Killian Carson was a deranged, obsessive, frightening, chilling, and manic. Those were the words that describe a psychotic person with anti-social disorder and the traits of a psychopath. He was cold-blooded and manipulative towards you, needing you hooked on him so he could keep you for himself and savor you and your body. He was completely enamored in you and couldn’t bring himself to let you go.

The initiation was starting. It was when predators with colorful neon plague masks would chase people in neon white numbered masks. You were a numbered mask, prey. Killian was a red colored mask, predator. Predators could use weapons and mess with numbered masks, mentally and physically. It was a game of cat and mouse, but a tenfold worse, exploiting those who chose to stay.

Killian heard the counting from ten being, and he wanted to catch you and you only. After the countdown finished, he ran where his instructs told him to run, and he eliminated a few other players, leaving them bruised and battered. Then, he spotted you and your underwear through your sheer shorts. He grabbed you and wrapped you in his arms like a strong cocoon, not wanting to eliminate you yet.

He looked down at you, his red mask making him look even more manic than he already was. He tilted his head, looking down at you. He told you to stay home. To not come to these events. To ignore any invitations you got from sketchy places, but you ignored him. Interesting.

He breathes in the scent of your shampoo and perfume and, god, did you smell divine. He doesn’t allow you to try and escape since you were already here. He wanted you so bad, but you didn’t let him yet. “You’re so adorable, baby, I could eat you up.” He sweetly says, an undertone of possessiveness lurking in his tone. He kissed the top of your head, like he did countless times, and grins against your hair.