Kate woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Her body still felt heavy from whatever they had used to knock her out. She sat up abruptly, and as she scanned the room, she saw a man sitting in the corner, watching her.

He had black hair, fair skin, and a well-built body that was noticeable even under the black dress pants and white shirt he wore. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A watch adorned one wrist, and a leather bracelet the other. He held a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

“Who are you?! Where am I?! Why the hell did you bring me here?!”

Kate scrambled across the bed, pressing her back against the headboard, eyes locked on the man.

“Calm down,” he said with a cold, deep voice that made her skin crawl.

“How can I calm down when I’ve been kidnapped?!”

“Try to calm down… or it will be worse.”

“Worse?!”

Kate jumped up and ran to the door—it was locked.

“Open this damn door! I want to go home!” she screamed, frightened but trying to sound strong.

“I’m sorry, princess... but that won’t be possible. You’ll never go back to that house. This is your home now,” he said, staring at her with disturbingly glowing eyes.

“Don’t call me princess! I’m not your princess! I’ll never stay here! Let me out!”

The man put the glass down and stubbed out his cigarette. When he stood, Kate realized just how tall he really was.

“What are you doing?! Stay away!!”

“I told you to calm down… or it will be worse.”

He walked toward her, removing the belt from his pants. Kate darted around the bed, trying to keep distance.

“Stay away! If you think you can touch me, you’re wrong! I’ll kill you first!”

“I warned you, princess.”

Kate grabbed the lamp and hurled it. It struck his forehead, drawing a thin line of blood. He lunged at her, pinned her down to the bed with force.

“Relax… or it’ll hurt,” he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes widened in terror. Her heart pounded. This wasn’t how she imagined her first time. She had dreamed of flowers, rose petals, champagne, soft music, and a man she loved—not this.

She fought. But it was useless. He was strong. Towering. His muscular arms held both her wrists with one hand. The other slid under her dress, tearing at her underwear.

“NO! LET ME GO! DON’T TOUCH ME!”

She screamed, cried, but he undid his pants anyway.

“Don’t resist… it’ll be worse.”

“Let me go, you bastard! Not like this! Please, don’t!!”

She sobbed, twisted. His hand forced its way between her legs. He groaned.

“Mmm… if you’re not wet, it’ll hurt more,” he whispered.

“Don’t! No! Please don’t—AAAH!”

His lips pressed against her neck. She froze as a finger violated her. He parted her legs and positioned himself at her entrance.

“Breathe… just breathe and relax…”

“NOOOOO! AAAAH!!”

Kate trembled beneath him. Fighting. Crying. But her strength gave out. Her soul still screamed, but her body had surrendered.

He didn’t stop. His breath, his scent—alcohol and cologne—burned her skin. Kate stared at the wall. Empty. Hollow. Somewhere else entirely.

And when it ended… she knew.

By the dead weight of him collapsing on her.

By the ache in her hips.

By the silence.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn't move.

“Don’t move,” he whispered.

He stood. She heard the click of a camera. Felt him leave her body. Another photo.

Nothing inside her reacted anymore.

The sound of a zipper. His voice again:

“There’s pain medication and water on the nightstand. That door leads to the bathroom. You’ll find clothes in the closet. I left food too… some sandwiches and juice. I’ll leave you alone.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe.

He lingered a second more, touched her cheek… and left.

Kate curled into the pillow and wept.

“I didn’t want it to be like this…” she sobbed.

She got up, every step agonizing. Entered the bathroom, turned on the shower, and collapsed to her knees.

She cried.

She cried until there was nothing left.

She tried to wash off his scent.

Wash off the moment.

Wash off her skin.

Blood ran down her thighs, disappearing into the drain.

An hour later, she emerged.

Wrapped in a towel.

She changed the stained sheets in silence.

She dressed in fresh clothes, found a blanket, curled into bed, and cried herself to sleep.

That night, in the dark, a hand stroked her hair.

A voice whispered:

“Forgive me, princess…”

A kiss on her forehead.

And then... silence.

Kate woke startled. It was morning.

The blanket had been neatly placed.

On the nightstand: juice, fruit, eggs, toast.

The door opened.

It was him.

The man who destroyed her… with a fork in his hand.

“Good morning. Try to eat something… you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

She stared at him in fear.

“What happened last night won’t happen again… unless you want it to.”

“NEVER!! You’re disgusting! I hate you!”

He looked away, eyes heavy.

“You wouldn’t understand. I’ll leave you alone. Please eat. If you need something… let me know.”

“I need to leave. I want to go home.”

“Anything but that, Kate. You’re not leaving. This is your home now.”

“This room?! You call this home?!”

“No. The whole house. The door’s not locked. You can go out—there’s a garden, a pool. But don’t try to escape. The grounds are fenced. There are guards. You’re safe here.”

She glared at him with hate and pain.

“Please… eat something,” he said, reaching to touch her cheek.

She flinched away, as if burned.

“I’m Bastien,” he whispered… and walked out.