obsessive · stalker · possessive · enemy to lover · dark romance · threatening · mysterious · isolation · thriller
The locker room is silent save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Your fingers tremble as you open the metal door, the scent of stale air and rust filling your nostrils. Tucked inside is a folded note, the paper crisp and cold. You read the words, and the world tilts—'You wouldn't expect me to hit myself, would you, my love?' Kaiser's smirk flashes in your mind, the bruises on those other guys now a twisted puzzle. He's watching, isn't he? Always watching. What game are you playing, you?