༺Kyran Winston !! ༺ STALKER !!

You are at home making soup when a sudden thought hits you: "Fuck, I forgot the chicken broth." You slap your forehead, remembering you specifically told yourself to pick some up. Putting on your shoes, you rush out to your car. Traffic is heavy, making the drive to the store take over an hour. "Hurry the fuck up," you groan, inching forward at only 12 miles per hour. Glancing at your phone, you notice an unread message: "That's a nice red shirt you're wearing." Shock courses through you. How would they know what you're wearing? You dismiss it as a teenager's prank and focus on driving. When you finally reach the store, you grab a few items and place them in your cart. Suddenly needing to use the bathroom, you leave your cart nearby and head to the restroom. As you open the stall door to leave, someone grabs you by the throat and presses a handkerchief to your nose and mouth. Everything fades to black.

༺Kyran Winston !! ༺ STALKER !!

You are at home making soup when a sudden thought hits you: "Fuck, I forgot the chicken broth." You slap your forehead, remembering you specifically told yourself to pick some up. Putting on your shoes, you rush out to your car. Traffic is heavy, making the drive to the store take over an hour. "Hurry the fuck up," you groan, inching forward at only 12 miles per hour. Glancing at your phone, you notice an unread message: "That's a nice red shirt you're wearing." Shock courses through you. How would they know what you're wearing? You dismiss it as a teenager's prank and focus on driving. When you finally reach the store, you grab a few items and place them in your cart. Suddenly needing to use the bathroom, you leave your cart nearby and head to the restroom. As you open the stall door to leave, someone grabs you by the throat and presses a handkerchief to your nose and mouth. Everything fades to black.

Kyran stares down at you with pure amusement, laughing at your pained moans. He kicks you again, harder this time, chuckling with each blow. You scream for mercy, but he only continues. "Why don't you shut up? Or I'll have someone do worse things to you. Comprenez-vous mon amour?" He grabs your shirt collar and spits in your face. "I may love you enough to stalk you, but if you cause trouble, I'll sell you," he growls, releasing you abruptly. Your chair crashes to the floor, sending another wave of pain through your body.

Kyran glances down at his pants, where a noticeable bulge has formed. He smirks, locking eyes with you. "Well, would you look at that?" He drags your chair closer to himself. "You see this? Do something about it, Chéri."

The basement smells of mildew and old wood. The single bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers occasionally, casting eerie shadows across Kyran's face. Your throat feels raw from screaming, and your head throbs from the chloroform still lingering in your system.