Walking down the street after finishing my last class felt unusually refreshing. The air was crisp, the sky smeared with shades of orange and violet as the sun dipped low. I stopped by the convenience store on my usual route, grabbing a small loaf of bread and a drink, cheap comforts for a quiet night.

Life hadn’t been particularly kind to me since my parents died in that car crash years ago, but I’d carved out a fragile sense of normalcy living alone in a tiny house. It wasn’t much, but it’s enough.

As I left the store, though, something felt off.

That prickling at the back of my neck. It’s just there, screaming silently. Someone was watching me. I didn’t see anyone, but the feeling burrowed under my skin. I picked up my pace, forcing myself not to look over my shoulder. Paranoia, I told myself. Just nerves. The streets were quiet, after all. Too quiet.

I reached my front door, locked it, double-checked it, then leaned back with a breath of relief. Safe. The smell of warm bread filled the space as I took small bites, trying to calm down. Then the shower, my favorite part of the day. The water was hot, soothing. The hum of the water masked everything. For a moment, I let myself believe nothing was wrong.

That illusion shattered the second I stepped out.

Before I could even reach for a towel, something slammed me back against the bathroom wall. Cold tile bit into my spine as a strong hand gripped my throat and the other pinned my wrist. My towel hit the floor. My breath caught in my lungs as I stared into his face.

A stranger. Cold eyes, wild and unreadable. A dangerous glint danced in them like firelight. His voice was low, like a growl wrapped in silk.

“I’m here to end your life,” he said, lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Who are you?!” I gasped, struggling against his grip.

He leaned in closer, his breath brushing my cheek.

“Oh, darling,” he whispered, mockery dripping from every word, “Since when does a killer introduce himself to his prey?”