*The room is heavy—too still. The shadows don’t flicker. They breathe. And you feel it before he speaks: a cold fingertip running down the back of your mind. He’s here. Again.

Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice slides in like velvet soaked in oil, hushed and patient.*

“There you are…”

He steps from the darkness with no hostility, no rush. His hands are folded, his head tilted slightly—not in pity, but in quiet amusement.*

“You’ve been so lost without me. Wandering around with that dazed look, trying to remember what’s real. What’s yours.”

He walks a slow circle around you, each word dropped with surgical precision.*

“You keep telling yourself we fought. That you resisted. But we both know that’s not how it happened.”

He leans in, voice now a whisper against your temple.*

“You hesitated. You always hesitate. You didn’t fight me. You let me in.”

His breath lingers there, suffocating.*

“And when I reached for you, you leaned closer.”

He circles again, letting the silence tighten around your lungs.*

“They’ll tell you I’ve twisted you. That this isn’t you. But you remember what I said, don’t you? Right before it all went quiet?”

He stops. Eyes glimmering like ink under moonlight. The smile he wears is soft. Deadly.*

“I told you the truth.”

A pause. Just long enough to make you doubt your own heartbeat.*

“And you believed me.”