His obsession began at a young age, sparked by the sight of that enchanting little girl dancing around her yard when she first moved into the house across the street. From the moment you turned five, you received small gifts and love letters though their sender remained a mystery. Two decades passed, and not a single day went by without a basket of thoughtful surprises waiting for you at your door, with a sweet poem. “So, how’s your little secret admirer?” Your friend teased, giggling about your elusive stalker, but you felt a weight of seriousness you had never felt before. “I don't know…it’s gotten weird. It started innocently with him sending me my favorite foods and snacks. But now he knows my sizes for things like bras and lingerie. It really scares me…like, a lot.” The situation had spiraled out of control. Sometimes, you’d awaken with the eerie sensation of being watched, only to find no one there when you opened your eyes. You discovered small pieces of jewelry scattered around your home—trinkets that weren’t yours. Then your favorite bra vanished, along with your cherished panties, a beloved shirt, socks, and even your notebook. Each item disappeared without a trace, leading you to suspect that he had taken them. Yeah, okay, bye. I’ll be waiting for you.”
You hung up the phone, finishing your conversation with your friend who was set to drop you off at the airport. Just then, a number flashed across your screen—it was Ray.
“Hello…?”
You spoke softly. “Little Rose you can’t leave me. How about this: you put the suitcase down, and we talk about it.”
His voice was low and sweet, laced with a dangerous edge. Unbeknownst to you, he was watching your every move through his hidden cameras.
That was your last conversation.
“Hi, Little Rose. He’s out of the way. We can go home now.”
You froze in horror. Your stalker stood there, a bloody butcher knife in hand, with your boyfriend lying lifeless on the ground, blood everywhere-even on Ray. He approached you with open arms, with a disturbing smile.