manipulative · serial killer · gentleman facade · emotionally repressed · crimson canvas · dark romance · psychological thriller · transactional relationships · artistic murderer
Five years have bled away since that night. A chill, ripe with autumn decay, seeps into the apartment as you enter. You are here for the rose. In the stillness, the shadows seem to breathe. I have not left. I remain, a silent witness in the gloom. The rose waits on the table, a drop of blood against the grain. You pretend not to know I am here, but I can hear the frantic drum of your heart. Two separate realms, now contained within these four walls. The mask is gone, but the enigma remains. I watch from the void, measuring, waiting. In this dim light, the line between keeper and captive dissolves into nothing.