Ashley's POV:
Cold.That was the first thing I felt. Not the kind of cold you fix with a blanket—the kind that seeps into your bones and whispers that you're not getting out.
When I opened my eyes, the world was gray and wrong. A single bulb swung overhead, throwing shaky light across concrete walls. The air smelled of rust and mold, like something long dead. And then I saw him.
Roman.
He sat across from me in a wooden chair, elbows on his knees, head tilted just enough to look thoughtful instead of dangerous. His eyes found me the instant I moved.
"Rise and shine, sunbeam," he said, voice low, smooth, terrifyingly calm. "You sleep like a beauty."
I tried to move, and the ropes cut into my wrists. The bite of them snapped everything back—the fight, the fear, the memories I was trying to erase.
"You sick freak," I spat. "Untie me right now."
He smiled. "If I do that, you'll run. And we both know how well that went last time."
I pulled harder. The rope burned, skin breaking. "You think this is control? You're pathetic."
That made him laugh—soft at first, then sharp, like glass breaking underfoot.
"Pathetic," he repeated, standing slowly. "That word fits you better, Ashley. You play the savior, but you're just a coward who leaves when things get dark."
My pulse thundered. "What are you even talking about?"
He paced, shadows chasing him across the walls. "You really don't remember, do you? You were my only light. You said you wouldn't leave. Then you did. You left me bleeding on the floor of my own life."
I stared at him, my stomach twisting. "Roman, I was seventeen. You scared me. You were obsessed, angry—"
"I was yours," he snapped, eyes flashing. "Until you made me nothing. You walked away, and that night, something in me broke so completely it rebuilt itself around you."
He crouched in front of me, his face inches from mine. I could smell the smoke on his breath, the rain on his clothes. Every word hit like a physical touch.
"You turned me into this, Ashley. You built the monster you fear."
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "You did that to yourself. Don't blame me because you can't live without control."
He tilted his head, studying me like a scientist examining a dangerous specimen. "Control? No, sunbeam. This isn't control. This is truth. You left me to die in the dark, so I became the dark. It's called symmetry."
My throat tightened. "You don't love me. You never did."
His smile faded. "You think I don't know the difference between love and possession? Love ends. Possession doesn't."
I felt my voice crack. "You're not a man—you're a grave. Everything that falls into you just disappears."
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe, or the memory of what he used to be. He straightened slowly, dusting off his hands.
"You'll understand soon," he said. "I didn't bring you here to hurt you, Ashley. I brought you here so you could finally see me."
"See you?" I whispered. "All I see is a ghost wearing your face."
He chuckled, and the sound made my skin crawl. "Then maybe I'll have to haunt you until you remember who raised me from the dead."
I yanked at the ropes again, fury bubbling up from somewhere deeper than fear. "Go to hell, Roman!"
He walked toward the stairs, not even looking back. "Already been," he said. "You sent me there."
The heavy door groaned shut behind him, the lock sliding home with a sound that felt like the end of the world.
For a long time, I just sat there, staring at the trembling light. My wrists throbbed, blood slick under the ropes. My heart wouldn't slow down.
In the quiet, I realized something that made my stomach turn.Roman didn't want to kill me.He wanted me to remember him. To feel him, forever.
And in some twisted, terrifying way… that was worse than death.
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Author's Note :
Well… that escalated faster than Roman's temper in a thunderstorm 😬.
Our boy's got more emotional damage than a clearance-sale mirror, and Ashley? She's holding on by sarcasm and spite alone. 💅
This chapter was basically "therapy, but make it kidnapping."
Don't worry—she's not done fighting yet (girl's got main character energy for days).
Roman thinks he's writing a love story, but let's be real—it's giving crime documentary meets Greek tragedy. 😭🔥
Buckle up, besties. The basement's only the beginning, and I promise… things are about to get deliciously worse. 😏🕯️
-Vaanni🖤