My sister told my stalker I was into BDSM and captive love scenarios. So he locked me in the moldy basement of his rental unit. I slept in a dog cage, allowed a sip of water and a few bites of stale bread only at his discretion. By the time I escaped, I’d missed my college exams and the starvation had given me stomach cancer. My sister, Phoebe, looped her arm through my honors student boyfriend’s, Cameron, and winked at me, a playful, cruel gesture. “Did you enjoy the thrill, big sister? That sweet, sweet taste of being a captive little wife?” “You submissive types love that, don’t you? Not like Cameron and me, we have to stick to the power-couple path.” In the end, she tipped off the psycho to my hiding spot. I was drained of blood and transformed into a horrifyingly exquisite doll. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—the day my sister stole my boyfriend. I looked at the perfectly charming, sun-kissed young man who was my stalker. A slow smile curled on my lips. “Tell me, Silas. Are you willing to be my good dog?” … 1 He was visibly blindsided by the question. The ever-present, easy smile that was his camouflage flickered, replaced by a momentary panic and deep confusion. But I wasn’t looking at the panic. I was looking past it. In the frantic swirl of his gaze, I caught a flash of something that shouldn't have been there: a flicker of raw, pathological excitement. A sickness. I watched the slight bob of his throat beneath his pristine white collar, the light of madness reflecting in his dark eyes. It was the same light that had guided my nightmares for so long. In my past life, it had taken only a single malicious lie from my sister to unleash him. He had taken me—the girl who was kindly tutoring him—and locked me in that dank basement, choking me, abusing me with a systematic cruelty I still couldn't process. To keep me awake, to satisfy his twisted obsession, he would force me to calculate the answer to a math problem every three seconds. In that dark, airless memory, I learned that seven was the maximum number of ribs you could have broken by a shovel and still be conscious, and that exposing exactly six to eight teeth made for the most socially acceptable smile. All thanks to my dear, sweet sister. Now, reborn, I finally understood the rules of the game. Against a psychopath like Silas Thorne, you had to be the bigger monster. When I saw the excitement in his eyes threaten to break free, I knew it was time to pull back the leash. I shrugged, hoisting my book bag nonchalantly. “Just kidding. Forget I said anything.” I started to walk toward the library entrance, but he moved with terrifying speed. His hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, pulling me back. When I turned, the fleeting panic was gone. In its place was a singular, ink-black focus. His eyes were locked on mine. The next second, he met my gaze, then quickly unclasped the belt he wore, wrapping the leather tightly around his own throat. As the shadow of a smile touched my lips, he sank to his knees. Like a child eager for praise, he whispered a single, charged word: “Mistress.” Just as I reached out to ruffle his perfectly styled hair, a familiar voice—the last one I wanted to hear—rang out behind me. “Kendall… what… what are you doing?!” It was Cameron, my boyfriend of three years. He was staring, his eyes wide with disbelief, holding my sister’s hand and juggling a ridiculous, artisanal green smoothie he’d deliberately driven across town to buy for her. 2 Cameron instinctively looked down at the man kneeling at my feet. His face registered an entirely new level of shock, a type of panic I’d never seen from the controlled, academic golden boy. Before he could demand an explanation, Phoebe gasped in mock horror. “Oh! Sister? I never knew…” “You’ve been playing so dirty behind Cameron’s back?” Then, pretending to recover, she smoothed things over for me, turning to Cameron with fake concern. “No… wait.” “Cameron, we must be misunderstanding Kendall.” “She must have some kind of profound stress. Maybe she’s just dealing with the pressure of the Presidential Scholarship by…” “By letting off a little steam like this?” Looking at the thinly veiled, triumphant mockery in her eyes, I felt my heart begin to incinerate. I remembered the past, when she’d handed Silas the carving knife and asked me, a cruel smirk on her face, “What now, little wife? Ready to be stuffed and mounted?” The suppressed rage made my body tremble, but I locked it down. I placed my hand on Silas’s head, stroking his hair gently. “Don’t listen to them, good dog.” “What I feel for you is far more than ‘letting off steam.’” Silas froze. He glanced at me, then wasted no time in establishing his claim. Ignoring the crowds of students around us, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Hard. For a moment, a metallic, coppery taste filled my mouth as he devoured every gasp of air I had left. When he finally pulled back, he looked straight at Cameron, a satisfied, predatory expression on his face. “What’s wrong, Mistress?” “Someone’s staring at me like they want to murder me.” “Surely my Mistress won’t abandon me for him?” Seeing the raw, incandescent fury in Cameron's expression, I smiled and replied, “Of course not.” This blatant, public provocation shattered Cameron’s usual polished composure. He threw his head back and yelled at me, shame and anger overwhelming him. “Kendall! You know this is a critical tutoring period for Phoebe!” “Did you seriously bring this… this trash here just to humiliate us?” “Do you think this is funny?!” Cameron’s outburst caused Phoebe to frown at me in disappointment. “Sister, I know you’re upset that Cameron is focusing on my applications.” “But you shouldn’t use your relationships to act out! What makes you any different from those trashy, shameless sluts?” Cameron immediately cut off her 'well-meaning' monologue, glaring at me. “Enough.” “Some people are only fit to live in the gutter. We don’t need to be dragged down by a tramp like her.” Then, he took Phoebe’s hand and stormed away. But just before they turned the corner, I caught the shadow of a triumphant smirk on Phoebe’s face. She looked like she knew exactly what my future held. Too bad. In this life, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. 3 That same day. In the study lounge booth right next to the one where Cameron was helping Phoebe with her prep, Silas and I kissed with a blistering heat. The gasps and soft sounds of our activity were so loud they practically drilled into Cameron’s booth. The sound of his rage climaxed when he smashed his expensive fountain pen on the table. Just as things were about to spiral out of control, I bit Silas’s lip. He winced, his brow furrowed, and he looked at me with displeasure. “What is it, Mistress?” “Are you still worried about the brother next door?” “Or did the sound of his tantrum disrupt your pleasure?” He smoothed out his expression, showing two tiny, almost boyish canines, and I was momentarily stunned. Because of the trauma of my past life, I had never really looked at Silas. I had never noticed how truly beautiful his features were. His long, slightly curled lashes softened the pathological edge in his eyes. He looked like a finely carved sculpture. Compared to Cameron’s clean-cut, predictable handsomeness, Silas was a revelation. But I snapped out of the trance quickly. I knew exactly what kind of terrifying creature lurked beneath that perfect exterior. When I didn't answer, his strong, articulate hand slammed me back against the wall. The muted thump made the study table in the next booth vibrate. Just then, Cameron’s patience finally ran out. He threw his textbook down and angrily hammered on the dividing wooden wall. Silas, however, met Cameron’s rage with an infuriating calmness. “Do you need something, Mr. Honor Student?” he asked, a flirtatious lightness in his voice. “Perhaps you need my Mistress to enlighten you on a difficult question?” He stepped slightly aside, making a mocking 'after you' gesture. That playful smirk succeeded in humiliating Cameron. “This is a study lounge!” Cameron hissed, his teeth clenched in fury. “It’s not a place for you two to hook up!” He slammed the door and stormed back into his booth with Phoebe. The next second, I heard heavy breathing and soft, breathy sounds of "no" and "don't" coming from the other side of the wall. I gathered my things and started to stand up. That’s when a solid, powerful hand clamped around my throat. The suffocating pressure instantly intensified. Silas’s calm mask dissolved, replaced by the stark, terrifying madness I remembered so well. “Mistress,” he whispered, his eyes blazing with a deranged intensity. “You can’t just tease someone and then walk away. Even if I am your dog, a mad dog will bite.” Staring into his almost pathologically focused eyes, I felt no fear. I just asked him, flatly, “Did that feel good?” Silas blinked, clearly taken aback. I pressed on, my voice steady and normal. “The taste of defying your Mistress.” “Did it feel good, Silas?” That single question successfully introduced a tremor of panic into his gaze. As my calm, assessing look held him, he slowly released his grip. Then, he knelt down, cupping my feet in his large hands. After a long silence, his eyes, suddenly vulnerable and flickering, lifted to mine. “Mistress.” “I’m the best boy. Please don’t abandon me.” I finally allowed a genuine, though cold, smile to surface. I gently ruffled his soft, messy hair. I replied softly, “Good dog. I won’t abandon you.” “Ever.” A brilliant, utterly sincere smile bloomed on Silas’s face. Just as we started to leave, Cameron and Phoebe, looking disheveled, emerged from their booth. Meeting my cold gaze, Cameron gave a short, cruel laugh, revealing a hickey on his neck. A flushed Phoebe rolled her eyes at me. She leaned into Cameron, complaining coquettishly about how forceful he’d been. “Now my legs feel like jelly.” She gave me a smug, sidelong look, then wrapped her arms around Cameron’s neck as he lifted her up to carry her. “You’re the expert here, sister,” she taunted. “You guys made the entire table wobble, yet you look completely fine.” Then, she focused her intent on Silas. “I really envy you, Silas.” “To get someone already well-trained right from the start.” “Not like Cameron and me. We have to take things slowly, even with the most basic positions.” I was physically sickened. Then, she paused, tapping her chin with a faux-innocent look. “Oh, right.” “Cameron just promised to give me your early acceptance scholarship slot.” “You’re not mad, are you, sister? After all, a flirtatious little wife like you will just end up focused on domesticity anyway.” “Not like Cameron and me. We have to stick to the hard path of the power couple.” Phoebe’s silvery laughter faded as the memory of my past life flooded back: I had given up my hard-won competition scholarship spot for Cameron when he’d begged me. He had then turned around and passed it to Phoebe as a grand gesture, and the two of them became the celebrated golden couple heading off to the Ivy League, while I was left for dead. Reborn, there was no way I would let Cameron steal what was mine. I’d just left the principal’s office. Moments later, the pair of them blocked the doorway of my classroom, staring at me with disbelief. “Kendall!” Cameron sputtered. “You have gone too far!” 4 Seeing that I had made absolutely no effort to hide the fact that I had reclaimed my scholarship, Cameron was shaking with anger. “You know Phoebe’s grades aren’t guaranteed for an Ivy League spot! Why would you deliberately hog her scholarship?” “What is your problem?!” He actually made me laugh. Taking back what was mine was, in his mind, "hogging." I suppressed the nausea he caused me and shrugged indifferently at the pair of them. “I simply retrieved what belongs to me.” “Is there an issue with that?” I then smiled, meeting Cameron’s enraged eyes. “You’ve been trying so hard to tutor Phoebe. Isn’t that because you want her to prove herself with her own hard work and talent?” “A shortcut like this doesn't suit her ‘Girlboss’ image. Why, I thought I was doing you a favor by helping her earn it the hard way. Why are you upset?” I turned to leave, but as I passed him, Cameron grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip. The commotion drew the attention of other students, but he intentionally raised his voice to embarrass me. “Kendall!” “You—” Even with an audience, I didn't mince words. “That’s right. I did it on purpose. What are you going to do about it?” My dismissive attitude immediately sent Phoebe into a fit of tears. Red-eyed, she pouted at Cameron. “Cameron, it’s fine.” “If my sister is so determined to ruin things for us, I’ll let it go. I won’t let you beg her for my sake.” The display instantly earned her the sympathy of the surrounding male students. “Kendall, that’s going too far!” “So you’re smart—who cares? What kind of future will a little wife like you have, even at an Ivy?” “Unlike Phoebe, who’s on the fast track to being a powerful woman! How dare you hold onto that spot?” “You don’t deserve it!” Encouraged by the crowd, Cameron glared at me, his voice rough with resentment. “You want to make a scene? Fine!” “Today, I’m going to let everyone see what kind of person you really are!” He stormed toward the rushing principal, full of self-righteous fury. In front of all the students, he declared, “I want to file a formal complaint!” “Kendall has engaged in immoral conduct! She was hooking up with another student in the study lounge!” Phoebe followed him, her chin held high as she launched into her own self-serving 'Girlboss' manifesto. The principal, however, interrupted them with a scowl. “What are you two doing?! Do you realize the trouble you’re in?” “The school is considering canceling your exams and moving to expel you both!” Cameron and Phoebe froze, horrified. “What?! How is that possible?!” Before they could fully process the shock, the class chat group exploded with activity. Reading the stream of messages, Cameron’s face turned chalk-white. He looked at me and screamed, utterly undone: “Kendall!” “What the hell have you done?!” Seeing the grainy video of him and Phoebe in the study lounge circulating wildly, I merely shrugged and smiled. “Nothing much.” “Just doing my part to ensure our student body has a quiet, dignified environment for their studies.” The loud, unmistakable sounds of their heavy breathing echoing from the phones of students in the hallway caused Phoebe to completely lose it. She dropped to the ground, screaming hysterically. “It wasn’t me!” “That person wasn’t me!” She grabbed one student's phone and smashed it, trembling. “Don’t look!” “None of you are allowed to look!” Despite their frantic denials, the principal dragged them both off to his office. I thought the two of them would face a social media firestorm. But I underestimated the power of the Cameron family’s money. Within half an hour of their parents arriving, all traces of the video had been purged from the school networks and the internet. Even their impending expulsion was quickly rescinded. That night, on the walk home, Cameron confronted me, a clear threat in his voice. “Kendall!” “Don’t think this is over. You dared to bring shame to Phoebe? You should expect to pay a very heavy price.” Phoebe looked at me with pure malice. “Sister, you disappoint me. People with character flaws like yours belong in the lowest pit of hell.” Meeting Phoebe’s wicked glare, I knew it was time to give them a preview of hell. After they left, I finally made the call. The next morning, Silas, who was waiting to pick me up, was holding a beautifully wrapped gift box. Inside was the brooch he had recently given me. The moment he dropped the box in shock, the meticulously prepared “gift” I had nestled within the red raffia ribbon rolled out.
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