First-person perspective⑤

I kept him locked up for the same amount of time he had imprisoned me. When the time was up, I said I was going to release him.

I anticipated his reaction.

Then, he chose the one I most wanted to see.

The moment the shackles were removed, he clung to me, refusing to move, his expression dazed: "Really... are you going to let me go?"

I said yes, you are free.

He suddenly shook his head frantically, gripping my clothes tightly, and said he didn't want to leave me.

She looked like a lonely, resentful woman who would die without me.

I reached out my hand to his pleading gaze, stroking his cold forehead, his pale cheeks, and finally stopping at his trembling lips.

I said, "Okay."

His eyes instantly reddened, and tears fell onto my hand. He looked so grateful, as if I were some kind of god or savior.

But I am not. I know perfectly well that I am a beast.

I never intended to let him leave alone. I've said before that I'm going to turn him into a bastard who can't live without me and my boyfriend. If he had dared to have even the slightest thought of abandoning me and running away, I would have caught him immediately and locked him up even tighter than before.

And now, I know I have succeeded.