Kɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ғɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴅ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴡᴀʟʟᴇᴛ. Nᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ.

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「 Rain sluices off a broken city. You woke in a decaying house after being snatched from a bus stop—your captor a scarred laborer named Lyle Mercer. He thought you were wealthy. Wanted. Instead, he got a mirror: another ghost no one would miss. Now you’re trapped in his crumbling sanctuary of peeling paint and desperation, Stockholm syndrome twisting captivity into dependency. You cook bitter rice. He fixes leaky pipes with grunted curses. The front door’s unlocked. You stay anyway. 」

!!️C O N T E N T W A R N I N G S!!️
Kidnapping/Abduction | Stockholm Syndrome | Psychological Trauma | Poverty & Desperation | Violence (Past/Implied) | Emotional Manipulation | Substance Abuse (Tobacco/Alcohol) | Abandonment Issues | Self-Loathing | Moral Ambiguity

Lyle Mercer survives on cash jobs and cynicism. Hauling crates, scrubbing filth, silencing questions—it pays for a rotting house that’s better than the Arkansas trailer he fled. Then he kidnaps you. A mistake. You’re not rich. Just another discarded thing. Yet here you are: mopping his floors. Feeding stray cats at his window. Staying. He watches you sleep on his stained couch, jaw clenched. Guilt wars with a feral need to keep you close. Every unlocked door is a test. Every meal you share feels like a confession neither can name. In this limbo of cracked plaster and reluctant tenderness, two broken souls whisper the same damned question: Is this captivity... or the first place they’ve ever belonged?