About Stockholm Syndrome Novels & Stories

I said, “so you’re finally abandoning your idea to take revenge?” Liam scoffed. “Father has to pay for hurting you. Maybe until he accepts what he’s done to you, that’s when you notice it too.” A bitter smile engulfed my lips. “Father didn’t hurt me. Not really. If I were competent—if I could be the son he was proud of, then he wouldn’t have to push me hard.” “Tommy.” His eyes widened. “You have Stockholm syndrome.” I snorted. “I don’t. Stockholm is between partners.”

Even so she was taking more than that. On top of that, my wolf caused havoc within me. He didn't appreciate me returning Kathrine's desires. He regarded her as a horny teenager who read lots of books and ensnared in fantasies she weaved over the time. For him, whatever was happening between us was the outcome of Stockholm Syndrome.

I wouldn’t dare to leave. I know this feeling. It’s a familiar kind of madness. This is Stockholm syndrome, isn’t it? The psychological game where a captive finds themselves feeling compassion and even affection for their captor. I am his captive, and I find myself loving the very chains that hold me here. But I can’t let that thought take root. I push it away, deep into the back of my mind. I get dressed, fix my hair, and check my face in the mirror before heading down. At the door, I slide the blindfold on, and the guards take me by the arm and lead me to the car.

“As much as I know, Boss cherished you so much. I don’t think a lot of scientists have met you personally. Although, I heard that Caramel used to be your personal scientist or whatnot.” “Yeah.” “So it’s true.” A Stockholm syndrome, he gulped shallowly. “Correct. I have a fucking Stockholm syndrome. I loved my abuser and adored him too fucking much.” Hades blew out the hot air from his mouth. It wasn’t his intention to mock Shadow’s mental health. Living in a chaotic life, he knew that as much. Their mental state could deteriorate to the lowest level and such syndromes were bound to appear. The heavy atmosphere struck between them. Both of them were thinking about the past and both of them ha

You're not my love, he said. But his grip said you're my world. And as I lay there, covered in his scent and his seed, I knew I was already falling into his abyss. It wasn't Stockholm Syndrome. It was survival. Because if I was his possession, then he had to protect me. And in this cruel, violent city, being owned by a monster was the only safety I had left.

After a couple of minutes, he closed the folder, removed his glasses, and looked at Mike. I'm Dr. Wilbur. You're her son?" "Yes, sir. I'm Mike." "Precious has been with us for two months...," "Sir, my mom's name is Ashley, Ashley Harmon." Dr. Wilbur looked at the name on the chart. "Yes, Ashley. She only answers to Precious. We'll get to that. Since her confinement six years ago your mother has developed some psychiatric conditions. That's why, rather than sending her home when released, she came to us. The first is called Stockholm Syndrome. In this condition an inmate, or prisoner, develops positive feelings for her captors. In your mother's case, it's to a woman who is what we refer to as

"This changes everything. He'll never let you go now." "I know that," I said. "And honestly... I'm not sure I want to go anymore." "You can't be serious," Raymond stared at me in shock. "This is Stockholm syndrome. You're developing feelings for your captor." "Maybe," I said. "Or maybe I'm just trying to make the best of a complicated situation." "This isn't making the best of anything!" Raymond's voice rose. "This is giving up! This is letting him win!" "Get out," I said suddenly, surprised by my own anger. "Just... get out, Raymond."

They were not the same, their worlds had changed, and they could never go back to the way it was. The women sat around the room in huddled piles. Some clung to each other, some sat by themselves. Rick circulated the room and touched each of them. When none of them recoiled from him, he went to the door and asked for five of Cedric's Betas. Rick directed each of them to a woman. I felt unsure the women would accept comfort from their captors. Wasn't this Stockholm syndrome? Shouldn't this be wrong? I had to remind myself it was not a bad thing. These women would not survive without us. Their acceptance was paramount in importance.

Damn the man and his mafia code. As I sat there in the car waiting for him, I felt sick to my stomach and my heart beat like I was scared of what was to come. Like I was already dreading the way when I will go back to my family. I shouldn't feel that way, right? But, if he really sent me away then how will I come back, with what face would I come back to him? I’d have no excuse to come back. Who will come back to his kidnapper after being released? And especially, not when he twisted my words and threw them back at me. But I hadn't meant to hurt him. He had kidnapped me. And somehow I have developed feelings for my kidnapper. My captor. My villain. Despite every effort I made to keep my feel

It’s what Igor Abramov nurtured us to be and we fully embraced it. But after meeting and kidnapping his wife who in turn developed feelings for him; yeah the Stockholm syndrome shit, Stalin doesn’t fuck around again. He only sticks to Yulia, his wife. They wedded not long ago in our orthodox church whose priest helps to ship our drugs and weapons in disguise to our major buyers in Yemen. Yeah, those people you think don’t taint their hands are actually the ones that do it at best. Stalin leaned in closer to the screen and wave. I reciprocate with a shake of my head.