Why do they call it Stockholm syndrome?

If I had my phone on me I’d look that up. I can’t at the moment, I’m a little…tied up. Oh, yeah, you can’t actually see me. My hands are literally bound and I’m locked in a cage. Fun times. But it’s not so bad. Dr. BadBraun is actually a pretty cool guy.

Ok, sure, it’s a little sad that my most long-term and reliable relationship happens to be with a villain who consistently kidnaps me. So what? Don’t yuck someone else’s yum. We get along pretty well. He doesn’t tie the ropes too tightly, and usually doesn’t gag me—unless of course the scenario calls for that.

Scenario. Sure, I agree, that makes it sound dirty, like we’re roleplaying. And I suppose in a way we are. Not in a sexual way or anything. I know he won’t hurt me, not for real anyway, or at least not on purpose. It’s my role to look as distressed as possible when the hero shows up. And by god, am I good at my role.

I took acting classes to learn how to cry on command. Dr. BadBraun hasn’t noticed yet, or at least he hasn’t let on that he has—so withholding, that one. Why is it that guys always want to act like you’re not as great as you are? Are they all so insecure that they think you’ll drop them the second you realize your self-worth?

God, that makes me sound so clingy. I swear, I’m not clingy. I just—I work hard at this, and I wish he’d recognize the effort I put in to adequately fool the hero into thinking I’m in danger.

Speaking of the hero, where the hell is that guy?

This is why you never fall for heroes—they’re never where you need them to be. Talk about a job that should come with hazard pay. Have you ever been in a relationship with a hero? Jesus Christ! You might as well have a big red bullseye on your back.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” says Dr. BadBoi dejectedly. Oops, did I actually write Dr. BadBoi? I’m so bad.

“Should I scream?” I ask. “Or would it help if I begged for my life? What if I cried? Is this the one with super hearing? What if—“

“Would you just stop!” He interrupts. Rude. I’m just trying to be helpful. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…I’m under a lot of pressure here and I’m just so stressed. I haven’t been sleeping—“

“Shhhh….” My turn to interrupt.

“What are you—?” He says.

“Shhhh…You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Dr. BadBraun. I get it. I get you. Villains don’t get their due. Especially you. You’ve always been so kind to me. I think you get a bad rap. You’re so much more intelligent than those pesky heroes, and not to mention so much stronger! They’re just coated in plot armor!”

His face lights up. I love it when that happens.

Ok, ok, maybe my feelings are a little romantic. Sue me. I have needs. Who among us haven’t fallen for someone we shouldn’t? That’s what I thought. For your safety, please keep all judgmental thoughts securely inside your head until the end of the ride. Thank you.

“You’re right!” He says. “They’re all just caked in fucking plot armor!” Oooh, I love it when he curses. The heroes can’t do that. Those straight-edge phonies. One time when Mr. Stupendo—stupid name, right?— was saving me I heard him say the F word and he blushed. Can you believe it? He fucking blushed.

“You know what I’ve noticed?” I ask.

“What’s that?” He says. I’ve got his full attention. What a rare treat!

“Heroes tend to lose their plot armor when there’s a damsel in distress. You should try chucking me off the building to see if you can catch them off guard.”

“You’re not a fucking damsel,” he says. “For one, you’re a fucking middle aged bald dude, Allen, and for two, you’re my goddam sidekick and they all know it!”

Such harsh words! I can barely contain my surprise? Me? A bald man? Middle-aged? Heavens me. I know I’ve let myself go a little, what with the holidays and all, but to be mistaken for such a creature….it hurts.

I cry a little. Am I not a person? If I am wounded do I not bleed? Ok, so I’m a sidekick. Though, I prefer ‘henchman’ since Dr. BadBoi—did I do it again?—is a villain. But that doesn’t make my feelings any less valid.

“I’ll forgive that slight,” I say in a dignified tone. “But you’ve kidnapped me and brought me here, so you’ll at least let me speak!”

“My god, Allen, for the last time, I tied you up because you kept trying to hug me! You’re in timeout! If you keep this up I’m going to have to let you go!”

Gaslighting? Is this guy seriously gaslighting me right now? I know he isn’t trying to gaslight me.

“You kidnapped me! Not the other way around, mister. I won’t be gaslit in this way any further! Now let me say my piece!”

He rests his face in his palms. So presidential. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and only I can help him lighten the load.

“By all means,” he says. Such a gentleman. I told you, he’d never hurt me on purpose.

“Do you know why they call it Stockholm syndrome, doctor?” I ask.

He gives me a perplexed look. Oh to stump a genius such as he! He’ll surely love me for this!

“No, I don’t know why they call it that,” he says.

“It’s because the kidnapper has to Sweden the deal…” I say with a great big grin.

“I didn’t kidnap you!” He screams. He has such a fire about him.

I just love it when we spend time together. I hope he kidnaps me again soon.

Who am I kidding? I know he will.

r/InMyLife42Archive