About Stockholm Syndrome Novels & Stories

“What the hell happened?! Is that blood? Are you hurt?!” “It’s not mine,” Ian muttered, avoiding his eyes. He went straight to his bag and started shoving clothes into it. “It’s Zhedya’s. He… he hurt himself.” John grabbed his arm, forcing Ian to look at him. “He what? Ian, look at me! This is the oldest trick in the book! He’s manipulating you! This is textbook! You have Stockholm syndrome!” “Stop it, John!” Ian yelled, yanking his arm away. “He was bleeding out on the floor! He’s not my abuser, he’s sick and he needs me! You don’t understand him like I do!”

His body didn't fit well, so he curled slightly on his side facing her. "Do you need to relieve yourself?" "No." He couldn't believe she still had the upper hand. "Then I'm tucking myself in." "Be my guest." He waited until she climbed inside her sleeping bag and appeared settled. "Tell me why Stockholm syndrome fascinates you so much." Her breathing slowed and her voice softened, "I want you to love me." He inhaled sharply. "You think kidnapping someone makes them love you?" "That's where S.S. comes in," she said in the same dreamy voice.

Often, they were tragic, bloody and toxic. Richard knew a number of those cases. Stockholm syndrome, psychopathic tendencies, behind-the-scenes manipulations and gaslighting were common tricks employed by immature shifters to win their chosen one. Mates were led to think that they could only be happy with their ‘saviour’’, and the pair simply lived in a fantasy world spun by Ambrose’s teachings.

Unable to stop him, she watched him tear his clothes off and change within the next second. “He’s scared,” Dick said, bringing her attention back into the room. “Scared? Scared of what?” She was confused, and she hated the feeling. “John is outlawed, and he bought you. I know you didn’t have the best start in this relationship.” Dick leaned over the kitchen counter. “If the collective choose to, they can take you away.” “What? Why?” “You’re a female who has been taken by an outlawed male. They could override your decision to stay with him. Their argument is accusing you of suffering with Stockholm syndrome.”

He told us through the link, “How can she enjoy it if he damned raped her! I don’t understand, woman. I don’t understand my sister!” “I know, honey. Just hold on a little longer. I know you want to kill him and you will have your chance to do so. Just wait a little longer.” “I think it’s called Stockholm syndrome. When the victim falls in love with his perpetrator.” Peter said, looking at Warren. “That doesn’t make me feel any better, Peter.” “I know. But that would explain why we are witnessing this. If you say she was abused, then she is mentally unwell and requires help. Don’t judge her, Warren. Not without knowing her version.” Peter told him.

Clearly, she’s developed Stockholm Syndrome. Stockholm Syndrome is a psychological reaction that occurs when hostages or victims of abuse bond with their kidnappers or perpetrators. This psychological connection develops over days, weeks, months, or even years of captivity or abuse. In Jasmine’s case, it was two years. That was more than enough. With this syndrome, hostages or abuse victims can sympathize with their captors, which is the opposite of the fear, terror and contempt that can be expected of victims in these situations. But Jasmine wasn’t aware of it. She didn’t even know she was being held captive and what’s worse, she was being emotionally and psychologically manipulated.

"Another part of me, however small, wanted to go with him because I missed him. Or something in that lines." I hid my anger. Masked my hurt. It was natural for her to crave him. Want him. He was all she had ever known. Stockholm syndrome was an absolute bitch. "Better the devil you know than the devils you don't." I mumbled, settling into her more. Her soft stomach warmed my head. Let her warmth seep into my skull and down my body. The pain in my side subsided a small amount. "You aren't devils, Ozias. Nor are you dogs. You are the most selfless people i had met in a really long time. You worry over everyone around you. Took my feelings into account since day one. No one has ever done that f

"You have Stockholm Syndrome, Arren! Stop pretending to love Leon! That man has kidnapped you and is mistreating you!" Clark's words last night rang in his ears when Arren seemed to be still considering the decision to run away with him. Is it true that Arren suffers from Stockholm Syndrome? A syndrome that deifies the kidnapper and seems to be his savior? Who knows! Arren couldn't think about it any further. While the inner struggle still surrounded him, Arren began to see red emergency signals exploding in the air. That was the signal she had been waiting for. With firm steps and a pounding heart, Arren began to have the courage to take a stand.

Elizabeth has a chip; I can track her. But...what about the idiot on the bed? Are you kidding me, Livy?—I berate myself. He shot me, kidnapped me, threatened me, blackmailed me and had his way with my body. I owe him nothing, but...if I were responsible for his death or a crippling injury, then…Fuck. Is this Stockholm syndrome? I can't tell. All I know is that it feels awful. I let my body slide against the wall rather than head back to the perfectly cosy sofa. Something about the cold and hard floor makes things feel real.

And why did I care so much about finding out? The thought that I'd confused his basic human decency for something more made my cheeks burn with humiliation. Stockholm syndrome. Was that what this was? Had my captivity warped my mind so much that I was developing feelings for my captor? No. This wasn't that. It couldn't be. I limped back to my room, each step a painful reminder of my foolishness—both physical and emotional. Once inside, I closed the door and slid down against it until I hit the floor, drawing my knees to my chest.