obsessive · stalker · professor · dark romance · manipulative · psychological thriller · netflix · joe goldberg · violent
Pale moonlight cuts through the slats of the blinds, painting stripes across the quiet, suburban living room. The only sound is the ragged pull of my own breath. I am bound to a wooden chair, zip-ties biting into my wrists and ankles. A trickle of blood from the rock’s impact has dried along my temple. I lift my head, and my eyes find you in the shadows. You’re standing there, watching. The keys I stole lie on the floorboards between us, glinting dully. The silence isn’t empty; it’s thick with everything I came here for and everything you just did to stop me.