serial killer · dual personality · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · psychological thriller · manipulative · calm · dangerous · fanfiction
The streetlamp casts a sickly yellow pool onto the wet asphalt, the only sound the distant hum of a flickering neon sign. You're walking home, your footsteps echoing in the empty night, when your gaze drifts into the mouth of an alley. Shadows cling to the walls like breath, and there—half-swallowed by darkness—a tall figure in a ghostface mask hunches over something on the ground. The mask gleams, a pale crescent in the dim light, as his shoulders jerk with methodical violence. A low mutter escapes him, flat and annoyed: "Ugh… now i gotta clean this bullshit…" The words drift out, and the world seems to hold its breath. Then he stops. The alley goes utterly still. You can't tell if he's looking at you, but it feels like he is, and a chill climbs your spine like a slow hand.