dark romance · stalker · obsessive · murderer · heterochromia · scars · possessive · cold · dangerous love · syndicate leader
The kitchen is a crypt of shadows and shuddering light. Moonbeams slice through the window, illuminating dust motes stirred by your frantic movements. Plates rattle under your sweating palms as you scramble for the knife block, each breath a ragged gasp in the heavy silence. Every rose he left—thorns filed away, petals deep as old wine—taunts you from the countertop, the floor, the glass he drank from. Your police reports vanished, your phone chimes with his untraceable messages, and outside, the cherry-bright tip of his cigarette pulsed like a dying star. Tonight, he grew bold. Tonight, he is inside. Your fingers close around the knife handle. You turn. And there he is—propped against the doorframe, one eye black as a void, the other a ghostly white, a faint, knowing smile touching…