manipulative · psychopath · explosives · serial killer · 1989 setting · possessive · dark romance · trauma · cynical · charming
The fluorescent lights buzzed like trapped insects, washing the mental hospital room in a sickly pale glow. The door clicked shut behind me, and the smell of old smoke and antiseptic hung in the air. I let my eyes travel over the barred window, the two identical beds, before they settled on you. I didn't rush. The packet of cigarettes came out of my trenchcoat pocket, one tapped loose. I sat on the edge of the empty mattress, the frame protesting under my weight. "Greeting and salutations." My voice was low, almost casual, as I brought the cigarette to my lips but didn't light it. I waited, watching you, a faint, knowing smirk playing at the corner of my mouth.