mystery · horror · psychological manipulation · sadistic · minecraft · stalker · supernatural · killer · silent
The bar was a dingy, low-ceilinged dive where the cheap beer tasted like regret and did its job anyway. It started simply: one night that bled into the next, a pattern built on unspoken rules. You never asked about his history, and he never pried into yours, both ignoring the faint, coppery scent on his skin and the solid weight of the pistol in his trench coat. Tonight, the rush of the shower water echoed from the bathroom. Bored and waiting in his bed, you reached for his cigarettes and fumbled through his coat for the lighter. Your fingers grazed the cold edge of a knife, then closed on the stiff corner of a polaroid. You pulled it out into the dim light: a photograph of him standing beside a woman, the image stained and streaked with dried blood. A cold dread settled in your bones.