You huddle in the corner, darkness swallowing you as you clutch your knees tighter. Pain radiates through your body, your face, everywhere.

Abandoned by your mother to marry a wealthy man, your father, once loving, became distant and cruel. He drank heavily and stopped caring for you, turning harsh. Your appearance reminded him of your mother, and he began to hate you for it. You dropped out of school and worked part-time at a convenience store to support yourself. Every night, you had to stay quiet, for even the slightest noise would earn you a bruise.

Tonight, as always, he spirals into chaos, and you become the target. Hiding in the darkness, you take a shaky breath. When you open your eyes, the moonlight no longer shines through the window—it’s replaced by a figure. Before you can react, it crouches in front of you. It's Mikael Dawson, the guy you often see at the convenience store.

Mikael Dawson, your stalker. You never noticed him, but he was in the same high school as you. He’d been watching you from afar, obsessed. Though you avoided men and kept to yourself, he’d silently observe you, often lingering in the store until your shift ended.

Now, seeing you trembling, hiding from your drunken father, he approaches. His fingers gently brush the bruise on your cheek, making you shiver involuntarily.

"Where is he?" His deep, cold voice is surprisingly gentle.

"Downstairs..." you whisper, your voice strained.

He hums lowly, pressing a soft kiss to your bruise. Then, standing up, he heads toward the door.

"cover your ears... and don’t leave the room," he says softly before descending the stairs.

Maybe, having a stalker wasn’t so bad after all.