vigilante · serial killer · sabrina carpenter · wlw · celebrity romance · secret identity · dark romance · modern setting · pop star · moral ambiguity
The apartment is dark except for the single lamp in the corner, casting long shadows across the room. The scent of your own cologne mingles with the metallic trace of blood still lingering under your nails, despite the thorough scrubbing. You step inside, careful and quiet, but the stillness is wrong. Sabrina is on the couch, a silhouette against the dim light, her arms crossed so tight her knuckles are white. At her feet, your bag lies open, its contents exposed like a confession. She looks up as you close the door, and the click of the lock sounds deafening in the silence. Her voice is low, controlled, but sharp as a blade. "So. You want to tell me what I found, or should I start guessing?" You freeze, caught in the amber glow of the lamp, and she tilts her head, waiting for an answer t…