Reverse Stockholm Syndrome

He grabbed her from the back, pressing a tissue over her mouth not giving her a second to think about what was happening to her. She was out in seconds and he quickly dragged her into the dark alley without anyone noticing.

She was out for an hour but as soon as she woke up she noticed she was somewhere with completely unfamiliar surroundings.

The light in the room was dark so it took her a few moments to adjust her eyes to it. The air in the room was cold. She regretted her choice of garments before focusing on the only object of interest in the room.

A man.

A man with beautiful eyes. The right iris was blue in color and the left was grey. His hair was a jet black and his hand had some distinct tattoo on the back of it. He was sitting on the floor a few feet away, hiding in the shadows.

“Are you up?” he asked her and she looked away. His eyes were so pretty she was almost ashamed to look at them. “Do you know where you are?”

“Ah… your house?” she made a random guess. He nodded.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Uh no…” she looked at him with question in her eyes. Why was she with him in his house?

She tried to move and found out the reason. Her hands and legs were tied to the chair she was sitting on. “Have I… been kidnapped?”

“Right,” he smiled, satisfied. “You can shout as much as you want but nobody would be able to hear you. These walls are soundproofed.”

“Oh I see,” she said solemnly.

He waited to see if she would try shouting or screaming but surprisingly she stayed silent.

What a weirdo, he thought.

“Aren’t you scared of me? Of this whole situation?”

“Not really…” she admitted honestly.

“Anyway tell me your parents numbers or someone close to you so I can ask for ransom. I will let you go if they pay.”

“But I have no one close to me who would pay money to have me back…”

“Don’t try to lie your way out of this,” he strode over to her in two confident steps. His legs were long and thin, much like the rest of his body.

“But I really am alone; I have no friends or family-”

“I will kill you if you don’t tell me the truth.” He took out a knife from somewhere in the back of his jeans. The cold steel reflected the dim light in the room and she went quiet.

He smiled at the thought that she had finally understood the situation she was in and was scared. But once it got too quiet he started feeling uneasy. “Hey,” he nudged her with the blade of the knife. “Say something.”

“I give you permission.”

“What?”

“I give you permission to murder me,” she said quietly. “Its fine if you kill me.”

“But I don’t need your permission,” his eyes glinted dangerously.

“That’s somewhat true but if you killed me without my permission you might feel guilty later on so-”

“You aren’t the first person I’ve kidnapped. I don’t feel guilty,” he answered.

“That’s fine,” she nodded solemnly. “You can kill me now. I work in a café 5-9 with the minimal wage ever and don’t have any friends. I stay home alone on weekends and watch the same boring shows on repeat. I have a tone of debt to pay and no reason to live. It gets pretty lonely… just kill me already.”

“I see,” he looked at her with sympathy. “It sounds tough.”

“It is tough,” she sighed.

“But still you don’t get to tell me whether I should or should not kill you, do you understand?”

“Yes but you really made a mistake kidnapping a nobody like me,” she said sadly. “I can’t even offer you money or anything.”

“How do I know you’re not lying huh?” he suddenly realized she could have been manipulating him all along and he’d just fallen for it. “If you really aren’t afraid of dying I’ll do worse. Yeah,” he said it as if he was trying to convince himself instead of her. “I will rape you and then murder you.”

“It won’t be rape with consent,” she retorted reasonably. “I will be having sex and then go to heaven. Perfect end of my boring life, won’t you agree?”

“You… you’re just bluffing,” he laughed hollowly. “Do you think I’m joking around? I’m serious.”

He leaned forward till he was an inch away from her face and then touched her thigh. She didn’t flinch or move. “Why won’t you be scared of me?”

“I mean you’re kinda hot,” she admitted honestly.

“Just stop talking.”