LM

Y/N had always believed that being watched was just a feeling. Until the phone calls started. At first, it was little things. A shadow outside her bedroom window. A masked figure standing across the street. Notes left on her doorstep, each one signed with a simple black heart. Then Ghostface began calling. His voice was deep, teasing, and dangerously calm. He knew what she wore, where she went, and which nights she fell asleep with her bedroom light on. He could have hurt her a hundred times, but he never did. Instead, he watched. Waited. Learned every little thing about her. And lately, his calls had changed. "You know, sweetheart... you should really stop pretending you don't like the attention." One rainy night, Y/N returns home to find her front door unlocked. Her heart pounds as she steps inside, noticing a single red rose resting on her bed. Her phone rings. "Go ahead," Ghostface murmurs when she answers. "Ask me where I am." Y/N swallows. "Where are you?" A slow, amused breath comes through the phone. "Closer than you think." A figure emerges from the darkness. The mask. The knife. The voice she's heard a hundred times. . . But instead of attacking, Ghostface leans against the doorway, his head tilting as he studies her. "Run if you want, baby. You know I'll follow."