possession
765 Words
“Everyone belongs to me,” Alessandro Moretti said.
The name settled into her mind like a warning she couldn’t ignore. Before she could react, he lifted her effortlessly and carried her toward a waiting car. “No—please—!” she cried, kicking and struggling, but it made no difference. The door was opened, and she was forced inside.
She barely had time to catch her breath before he followed, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that sent a wave of panic crashing over her. The car started moving almost immediately, pulling away from the alley as if nothing had happened, as if her life hadn’t just been ripped apart in a matter of seconds.
Elena pressed herself against the door, shaking, her mind racing for any way out. “You can’t do this… please… just let me go,” she begged, tears streaming down her face.
He watched her in silence for a moment, completely unaffected by her fear, before finally speaking. “You walked into my world,” he said calmly, his voice steady and absolute.
Her breath hitched as his gaze held hers.
“And now,” he continued, “you don’t get to walk out.”
The car kept moving, cutting through the wet streets of New York as rain blurred the city lights into streaks of gold and white. Elena sat pressed against the far corner of the back seat, her fingers gripping the door handle even though she already knew it wouldn’t open. Her breathing was uneven, her chest tight with panic, but the worst part wasn’t the locked doors or the unknown destination—it was him. Alessandro Moretti sat across from her, calm and composed, as if nothing unusual had happened, as if he hadn’t just taken her from the street like she was something he owned.
She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. “Please… you don’t have to do this. I won’t tell anyone. I swear.” Her words trembled despite her effort to sound convincing, but he didn’t react immediately. He simply watched her, his dark eyes unreadable, studying her like she was something fragile… or something he was deciding the fate of. When he finally spoke, his tone was quiet, almost indifferent. “That promise means nothing.”
Her heart sank at the finality in his voice. “I don’t even know you,” she whispered, shaking her head as if that alone could undo everything. “Why are you doing this to me?” For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression—so fast she almost missed it—but whatever it was, it disappeared just as quickly. “Exactly,” he replied, and the answer made no sense, only deepening her fear.
Before she could question him further, he reached into his coat and pulled out her sketchbook. Elena’s breath caught instantly. “That’s mine,” she said, panic rising again as he flipped it open without asking. “Please… don’t.” But he ignored her, turning each page slowly, his gaze scanning the drawings she had spent hours—days—creating. It felt like a violation, like he was peeling back pieces of her she had never meant to show anyone, especially not someone like him.
“You drew these?” he asked, though it was obvious.
“Yes,” she answered quietly, her voice smaller now.
“They’re good.” The unexpected compliment caught her off guard, but there was no warmth behind it. It didn’t feel like praise—it felt like observation. Like he was assessing her.
He closed the sketchbook and looked at her again, his expression sharpening slightly. “Soft,” he murmured.
Elena frowned, confused. “What?”
“You’re soft. Your world, your art… everything about you.” His voice carried no insult, but the way he said it made her chest tighten. “Where I come from, soft things break.”
“That doesn’t make it wrong,” she replied, a hint of quiet defiance slipping through her fear. “Not everything has to be… like you.” The moment the words left her mouth, she felt the shift. The air changed, growing heavier, more dangerous.
Slowly, he leaned forward, closing the space between them. “Careful,” he said softly, his gaze locking onto hers. “You’re starting to sound brave.” Her pulse quickened under his attention, but she forced herself not to look away.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, even though her body betrayed her.
- Writer
