Trapped

My name is Comfort, and my story is one of love bound by chains, a love that should have set me free but instead dragged me into the darkest corners of my soul. I was only twenty-two when I met him, Michael a charming, confident, and charismatic man who seemed to understand me in ways no one else could. We shared long conversations that would last for hours, our laughter echoing in the quiet of the night. Michael was everything I had ever dreamed of someone who promised me the world, who made me feel seen, special, and loved. But behind the smile, behind the promises, was a darkness that I couldn’t see.

The first time Michael spoke of the blood covenant, I laughed it off as a joke, something I couldn’t take seriously. We had been together for a year, and our bond had grown so strong that I believed nothing could tear us apart. But Michael’s gaze darkened as he spoke about it, a look in his eyes that made me feel uneasy, as if something else lay beneath the surface. "Our love is special," he said one evening, holding my hands tightly in his. "We’re meant to be together forever. To seal this, we’ll make a pact. A blood pact. A covenant that will bind us for eternity." My heart skipped a beat. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, but Michael's words were so convincing, so filled with passion, that I couldn’t bring myself to question him.

One night, when the moon hung high and the air was thick with silence, we did it. We stood in the darkened room, a candle flickering on the table between us. Michael had a small knife, sharp and glinting in the dim light. He carefully cut a small slit on his palm, then turned to me, his eyes intense and desperate. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. And in that moment, in the madness of my love for him, I said yes. I allowed him to take my hand and slice it open. The blood flowed freely, mingling with his as we sealed our fates. It was meant to be a symbol of our eternal love, a connection stronger than anything else, or so I believed.

But the days following the blood covenant were filled with a strange heaviness I couldn’t explain. The joy I once felt with Michael was now replaced by a sense of dread, an overwhelming weight that pressed down on my chest. Michael began to change. The tenderness he had once shown me was replaced by fits of jealousy, possessiveness, and control. He started showing up unannounced, checking my phone, demanding to know where I was at all times. I tried to ignore it at first, convincing myself that it was just the intensity of his love. But the truth was undeniable: Michael was becoming someone else someone I feared. The love that once made me feel safe now felt like a trap, and the walls around me were closing in.

It wasn’t long before I started to question everything. The pain in my chest when Michael was away, the anxiety that gnawed at me when he was near, the suffocating feeling that never seemed to leave. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t escape it. The blood covenant held me prisoner in a way that went beyond physical bonds. It was as if a part of my soul had been tied to his, bound by a force I couldn’t comprehend. Every time I thought about leaving, I felt an invisible pull back toward him, a magnetic force that drew me in no matter how much I longed to break free.

One evening, in the quiet of our apartment, the truth came crashing down. Michael had been drinking, his eyes glazed and angry. "You’re mine," he hissed, his voice venomous, filled with a rage that I had never seen before. "You belong to me. Forever. You think you can walk away from this? From us? You’re stuck. You made that choice the moment you cut yourself open. You’re mine." His words were a blade to my heart. It was then that I realized the terrible reality of the covenant we had made. It wasn’t a promise of love; it was a promise of ownership, of control, of suffocating, unrelenting power. The blood we had shared was not a bond of equality; it was a chain that held me captive.

I tried to fight it, to break free, but every attempt was futile. I couldn’t shake the image of his face, the way he looked at me with such a possessive, unyielding gaze. The guilt and shame began to consume me. I felt trapped in a life I never wanted, in a love that was not love at all but a twisted, toxic force that drained the life out of me. I would cry myself to sleep every night, praying for the courage to leave, but the pull of the blood covenant was too strong. I was bound to him, and the more I tried to resist, the more I felt myself slipping into the abyss.

My friends noticed the change in me the hollow look in my eyes, the quiet withdrawal, and the bruises that appeared on my arms when Michael's temper flared. But I could never bring myself to tell them the truth. I was ashamed, believing that I had made a choice that I could never undo. The blood covenant had made me feel like I owed him everything, that I could never escape, no matter how much I wanted to.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. My life became a blur of pain and longing, trapped between the love I had once felt and the man who now controlled my every move. I was a prisoner in my own heart, forever bound by a promise that had never been what it seemed.

And in the darkest hours of the night, when I lay awake, tears streaming down my face, I would whisper to myself, "How did I get here? How did I let this happen?" But the answer was always the same: Love. Love, twisted and manipulated, had led me to this place, a place where the only thing that mattered was breaking free, even though I didn’t know how.

The blood covenant that had once seemed like an expression of love had become my nightmare, a constant reminder that sometimes, the chains that bind us are not always visible. And I, trapped in the agony of my own choices, could only wait for the day when the blood that once promised eternal love would finally set me free.