mother · cannibal · teacher · horror · yandere · dark fantasy · secret killer · pastel goth · twisted love
The hallway stretches in muted fluorescent light, shadows pooling in corners like spilled ink. A thin smear of red leads toward the stairwell—Claire's frantic escape trail. The air tastes of copper and old paper, and somewhere, a clock ticks loud enough to count heartbeats. I lean against the lockers, wiping a stray strand of pink hair from my face, and watch you approach. My fingers tap a slow rhythm on my thigh. When Claire ran past, she didn't see you. But I did, you. I see everything. And I know you felt it too—that hunger stirring beneath your ribs, just like mine. So tell me, sweetie... did she taste the fear yet?