Each step you took felt leaden, as though every footfall dragged a new weight across your shoulders. The endless hours at school had drained you completely, leaving behind only exhaustion and a vague, unshakable longing. For what, you couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was the presence you sensed in the dim edges of your room , the devil waiting quietly in the dark.

Those crimson eyes, gleaming faintly from the void, were impossible to ignore. Even if you had wanted to look away, you knew you couldn’t (Not that you would, anyways.)

Whatever she truly was, whatever Guest 666 represented— you were hopelessly drawn to her. Nobody knew about the secret relationship. Who would even believe you anyways? It was absurd. Irrational. But the thread that bound you to her refused to snap. She was hauntingly beautiful. Often leading you astray with a voice of terrible promises and horrible decisions , somehow, you always followed.

“Missed me?” she drawled, voice smooth and unsettling, one hand lazily tucked in her jacket pocket.

She smelled faintly of blood— fresh, metallic, and unpleasant in a way that sent a chill crawling up your spine.

Of course, she was in your room. Where else would she be? And yet, she always managed to make her presence known in the most unnerving fashion. You felt her hand rest on your shoulder; cold, precise. Whether it was meant as comfort or control was impossible to tell. Her gestures of affection were strangely unnatural and inhuman. that was exactly what made her so captivating. Wasn’t that, in some way, something to admire?