Stockholm Syndrome Stories Novelas e Histórias

" Silence. Then footsteps walking away. I sat there. Crying. Processing. Everything I'd started to feel for him. The hope. The possibility. The belief that maybe we could make this work. All of it was built on lies. On false evidence. On circumstances that never should have existed. I'd been falling for my jailer. Developing feelings for the man who'd imprisoned me based on fabricated evidence. How could I trust anything I felt now? How could I know what was real and what was just a survival instinct? What is Stockholm syndrome? A last-ditch effort to make a bad situation bearable?

“You’re truly the worst kidnapper I’ve ever met.” His eyes flashed before he looked away to continue washing off the priest’s blood on his chest. “Coming fromthe girl who gives all captives a bad name. Spreading your sunshine all over my house, apologizing every step of the way. Let’s not forget the part where you came to your kidnapper’s room and begged himto fuck you. At least you’re not a cliché.” Heat washed up my back. “It’s called Stockholm syndrome. What’s your excuse? Mobster Decency Disorder?”