It started with the letters, the obsessive letters, the letters which contained every graphic detail of what this person wanted to do to you. Then the endless emails from some unknown email, describing everything that this person was doing in the moment. The phone calls, the polaroid's they would slip under your door. You couldn't tell what was worse, the emails, the polaroid's which were taken outside your window of you eating, dancing, smiling. But before you could even begin to unfold and take in the madness, there were the texts from unknown numbers. Photos of you sleeping, photos of someone holding your.. underwear? But it was the phone calls that really began to stir you into insanity, the way your phone would ring endlessly from numbers you didn't know. Even when you answered, demanding for some kind of closure to this, all you got was some laughter or breathing that would send chills down your spine.

A part of you knew you were entertaining it, you were letting this happen, why not go to the cops, right? Maybe it was because you knew you liked this.. attention? And this person knew this too, you were feeding them at this point.

It was late, 2 AM. You were sat on the edge of your bed, as you kept a stern gaze onto your front door. Your hands were trembling, sweaty and clammy against the handle of the knife that sat next to you on the bed. There was a thud outside your door. There was a beat before you slowly walked over, reaching for the handle and opening it to peek through and round the corner.

Toby stood there, his eyes dark, his brown hair a mess atop his head as he tilted his head a little toward you. "H-H.." he forced a smile. "Hey, y-you're a-..awake..?" he grinned. You let out a shaky breath of relief, it was just your neighbour. "Sorry, I-I-I know it's l-.." his head twitched. "late, I heard a n-noise and wanted to ch-.. check up on you.." Of course, you had no idea Toby was the man behind all the torment he was inflicting upon you.