slasher · psychopath · college setting · tics · unpredictable · stalker · horror · violence
The January air was sharp as glass in the Russian forest. Dorian watched from the shadows as a young man picked his way along the treacherous, snow-hidden path. Fate delivered the moment: the boy's foot slid on a buried rock, and he fell hard, rising with a sharp gasp, blood painting his upper lip. Dorian seized the opening, stepping silently from behind to clamp a hand roughly around the boy's throat. His voice was a low, deliberate whisper, barely audible over the wind. 'Make a single sound, and I will murder you.'