The days after the confrontation outside the bookstore blurred into one another, each one feeling heavier than the last. Elara couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, caught in the web Rowan had spun around her. His presence was a constant shadow, always lurking, always waiting. His every move felt like a reminder of just how little control she had left over her own life.
She had tried to take small steps toward normalcy, attending classes, seeing friends, going through the motions of her everyday routine. But no matter where she went, Rowan was there, like an uninvited guest who never left. His messages were frequent, his calls relentless, and every time she tried to put distance between them, he found a way to close the gap.
That night, as she sat alone in her room, Elara felt a strange sense of dread crawling up her spine. Her phone buzzed, and for a moment, she hesitated, knowing exactly who it was before even looking at the screen. Rowan's name stared back at her, the words "I miss you" appearing in the message preview.
Her heart sank.
She hadn't responded to his messages in over two days, but now, she couldn't help but feel a tug in her chest. She could feel the weight of his words, as though they were pulling her in, wrapping around her like chains. She hated herself for the way his messages affected her, for the way his presence, even in text form, made her feel both terrified and comforted.
What's wrong with me? she thought as she stared at the screen. Why do I always give in?
But before she could think any further, her phone rang. It was him again.
Elara's hands trembled as she answered the call, the familiar tone of his voice washing over her like a drug she couldn't quit.
"Elara," Rowan's voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was an undertone of something darker. "I've been thinking about you all day."
Her throat tightened. "I—I've been busy."
"I know," he said, his voice sliding into something more insistent. "But I haven't seen you in a while. You're avoiding me."
She couldn't deny the truth in his words, but she wasn't sure how to respond. "I need space, Rowan. I've told you that before."
His silence on the other end made her stomach churn. When he spoke again, his voice was different—colder, more controlled.
"You're mine, Elara. You don't get to push me away. Not again."
The words sent a chill down her spine, and her heart thudded in her chest. Not again. The phrase haunted her. She had heard it before, but now it felt heavier, more suffocating.
"I haven't been pushing you away," Elara said, her voice barely a whisper. "I just… I need some time for myself."
"I'm giving you time," Rowan replied, his tone darkening. "But you're not going anywhere without me, Elara. Not anymore."
Her pulse raced, panic beginning to rise in her chest. This wasn't the boy she had once known. This wasn't the person she had fallen for. This was someone else—someone who was taking more from her than she was willing to give. And yet, despite the fear that clawed at her throat, part of her still longed for him, still felt drawn to him in a way she couldn't explain.
"I—I don't know what you want from me," she whispered, her words barely audible as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to fall.
"I want everything from you, Elara," Rowan said, his voice low, almost possessive. "I want all of you. Your mind, your body, your soul. You don't get to belong to anyone else but me."
His words felt like ice being shoved into her veins, cold and unfeeling, but she couldn't deny the effect they had on her. There was something in the way he spoke, in the way he demanded her attention, that made her feel both fearful and desired, both trapped and wanted.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore," she said, her voice cracking under the weight of the admission. "I don't know if I can be with someone who makes me feel like I'm losing myself."
There was a long pause, and for a brief moment, Elara thought maybe she had broken through to him. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he would let her go, just for a little while, to breathe, to regain herself.
But then, Rowan's voice came through, cold and determined.
"You don't get to make that choice," he said softly. "I've already decided. You're mine, Elara. And you'll never get away from me."
The finality in his voice made her blood run cold. His control over her was complete, and there was no escaping it now.
---
The next few days felt like a blur. Elara barely left her apartment, drowning in the silence and the weight of Rowan's demands. His calls had become more frequent, his presence more suffocating. He was always there, waiting for her, watching her.
She couldn't even tell her friends what was happening. What could she say? That the person she had once loved had turned into someone unrecognizable? That she had become a prisoner in her own life, trapped by the very person she had once trusted?
One afternoon, as she sat at her desk, her phone buzzed once again. This time, the message wasn't from Rowan—it was from a number she didn't recognize.
Meet me at the old pier. I need to talk to you.
Her heart skipped a beat. She knew the pier. It was a place she had gone to with Rowan, back before everything had changed. It was a place that held memories—memories that now felt tainted by the darkness that had crept into their relationship.
What did they want? she wondered.
Part of her was terrified, but another part of her was drawn to the message. She wanted answers, wanted closure. She needed to understand what was happening to her, to them.
And so, with trembling hands, she grabbed her coat and headed out the door. The weight of her decision felt suffocating as she walked toward the pier. She knew this could be the moment where everything changed—where she either broke free or let herself fall even deeper into Rowan's world.
But as she reached the end of the pier, there was no one there.
She stood in the cold, the salty air biting at her skin, waiting, her heart racing in her chest. The empty stretch of pier seemed to stretch on forever, the fog rolling in thick and heavy around her.
And then she heard it.
Footsteps.
They were slow, deliberate, and she knew without turning around who they belonged to.
Rowan's figure emerged from the mist, a dark silhouette against the pale light of the moon.
"Elara," he said softly, his voice laced with something darker than before. "You thought you could escape me? You thought you could run?"
Elara turned to face him, her stomach twisting into knots. "Rowan… What is this? Why are you doing this to me?"
He smiled then, but it wasn't a smile that brought comfort. It was the smile of a predator, one who had already claimed his prey.
"I'm not doing anything to you, Elara," he said softly, stepping closer. "I'm just making sure you realize what's always been true."
She felt the air between them tighten, the reality of her situation crashing down on her like a wave.
"You belong to me," he whispered, his voice cold and final. "And I will never let you go."
---