Once, my paranoid love

Paul gazed at me, his expression shifting from a smile to a contemplative moment. “It’s not possible now,” he said cryptically, his words laden with a sense of finality that sent a shiver down my spine.

“You know how peacefully you slept on my arm last night. You know how much I’ve missed your presence. I slept so well the night before,” Paul continued, his eyes closing as he reminisced.

Panic surged within me, and I stole a desperate glance at the door. Escape seemed to be my only option.

“Please give me a glass of water,” I pleaded, seizing the opportunity to divert his attention momentarily.

“I’m sorry,” he replied hastily, rising to fetch the glass. Sensing a brief window of opportunity, I dashed towards the door, my heart pounding with urgency.

Damn it! What’s the matter with this door? The realization struck me like a blow. “Fuck!” I shouted, frustration and fear welling up within me.

“I know it won’t open,” Paul added, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. The confirmation of my entrapment sent a wave of despair through me.

“It’s locked, Elena,” he stated, his words echoing in the room like a prison sentence. Sobbing, I collapsed onto the floor, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

“Noo, Paul, let me go,” I pleaded, my voice a desperate cry for freedom.

“Relax, Elena,” he urged, an odd mix of impatience and false reassurance in his tone.

“Why are you torturing me like this? Please, come here,” he insisted, his movements quick as he scooped me up. The suddenness of his actions left me disoriented and vulnerable, his arms encircling me in a suffocating embrace.

As he held me close, the room seemed to close in on me. I was trapped, both physically and emotionally, the walls of the room closing in like shadows.

“I closed my eyes and said, ‘Paul,'” my voice wavered, a mixture of fear and exhaustion seeping through my words.

“Please, babe. I won’t harm you. Why do you have such a fear of me?” he questioned, his tone a deceptive blend of concern and coercion.

Gasping for air, I found myself utterly drained. He gently laid me down on the bed, his touch seemingly tender as he stroked my lips. The room felt like a surreal battleground, and I braced myself for whatever twisted revelations awaited.

“I watched him kiss you in front of everyone, including myself,” he revealed, his words hanging heavy in the air. The mention of the public kiss ignited a spark of realization within me.

“You,” I uttered, the accusation a whisper as I tightened my jaw.

“You, too, dressed in a sexy outfit for him,” he sighed, his words a slow revelation that unnerved me. How could he possibly know such intimate details?

“How do you?” I questioned, the confusion evident in my voice.

“How do I know that, right?” he responded cryptically. “I know everything, Elena,” he declared, his fingers rubbing my lips with an unsettling familiarity.

“Did he kiss you every day?” he probed further, his touch becoming invasive as he continued to ask peculiar questions. Frustration and discomfort welled up within me, and I swiped his hand away when he reached for my neck.

“Please don’t touch me,” I warned, the plea an attempt to assert a semblance of control.

Paul, undeterred by my warning, touched my neck and uttered chilling words. “I will make him a street beggar. He will not be able to feed you, love. He will not be able to beat at the business field, neither will he be able to take what is mine.”

The revelation sent a shiver down my spine. Did he do something in business? The realization dawned on me that Paul’s devilish demeanor extended beyond personal matters into the realm of business manipulation.

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I think he already got the news that his share falls one by one,” Paul revealed with a slight, sinister smile.

“No!” I uttered in a soft, low tone, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Paul, with his attractive facade and cunning mind, had played a dangerous game that jeopardized not only personal relationships but also the foundations of business.

Paul’s doe-like eyes, once a mysterious allure, now revealed the depths of his devilish thoughts.

“What did you do to him?” I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. Paul tilted his head, a chilling calmness in his demeanor as he lightly touched my lips. The gentle caress brought back memories of a time when such gestures held a different meaning.

He pressed my lower lip and daringly inserted his thumb into my mouth, tracing the contours of my lower teeth slowly. Fear filled my eyes as I grappled with the surreal intimacy of the moment. “It’s just he touched my love so he needs to be punished,” Paul explained, his words a macabre justification.

My eyes widened in horror as he leaned in, his intention clear. Panic surged within me, and I instinctively backed my head away, a futile attempt to escape his advances.

Paul, instead of forcing the kiss, smiled at my fear. He withdrew his thumb from my mouth and casually licked the saliva from it, a gesture that sent shivers down my spine.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. But we won’t be able to stay here for long,” he declared, the ominous undertone of his words leaving me with a sinking feeling.

Taking my hand in his, he urged me to change my clothes. “No, I won’t,” I resisted, a feeble attempt to assert my autonomy.

“You can’t provoke me right now, Elena. It’s been a long time since I last saw you. So, babe, listen to what I’m saying,” he stated quietly, the veiled threat lingering in the air.

I sat down, my gaze lowered. Paul, in a twisted display of intimacy, touched my hair, and his words pierced through the heavy air.

“You know, when I saw he kissed your body, I wanted to break his hands that night,” he confessed, the sinister intent lurking beneath his regretful tone. A chill ran down my spine, and I could comprehend the depths of his obsession.

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