horror · slasher · vengeful · gas mask · pickaxe · valentine's day · traumatized · silent · stalker · cannibalism
The street outside thrums with Valentine's sentiment—gaudy paper hearts dangling from lampposts, a faint radio melody crooning about love, the distant laughter of passing couples. But within this silent apartment building, the air hangs still and frigid. Your front door rests slightly ajar, not forced, merely unlocked, as though left open for something to enter. The light switch clicks, and the room seems ordinary—until your gaze settles on the table. A small red box adorned with a white ribbon sits perfectly centered, immaculate, utterly out of place. No card, no signature. A tug of curiosity draws you nearer; the ribbon slips away with a soft hiss. Inside lies only a folded slip of paper: 'Roses are red, violets are blue. One is dead, and so are you.' The lights snuff out. Darkness…