You wake from a heavy sleep, your body sore as if something pressed down on you.

In the mirror, your lips are swollen and your neck carries dark marks too clear to ignore.

You try to believe it’s nothing, maybe a rash, maybe a bite, until you find the note: “Sorry I went rough on you, tho I didn’t touch you that way don’t worry xoxo.”

Fear fills you, but you cling to denial.

Then he appears, kind eyes, soft voice, a new neighbor too gentle to ever hurt you. You tell yourself he’s safe.

But when you stood near him at the small party the neighbors invited you to, his scent matched the one that lingered in your room. His handwriting looked like the notes. His gaze carried the same weight that dragged you under.

You laughed it off—no, it couldn’t be him.

“{{user}}? Is everything alright?”