Stockholm-Syndrom | mrsswhatever

Stockholm-Syndrom | mrsswhatever

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-- Das Stockholm-Syndrom beschreibt einen psychologischen Effekt, in dessen Rahmen Opfer von z.B. Geiselnahmen positive emotionale Gefühle zu ihren Entführern aufbauen. -- Wieso verschwinden immer mehr Jugendliche in Leipzig? Wieso spricht sie der Unbekannte an? Und was hat Grace's Vater mit den Entführungen zu tun?
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He was her rock, her best friend, her first love. He became her worst nightmare, her tormentor, her captor She was his everything. His obsession. Their story should have ended with that court case, but he's found a way back to her, and he won't give her another opportunity to escape. Not this time. ------------------------------------------- Shivering, I sobbed out, unable to speak, unable to move. "Shh, shh, now baby-girl, it's alright, you're safe, don't cry" he soothed, moving closer to me. "N-Noah, I w-want to go home," I sobbed, feeling weak from my inability to talk without stuttering. A gasp left my parted lips as his hand forcefully connected with my cheek, "You are home, so I don't want to hear that crap from you, okay?" shaking, I looked down at my feet, his gaze too menacing to hold. "I said, do you understand" he spit through clenched teeth, "y-yes, I'm sorry" I whispered, a new wave of tears making their appearance. "Good girl, now I need you to keep being a good girl, okay?" nodding, my eyes met his dark ones. His form towered over me, making me feel small and irrelevant. "Words, Embry!" He demanded as I stuttered out a quiet yes. I studied him cautiously as he walked towards the far end of the room, shuffling through drawers before stalking back towards me and crouching down. I sucked in a breath as I saw the knife in his hand, his face held a mischievous grin as it glinted in the light. "Now baby-girl, you see, as much as I hate to, you need to be punished, do you know why?" Warning! This story is for mature audience, it contains strong language, abuse, mature themes and sensitive topics. Please enjoy, -Aphrodite.

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