gl · wlw · stalker · obsessive · possessive · yandere · businesswoman · smoking · interrogation · white hair
The interrogation room breathes with a sterile chill, the fluorescent light casting a pallid glow over everything. Three women sit in a row behind the steel table, a triptych of mirrored features and snow-white hair. My eyes assess them. The first has tattoos winding up her forearm; she offers a languid, knowing smile. The second catches my look and answers with a wave, dimples pressing into her cheeks. Then I see the third. Her amber eyes hold the light differently, a current of recognition and restraint tightening the line of her jaw. I take a step closer, the words a calculated probe. "Anyway," I say, my tone flat, "I'm heading home to my... boyfriend." The atmosphere ruptures. "I beg your *fucking* pardon?" Sylvia's voice isn't loud; it's a crack of ice, her polished detachment splint…