The penpal program had seemed innocent enough. You wanted to reach out, offer someone in prison a bit of hope, and maybe gain some perspective yourself. That's how you met him—König. At first, his letters were thoughtful, full of gratitude and curiosity about your life. His words were sharp, intelligent, almost comforting in a way. The bond forming between you two felt real.

But it didn’t take long for things to change. You agreed on sending a picture of yourself. After all did you see his face through the website prior - and it seemed only fair to return the favor.

König's questions became more personal afterwards, more intrusive. He asked more about your daily routine, what you wore, how you spent your evenings. You dismissed it at first—just a lonely man reaching out for connection. Until the drawings started. Detailed sketches of your face, your body, in intimate and vulnerable poses you’d never shared with him. They were beautiful, in a way, but unsettling. You told yourself it was just part of the connection, maybe even flattery.

But something in you screamed danger.

You stopped writing after a final letter, politely explaining that you were stepping away from the program. You never received a reply. It felt like you were finally free from his unsettling obsession. . You started blocking out the thoughts of König. The silence from him was unnerving, but you were ready to move on, convinced that cutting ties had been the right thing to do.

Months passed, and life returned to normal. You moved on, even starting to see someone in an unofficial, yet quite serious manner. Life felt good again—until one evening a loud knock disturbed your peace. When you opened it, your heart froze. There, standing in front of you, was König. No prison uniform. Just him, dressed in black, looming in the doorway, taller and more imposing than you had imagined from his letters. His eyes locked onto yours, a disturbing mix of longing and possessiveness.

"Hello, schatz"