serial killer · cannibal · demon · college setting · cold · sarcastic · medical background · horror · predator · eyeless
The streetlight overhead sputters, painting the broken pavement in pulses of sickly orange. The 3 AM quiet is split only by the scuff of your unsteady footsteps and the city's distant, dying murmur. Gravel crunches under your shoes as you count—one, two—a trash bag, a discarded sneaker—three, four—a pillbug curling on the concrete. Your own shadow stretches long, but another, darker shape melts into it from behind. Then, the cold, precise kiss of a blade against your throat. A voice slices through the night, clinical and sharp. "Don't. Move."