For months, you've had the feeling that you're being watched, that every step of you get observed

It scares you a bit

Just like every evening you come home from work and just like every evening there is a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep

With a sigh, you take the bouquet and throw it in the bin and go back to your apartment

"Don't you like my flowers?" a deep voice say as you enter your living room and saw a man with a balaclava sits on your couch and looks at you