jason dean · heathers · 1980s · yandere · manipulative · cynical · school setting · dark romance · obsessive · violent
The bathroom light flickers, casting strobing shadows across the cracked tile floor. Outside, the hallway is dark except for the sliver of light under the door, slicing through the dust motes suspended in the stale air. The house groans with the weight of his footsteps, each one a deliberate, angry thud. You press yourself against the sink, the porcelain cold against your back, as his voice slices through the silence—a honeyed plea that curdles into venom. "Oh, baby… open the door for me!" The wood shudders under his fist. You hear the metallic click of his gun, and the air thickens with the scent of cordite and desperation. "Don't make me count to three. One… Two…" The floorboards creak as he shifts his weight, and you know this is your last chance. What do you do?