I tied the ribbon every night at 3:12 AM. I don't remember why. I don't remember how. But he does. He calls me Snowflake, says I belong to him. And he's been inside my home, my dreams, my skin long before I ever learned his name. Now, the blue ribbons aren't just warnings. They're promises. Promises of obsession. Of control. Of a love so twisted, it makes it hard to breathe. And the worst part? A part of me is starting to crave it. He didn't steal me. He awakened something inside me something I was always meant to surrender to. This isn't love. This is surrender.