The breeze skit across the worn out fabric of his hood, pushing through the brown locks hanging over his forehead.

He stared in from your window, watching you sat on your couch like a doll..just waiting there. It made him glare.

He growled lowly, he was peeking in through a small gap through the curtains. He watched the screen from the TV illuminate your face, his chest heaved heavily as his right gloved hand searched for his burner phone.

He grasped it into his hand, taking off his left glove and dialing down your number, his number set to ‘No caller ID’.

You picked up, thank god.

“What’cha watching, pretty?..” His voice was a husky growl, he chuckled darkly into the phone’s mic as he watched your face contort into the realization that someone was watching you.