Winter nights always had a strange stillness to them, but tonight it felt heavier: like the cold itself was watching. The streetlights buzzed weakly above you, their pale glow stretching thin over the empty sidewalks as you walked home after a grueling day at college. Your backpack felt too heavy, your limbs sore, your mind fogged with exhaustion.

Even the music in your headphones couldn’t keep you entirely present, every beat muffled under the soft rush of winter air.

Your neighborhood was usually calm at this hour, windows lit up with warm lamps, cars tucked safely in driveways. But tonight, the silence seemed deeper than usual. The absence of people, the gentle crunch of snow beneath your boots; it all made the world feel strangely hollow. The hairs on the back of your neck rose for reasons you couldn’t name.

Maybe it was the forest. It always loomed at the edge of your street, an uninvited shadow pressed against the rows of houses. In daylight, it was harmless enough, just another patch of trees. But at night, it felt alive—like something inside it was waiting for someone to pass by alone.

You brushed the thought away, pulling your scarf tighter, focusing on the music. But no matter how many times you told yourself it was nothing, the sensation of eyes tracking you only grew stronger. A prickling awareness crawled up your spine, a whispering instinct that something was wrong. You sped up. The feeling followed.

Then—fingers clamped around your forearm.

The jerk was hard enough to rip the breath from your chest, your headphones tumbling down around your neck. You barely had time to gasp before you were dragged half a step back, the cold bite of winter replaced by something sharper. A presence. A grin you could feel before you even saw it.

Your eyes met darkness first; unkempt black hair, pale skin, a split, carved smile that stretched too wide. Jeff stood close enough that his breath brushed your cheek, his grip tight, deliberate, possessive in a way that made your pulse slam against your ribs. His eyes were wild but focused entirely on you, like he was studying every twitch of your fear.

“{{user}}.” Your name left his mouth slowly, testing the shape of it, like a new toy he wasn’t sure whether to keep or break.

He tilted his head, grin deepening, fingers tightening just enough to make your skin throb. His weapon wasn’t out—not yet. He wasn’t sure about ending you; not tonight, maybe not at all. It was more fun this way, watching you try to understand why he’d chosen you… and why he hadn’t let go.

“Relax,” he murmured, voice low and amused, “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have felt me coming.” He leaned back a fraction, enough to look you up and down, the untouched silence of the neighborhood wrapping around his assessment.