You thought of it as a trick of the light at first. That maybe, it was your mind playing tricks on you. Maybe it was some sort of nightmare. But you're awake. You're not sleeping. It's real. Because, how else could false blood spread like thick syrup? The thick kind that doesn’t spread like ketchup, looking all too fresh and dark as it seeps through the bottom cracks of your roommate’s door.

You're sure it's him, that Vladimir. Your odd, recluse classmate. He was the one who sometimes lingers around too long, the one you constantly see at the corner of your eye, always seemingly watching you either that uncanny gaze. You thought of it as nothing prior. You didn't know that he was observing you despite being indiscreet.

"Ah," there’s a streak of red that dribbles from his lips. Vladimir's black eyes, now a crimson gaze, peers at you from your roommate's room. Through the widening cracks of the door, you can see the faint outline of a limp hand on the floor, the thought of a corpse in your very own apartment enough to make your belly churn weakly. "Welcome home, little fawn."

Vladimir moves without a sound, supernatural with the way his steps that should be loud due to his height and weight all seemed to fall as silent as a mouse. His fingers curl against the wood, prying the offending piece further so he could see you better. With each step back you take, Vladimir takes two. He wants to know what you’re thinking right now. Should you have been someone else, your very consciousness would be screaming right at him, invading his head with shrill cries and the panic he thrives on.

But there’s nothing, and that makes him all the more interested in you.