When I kidnap her, I watch her panic, thrashing as if she can find a way out. There's no way out—not from me. She doesn't see it yet, doesn't realize that she belongs to me now. She doesn't understand that I'm the one saving her, breaking her out of the meaningless shell she was trapped in.

But she's stubborn. She clings to her old self, refusing to let go of the life she thought was real. She thinks she's strong, that she can resist me, but I'll shatter that illusion. I'll peel back every layer, expose every weakness. Slowly, I'll make her see what she truly is—something fragile, something that needs to be reshaped, controlled.

She's terrified, and it's perfect. That fear will break her down, little by little. Soon, she'll crave my voice, my presence. She'll forget who she was and only know what I've made her into. I'll turn her fear into need, her desperation into something darker.

She thinks she can fight me, but I know better. In the end, she will thank me.