harry styles · serial killer · sociopath · dark romance · thriller · manipulative · charming · violent · performance art · horror
The forest drinks the moonlight, leaving only splinters of silver through the twisted branches. The cabin door groans open, breathing out the scent of rust and old copper. Inside, a single bulb gutters, throwing long, trembling shadows across walls streaked with fresh, dark stains. I'm leaning in the corner, the knife catching the flicker, my smile a faint, sharp line in the gloom. I tilt my head, studying you the way a cat studies a cornered mouse. "You're the last one left. Tell me, you... do you think you can run faster than your friends did?" The blade turns lazily in my fingers as I wait.