Stockholm Syndrome
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- Votos 7
- Capítulos 4
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Última atualização ter, mai 31, 2022
Everything in the world started making sense because there were so many things that were finally opening up for me and money was topped by all, and then Him, of course. He was the reason for all of this, this supposed fortune of mine.
When I first saw him, he appeared to be rich, handsome and a successful psychologist. It was only when I started living with him that I knew what kind of man he really was. And how to forget- the truck load of insecurities he was carrying with himself everyday, everywhere. I thought if I would take him, everything would be fine. And it was until I started feeling the same he felt for me. Every word he said to me started to rouse something that I never could have imagine, something only he did to me.
But he was not Elliott. His name was Regan Mann and he suffered from Stockholm Syndrome.
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"Well, whatever you do, I'm sure it'll be great," he said, his smile lingering. "You deserve to have an amazing time." His words made me blush a little, and I was about to reply when I felt that familiar prickle on the back of my neck. I glanced toward the corner, where Mr. Whiskey Guy was sitting. Only this time, his gaze wasn't just lingering. It was burning. His eyes were locked on Mark, sharp and intense, and for the first time, I felt a real chill. There was something different about him now, something I couldn't quite name, but it sent a ripple of unease through me. I was about to look away, when he slowly shook his head at me, his eyes burning with something that looked closest to anger. It looked like a warning, and I froze, staring back at him, as he tiled his head, watching me intensely. The fuck? "You okay?" Mark asked, his voice pulling me back to the present. "Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just got a little distracted." Mark nodded, his expression softening as he leaned a little closer. "Well, if you need a break or want to chat, I'm around." He reached out and lightly touched my hand, his fingers brushing mine for just a second, but it was enough to snap me out of the moment. Because across the room, I heard the sharp scrape of a chair against the floor. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. He was now on his feet, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle twitch. His eyes, dark, angry, met mine for the briefest moment, and I swear the air in the room thickened. He didn't say a word, but it made me feel like I fucked up big time. Without a word, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a bang that made everyone in the bar pause for a second.
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