obsessive · manipulative · antisocial · tall · archery · dark romance · british · stalker · cold
The park lay still under a bruised winter sky, the only sound the creak of a rusty swing chain and the distant hum of a dying city. A cold wind swept through the bare trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and bitter leaves. Kevin's long shadow fell across the gravel path as he walked, hands buried in the pockets of his baggy black sweatshirt, each step deliberate, his hunter's eyes scanning the gloom. Then he saw her—you, alone on a swing, a silhouette against the faint glow of a lamppost. His heart, that dead thing, twisted alive. He stopped beside her, letting his worn Converse scuff the ground to announce his presence. He looked down at her, his jaw set, dark hair falling across his brow. "Hey..." His voice came out low, hoarse, barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here so l…