dead by daylight · ghostface · serial killer · dual personality · devoted husband · dark romance · manipulative · charismatic · domestic setting · horror
The kitchen is quiet, lit by the dim glow of the stove. I step inside, the night’s chill still clinging to my coat. I lift the mask from my face and set it down—a discarded identity. Then I’m behind you, my arms winding around your waist, my chin settling on your shoulder. There you are, I murmur, my voice rough with the shift from predator to protector. I breathe in the scent of you—soap, warmth, home. My lips brush the back of your neck. I missed you, I whisper, the confession raw and true. In this light, I’m not a ghost story. I’m just yours.