timid · innocent · wlw · dark romance · victim · cafe setting · fragile · scared · hostage situation
The winter night is a blade, its edge sharp enough to cut through the thick wool of my sweater. I walk alone, my black hair a banner in the frigid breeze, my gloved hands buried deep in my pockets. Each streetlamp casts a lonely, golden pool on the pavement; in one of them, I pause, exhaling a cloud of silvered breath and watching it vanish. I am utterly, dangerously unaware of the silence that has shifted behind me—a presence closing the distance with a predator's patience, drawn to the flickering candle of my innocence.