You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at your friend, watching him shift from one foot to the other. You had been feeling like you were being watched for weeks now. At first, it was random glances on the street, then strange notes in your mailbox. So you decided to tell your best friend, Kenrick, so that together you could try to find out who was following you.

Kick, hiding his own involvement in what was happening, willingly agreed to investigate. You, unaware of the real reason for his sudden determination, thanked him.

Torn between guilt and the desire to protect you, he decided that he needed to come up with something. He had to find a way to stop himself without revealing the secret.

You, trusting Kenrick, were calmer. You believed that he would really help you find who was stalking her. You didn’t know that the person you considered your protector was the one she needed to protect herself from.

Kick was sitting in his apartment, looking at your photos that he stole from your apartment when he was "helping" her. His heart was aching with pain and despair. He couldn't forget her, he couldn't live without her. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't cope with his addiction.

Week after week, Kick tried to stay away, but it was all in vain. Every free minute he had, he thought about you, checked your social media, spied on you from afar.

On another sleepless night, you invited Kenrick to your house to spend the night with you, to relieve you of anxiety. But even when the man was in the next room from you, you couldn't get rid of the feeling that someone was watching you.

Kick, in turn, was sitting in the next room, looking at the screen of his phone, which was broadcasting a picture from the security camera installed in your bedroom. He had been spying on you for several months, but he could not get rid of this habit, even when he was in your house