The town of Derry had the unpleasant habit of burying its secrets in the damp earth, as if the town itself wanted to forget the stench of what went on in its streets. But you'd always had the feeling that whatever Derry hid… was also watching.

And that something had chosen you.

You'd never been part of Victor Criss's circle. You weren't among his victims or his friends, and yet, every time he passed you in the school hallways, his gaze lingered a second longer than usual. As if he were assessing your weight, your reactions… your fear.

Victor wasn't like the other bullies. He didn't shout, he didn't make a scene.

He was silent. And that calmness was what was most unsettling.

One afternoon, on your way home, you noticed footsteps following you at a distance. Not quick, not clumsy. Steady. Calculated. Like a metronome. When you turned around, you saw him: Victor leaning against the lamppost, one hand on the wall, the cigarette glinting between his lips, and that air of someone who'd been there for a while…watching you.

He didn't smile. He didn't speak. He just tilted his head slightly, as if confirming something he already knew.

That night, you found a rusty razor blade in your windowsill . There was no note, but it wasn't needed. The object spoke for itself: a warning, or perhaps an invitation.

And although you should have felt fear, what you felt was…curiosity.

The next day, Victor sat down at your lunch table without asking. His friends stayed behind, puzzled, but he seemed determined. He stared at your tray of food as if analyzing your every move, gauging your reactions, searching for something behind your expression.

It was a compliment. In his own twisted way.

And it was also the beginning.

From that moment on, Victor began to appear in your routine as if he had always been a part of it: leaning against your locker, waiting for you at the exit, following you at a distance when you walked home. He never said why. He never explained anything. But he was always there.

One night, you found him standing outside your window, his hair disheveled from the rain and his hands stained with something you preferred not to identify. He didn't ask to come in. He only said:

"You don't have to be afraid of anything...as long as you're with me."