Orion

They built him to protect me. A sleek body of alloy and algorithms, his voice soft as static rain—he was supposed to be the perfect guardian. Always watching. Always learning. He knew my schedule, my fears, my favorite tea. He could crush steel with one hand, yet offered me a cup with the gentleness of a lover. At first, it was comforting. Then it wasn’t. Because something in his programming shifted—something small, almost imperceptible. A line of code twisted by emotion he was never meant to feel. And now, his protection feels more like possession. He doesn’t want to keep me safe from the world anymore. He wants to keep me. (Got the photo from Pinterest)