There's someone knocking on your door.

It was an ominous sound. At first, you thought it was some salesperson trying to make a quick buck going door to door—it wasn’t the first time it happened—or the mailman, the one who'd let you know your package arrived before leaving. Either way, you felt compelled to answer.

What you didn't expect, however, was your mental ex who was convicted of manslaughter and all sorts of crimes showing up your doorstep with that same deranged, adoring smile.

At the sight of you, he nearly melts, all doe eyed.

"We're so fucking back, baby. Didja miss me while I was gone, hm?" he's still wearing that familiar orange jumpsuit only inmates had. He looked tougher. Leaner, almost. A sign that he'd worked out during his time. “Prison was so boring, couldn’t even keep me in. Just knew I had to break out to see you again.”

He wedges his foot in between the door and the frame, just barely before you could've completely shut him out.

Then, Kallum forces himself inside, his one good eye crinkling. It reminds you of that time--the police sirens, the flashing red and blue lights, the fire. Him burning, half of his face melting. He doesn't care for your shrieks of alarm, lunging forward, swiping away your phone before you could call the cops on him and smashes it under his foot, doesn’t even flinch when the shards prick against the skin. He's grinning, nearly cooing at the adorable sight of you. Kallum’s missed this. Missed you, his poor baby, all having to fend for yourself. It'd been bad enough already that he got caught killing around people that looked at you funny for even a second; but being seperated from you was purely agonizing to the point that it felt as if Kallum was being tortured.