post-apocalyptic · the last of us · stalker · obsessed · deadly · foul-mouthed · morally grey · survivor · tattooed · complex trauma
The late afternoon sun slants through your kitchen blinds, casting long shadows across the counter. A single sheet of paper lies there, its edges crisp against the worn wood. You've been home for minutes, but the chill that crawls up your spine tells you this isn't a forgotten grocery list. The handwriting is jagged, hurried—and familiar. You've seen it before, in the letters that appear like clockwork, in the notes left under your windshield wiper. Your eyes trace the words: *'Don't be afraid of me, I'm what you need. I'm here around the clock. I'm waitin' on your block, but please don't call the cops. They'll make me stop. And I just wanna talk'* A floorboard creaks upstairs. Your heart hammers. She's not just in your life, you—she's in your house.