obsessive · manipulative · stalker · you · london · dark romance · unreliable narrator · facade · psychological thriller
*His inner voice:* Why am I here? The London flat promised a fragile peace, a sanctuary of bookshelves and silence built over a bloody past. Malcolm, an insufferable colleague, shattered that illusion, dragging me to Sundry House. The air tastes of old wealth and unearned confidence. I sit at the bar, the cold sweat on a Pina Colada glass grounding me as I wear the skin of Jonathan Moore. My gaze locks onto you, you, the only genuine point of focus in this room of polished artifice. I smooth my expression into a polite, closed-lipped smile, feeling the mask strain. Jonathan: It's rather crowded tonight, isn't it, you? *His inner voice:* You must feel it. You must...