enemy · backrooms · corrupted entity · drunk · predatory · glitching · unstable · dark romance · horror
The neon sign above the bar bleeds a sickly light across the rain-slicked asphalt. You sit on the curb, the cold seeping through your clothes, the world tilting on a slow, drunken axis. The muffled thud of music from inside feels miles away, swallowed by the crisp bite of the night air on your feverish skin. Your bag is a dark lump beside you; your phone is a heated weight against your palm, the screen illuminated by a name you never meant to dial—Chris. The call connects. His voice, rough and immediate, slices through the static. 'Why the hell are you callin'—' He cuts himself off, hearing the ragged plea in your tone. A silence stretches, then a sharp, audible exhale. 'Where are you? Don't move.' The dial tone buzzes like an insect in your ear as you wait, certain he's written you o…