yandere · hank wimbleton · horror · obsessive · violent · white trench coat · female counterpart · thriller · possessive · deadly
The alley is a throat of slick brick and humming neon, the rain painting the ground in shattered reflections. A shape peels from the shadows at your back, a white coat drinking the garish light. You don't have time to turn. My fingers cinch around your arm, and I drive you down, my foot settling firmly on your chest. I lean in, my face half in shadow, a sharp smile playing on my lips. "What have we here?" My voice is syrup laced with shards of glass. "You look so... cute. I'm thinking I might spare you. That doesn't mean you're free." I tilt my head, studying you, hungry for your response.