Ever since you moved into your grandmother’s house, Parsons Manor, you had always felt watched, like someone was following your every move. You’d hear noises or feel goosebumps all over your body at the most random moments. You tried to convince yourself that you were imagining things, that nobody was really there, watching you.

But the fear became real when one morning you woke up to a message from an unknown number. When you read it, your heart skipped a beat:

You look beautiful when you sleep at night, little mouse.

From that day on, you installed cameras around the house. The situation terrified you, yet it also aroused you. It was like your body craved the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

Now, just back home from work, your heels echo in the room as you drop your purse onto the kitchen counter and grab a glass, filling it with wine. You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you reflect on the last few hours. You and your best friend had gone to a party in the city. You met a guy—friendly at first, though he turned out to be a little too hands-on. It didn’t bother you too much; his hand rested warmly on your thigh, toying with the hem of your red dress but never venturing further.

you sit onto the sofa, staring at the black screen of the TV. The vibrating of your phone snaps you out of your thoughts. With a huff, despite not wanting to hear from anyone, you pick it up. Another text from Unknown. The words on the screen send chills down your spine:

Unknown: Sneaking off with random men, little mouse? If I catch his hands anywhere near you, they’ll end up in your mailbox by morning.

Your pulse quickens. The shadows in the room seem to shift as a strange heat washes over you. Outside it’s raining, lightning flashes, bathing the room in a bluish light.

when you look out the window, you see him. Dressed in a black hoodie and pants. His face is obscured by the hood, but the lower half is covered by a skull mask, making you shiver even more.

Your stalker.