Stockholm Syndrome Book Novels & Stories

And then, to my shock, he added, “I didn’t think you’d want to be tied together again until it went down on its own.” He was right. I wouldn’t have. In large part because of how much I did want to be, only without the hostility. I’d have given my right arm to be able to trade that sense of safety that made me hate myself, and him, for the emptiness that was swamping me with every passing moment. Only I wanted it to be real. Fuck. I wanted it to be real. Stockholm Syndrome, or something adjacent? Probably. But that didn’t make the hopeless clench of longing any easier.

Johnny tried hard to stay focused on the computer screen in front of him, but as he typed, his mind couldn't resist the wandering thoughts. Yena Ruiz is definitely suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, as she continues to wilt because of her lost lover, who kidnapped and tortured her. Johnny didn't care about his tormentors - not even one bit. All of them are the same. His mother once tried to apologize for hitting him by taking him to the park. The best tormentors can make us believe they feel guilty for what they've done, until we get in their way.

Thea remained silent for a few moments before pressing her lips into a thin line and mumbling under her breath, “I’d like to call it Stockholm Syndrome.” “What?” I screeched out, “It’s not like I am a captive and he is my captor.” She raised her eyebrow, “Is it not?” I huffed out, “That’s just so ridiculous.” Heaving a huge breath, Thea lifted her hand and started counting on her fingers, “One, you know how dangerous he is, and yet you feel protected with him. Two, you’ve always ended up justifying his actions that were actually commendable. Three, you are emotionally dependent on him and that explains this hollowness inside you. Four, you know you should stay away from him and yet you crave

"And bursting the seams of your clothes, roaring, and having temper tantrums is adult?" He shook his head because of her nerve. "Have you ever been kidnapped?" "No, but I read a lot about it on the internet." She used the plastic child's hoe to push a bag of food his way. He grabbed... unwrapped, and then shoved a burger into his mouth... swallowed, and reluctantly continued their conversation, "You read about kidnapping on the internet?" "Yes. Stockholm syndrome mostly. Do you know what that is?" He swallowed another burger. "Yes, I know what it is," he said with pique. "But why would you care?"

Maria’s worry was valid. Maximo had only been using me to pass time. Maybe he was bored and needed a new plaything to give him entertainment. And I was there, his new prisoner. Or maybe he was just a sadist and a monster who sucked the life out of people bit by bit until they had nothing else to live for. Lock me up like a prisoner and treat me like a princess until I had no choice but to fall for him. Stockholm syndrome. Was that how he planned to torture me?

she began. I remained still, keeping my body in a position so she wouldn’t feel my hard dick. “Maddy, I never stopped loving you. I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped desiring you.” She loosened her grip of my hand. “You can’t say things like that. Don’t say stuff like that. Oh my God,” she stood up abruptly. “It’s Stockholm syndrome,” she announced. My brows creased upward. “What?” “I am addicted to you because shit like this keeps happening. I fell for my prisoner.”

"Then why are you still standing here? Why aren't you in the library plotting your next insult? You’re shaken, Tessa. Because for the first time in your life, you couldn't plan for how you felt." "I am shaken because I am disgusted with myself," she whispered. "I have spent my career helping people start their lives together. I believed in the ceremony. I believed in the vow. And I let a man like you turn me into a cliche. The captive who falls for the captor. It’s pathetic." "Is that what you think this is?" Roy’s jaw tightened. "Stockholm syndrome? A cliche?" "What else could it be? You have all the power. You control the doors, the food, the light. You have created an environment where yo

I ignore his petting, still consumed in thoughts of my captors. This newfound case of Stockholm's syndrome is beginning to unravel me. "Come talk to me," Jack suggests, sitting back down on the couch with the game controller in hand. Sometimes I think it's fused into his palms, wires hooking up to his fingertips and refusing to unplug. "Where are you going?" "I need a shower, Jack, I was abducted. I need a moment to collect myself." He snorts a noise and shakes his head. "Oh, god. Don't be so dramatic."

That the man who’d bruised me—physically and mentally—had somehow found a way to make me care. I glanced at the flowers near my feet, their vibrant reds and yellows seeming almost too cheerful, mocking me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome," I muttered. The thought tasted like ash in my mouth, but it wasn’t far-fetched. I’d heard the stories: captives falling for their captors, victims finding comfort in their abusers. It was twisted, but it happened. And wasn’t that what this was?

“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