My eyes fluttered open. I looked around the room and I don't know where I am. I've never seen this place before. Who's bed am I in? Who's clothes? I'm wearing an oversize, plain black sweater and white crew socks. A pair of black leggings were on the edge of the bed.
I swung my legs off the bed and held my head. God, this shit hurts. The room I'm in is plain but beautiful. I got up and stumbled to the door. Once I stepped out I heard a tv in the distance, I followed the sound and saw a man on the couch attentively watching the tv. I turned around to go back to the room until he said something."Come here." He said in a deep sleepy voice.
I don't know him. I've never seen him before.
"Taylor."
I shook my head and ran to the room and slammed the door locking it. My heart is beating out my chest and I need to think, how am I going to get out? I don't know my way around this place. If I did, I would've ran out the door instead of running to this room. There's a window here, maybe I can climb out.
I looked out and was taken away by a beautiful view of the city. What city? This place doesn't look familiar at all. I can't remember anything from last night. Maybe I'm just trippin'.Knock knock.
"Taylor I'll explain everything to you. Just open up. I know you want answers."
I do want answers...
I slowly opened the door and let him in. He approached me slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed with a glass of orange juice and handed it to me.
"My name is Bryson Tiller." He said. "I know it doesn't ring a bell but it will soon."
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Stockholm (Bryson Tiller)
FanfictionEven if it's mine, even if it isn't... Stock·holm syn·drome noun feelings of trust or affection felt in certain cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim toward a captor. ⚠️ THIS STORY IS EXTREMELY EXPLICIT AND CONTAINS LOTS OF SENSITIVE TOP...