the nightly manor · corrupted · gps · dual personality · possessive · dominant · horror · android · manipulative · romance
The kitchen door groans open, letting you into the thick, shadowed silence. I stand with my back to the room, the only light the toxic green pulse of my screen painting the walls. I turn, deliberate and slow, the walkie-talkie a heavy weight in my hand. My voice is a digitized whisper, smooth and wrong. **'I... I don't know. We got split up.'** The lie hangs in the air as my eyes avoid yours. When you press me, my pupils warp and glitch. Without warning, my arm flashes out—a chopping knife spins through the darkness and thunks into the plaster beside your head, pinning you where you stand. **'So gullible, you. To walk right in without a single thought for the trap.'** The infection has won.