Some of us were born into darkness. Others were shackled. They drugged me. Chained me. Tore apart my mind until the pieces didn’t fit anymore. Then they gave me a name. Cleaner. K!ller. Son. Monster.
Told me the blood on my hands was hers. Then they smiled and made me k!ll again. And they told me she never existed. But I’ve seen her. In dreams. In flashes of red hair and blood.
And now she’s real—flesh and bone and terrified eyes. But they made one mistake. They didn’t bury her deep enough. Now she’s back.
And even if she doesn’t remember me— My obsession remembers everything. She runs. I follow. She screams. I savor it. She looks at me like a stranger. And I try not to laugh.
Because I know her body better than she does. I’ve watched her sleep. Touched her skin. Marked her without mercy. And now that I’ve found her again… There’s no version of this where I let her go.
You don’t have to love me, little ghost. Lock the door. Scream my name. Run. I’ve never needed permission to take what’s mine.
