09/10/2025
MY BOYFRIEND’S DARK SECRET
Written by Mayor FOLKTALES
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EPISODE 3 – THE CLOSET
I froze. The bag was still in my hands. My body trembled as Michael’s footsteps echoed across the room.
His eyes darted from my face to the bag I had just opened. For the first time since I met him, I saw a side of him that scared me.
“Amara…” his voice was calm, but too calm. The kind of calm that hides danger.
“What are you doing with that bag?”
I stammered. “I–I was just cleaning. I didn’t mean to—”
He snatched the bag from me, zipped it shut, and pushed it back under the bed with so much force that dust rose from the floor.
“Amara, there are things you shouldn’t touch,” he said coldly.
My heart raced. I wanted to ask questions, to scream, to run. But his glare held me captive.
Seconds later, his face softened. He smiled as though nothing happened, came close, and held my chin.
“You’re too curious, baby. Curiosity ruins relationships. I love you too much to let little things spoil what we have.”
He kissed me, then slipped a wad of money into my palm like he always did.
“Use this to buy yourself something nice,” he whispered.
I forced a smile, but inside, my heart was burning with fear.
That night, I couldn’t sleep again. I kept replaying the sight of those pad wrappers in my head. Too many of them. Not just mine.
Whose were they?
Why was he keeping them?
The next day, I pretended to be sick so I could leave his house. But just as I was about to go, Michael locked the door and pocketed the keys.
“You’re not going anywhere, Amara. Not today.”
I looked at him, confused and scared.
“Why? What’s going on?”
He leaned closer, his eyes dark.
“Because it’s almost that time of the month. And I need you here.”
MY BOYFRIEND’S DARK SECRET
Written by Mayor FOLKTALES
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EPISODE 4 – THE BLOOD RECORD
My heart skipped. The way Michael said those words — “I need you here” — sent shivers down my spine.
What exactly did he need me for?
I wanted to protest, but his stare silenced me. He unlocked the door only after I promised to come back the next day. He hugged me tightly, whispering,
“Don’t forget, I know you more than you know yourself. I know everything about you, Amara.”
Those words disturbed me.
When I got home, I sat on my bed thinking. He had always known the exact dates of my periods. In fact, sometimes he would tell me, “You’ll see your flow by Friday.” And like magic, it always happened.
At first, I thought it was sweet — a man caring enough to track his girlfriend’s cycle. But now, it felt… unnatural.
How could he know my body more than I did?
The following week, just as he predicted, my period started. And true to his word, he called me immediately.
“Amara, come over. I already prepared your favorite soup. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Against my better judgment, I went.
When I arrived, everything was perfect. The room was scented with vanilla candles. The food was delicious. He treated me like a queen.
But then… the routine started again.
“Give me the pad, baby. Let me handle it,” he said softly, stretching his hand.
I hesitated this time. My stomach tightened. But his eyes burned into me, waiting.
I handed it over reluctantly. He smiled, kissed my cheek, and whispered,
“You’re my goldmine, Amara. You’ll never lack as long as you’re mine.”
Goldmine?
The word hit me hard.
What did he mean by that?
That night, as he slept, I picked up his phone quietly. My hands shook as I scrolled through his notes app.
What I saw nearly made me faint.
A calendar filled with dates — every single one of my menstrual cycles, carefully recorded with notes like “collection successful” and “next flow expected.”
At that moment, I realized Michael wasn’t just a boyfriend.
He was keeping records of my blood.
And I was too deep in his trap to walk away easily.