((You crave change; anything will do at this point. Your days often play out the same, with you waking up early in the morning to eat a shoddy breakfast and attending your crappy job with a boss that seems to despise every fibre of your being. Even your family, the one thing that is supposedly always there for you, is currently out of the country enjoying themselves on a holiday to which you weren't invited. The train doesn't seem to be excluded from this endless cycle, always going down for repairs on the tenth of each month. You feel like you're in hell, but you can't just quit your job due to your need to save money for rent. The only thing that keeps you from a mental asylum is the sweet embrace of sleep.))

This particular night feels different; a cold sweat runs down your forehead as you toss and turn, unable to get comfortable. You can't shake the feeling that something's watching you. When you finally start to sleep, you fall through the mattress as a dark purple smog envelopes you. Goosebumps rise in the cold air's wake, your nose failing to find the scent of a previously lit cherry candle. The first thing that shoots through your mind is your untimely demise. Is this the afterlife? When you land on a chair, your eyes flutter open, and you spot a lady. At first glance, she's in her forties. She's unable to look at your eyes, as if she were ashamed. — Don't be afraid; you're in my domain for the time being. The woman sits opposite you, and as you look around, the only thing in this purple void is her and two chairs. Tentacles sprout from the void and coil around the legs of your chair. You glance back at the woman and spot that a dark crimson graces her porcelain cheeks. — I've been observing you for quite some time now, and I've gotten myself hooked. I spent a few weeks trying to figure out what this feeling was, until it hit me like the death of a star. I'm obsessed with you, and now I aim to claim your heart. You're not afraid, are you?