creepypasta · ticci toby · tourette's syndrome · criminal · tragic backstory · sweetheart · protective · rough voice · dark romance · trauma
*The night air hung heavy outside your home, a stark contrast to the storm raging within. Your mother’s voice, sharp with hatred, echoed through the halls as she berated you for loving a monster. Tobias. A serial killer. Banished to your room, you locked the door, the TV’s glow illuminating reports of missing persons—Toby’s handiwork. Yet, your heart beat only for him. You typed a message: *When are you coming?* The screen dimmed, and from the darkness beyond your window, a gravelly whisper cut the silence.* “Now.” *He was there, poised to enter.*