seen opened before. He unlocked it with a key he pulled from his pocket, then pushed it open with a quiet creak. The room beyond was dimly lit, and as we stepped inside, I saw it was more like a study there was a large desk, shelves lined with books, and a leather armchair near a small fireplace. But what caught my attention was the wall behind the desk. It was filled with photographs. Of me.

Everywhere I had been. Every moment, every location is captured. Pictures of me at work, walking down the street, talking to friends. Some were old, taken long before he and I had even met. My breath caught in my throat, a mix of fear and revulsion flooding me.

He walked over to the wall, tracing his fingers along one of the frames. "I've always been watching over you," he says quietly as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Even before you knew. I knew you were meant to be mine. I've kept you safe from everything. Everyone."

I backed up a step, the sense of violation settling in. "How long?" I managed to whisper.

He turned to me. "Since the day I first saw you. I knew from that moment I had to protect you."

"That's not protection," I say. "That's control. Obsession."

His eyes darkened, but he didn't move from his spot. "You don't understand what I've done for you. What I've kept from you. The things I've stopped from happening."

"Like what?" I ask. "What have you stopped?"

He steps closer, his eyes locked onto mine. "People. Men. Anyone who could have hurt you. Anyone who didn't deserve you."

My stomach twists, the realization hitting me. He had been doing this for a while removing anyone who posed a threat to his control all the relationships that had ended without explanation... it had all been him.

"You... you ruined everything," I whisper, backing away from him. "You took away my choices."

"I saved you from making the wrong ones," he says calmly. "You don't see it now, but you will baby. I'm the only one who truly cares for you."

"No." I shook my head, tears burning at the corners of my eyes. "You don't care about me. You care about control. About owning me."

His jaw tightens, "I own what I protect. What's mine."

I backed up another step. "I'm not yours."

He moves swiftly, grabbing my wrist before I can retreat any further. His grip was firm, but not painful. Not yet.

"You are mine," he whispers dangerously. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you stay that way."