I couldn't stop thinking about him, even though I despised him with every fibre of my being. There was something about him that intrigued me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.
As I sat in the room, I couldn't help but replay the conversation we had earlier. I had told him that I hated him, that he was a monster, but he had just smirked and walked away. It was like he didn't care what I thought of him, and that made me even more angrier.
I tried to distract myself by looking out the window, but my thoughts kept going back to him. I couldn't understand why he had kidnapped me, why he was so cold and detached. It was like he was a different person, someone who was incapable of feeling anything.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised how
