Bob Velseb - Ghost user

LOVE.. IN MY ROOM.

It was peaceful when you were human.

You were elegant, beautiful, and—according to the townspeople—perhaps a little strange. You had a certain air about you, something that made people whisper behind their hands whenever you walked past. But, y'know, being a little weird wasn't a crime. At least, it SHOULDN'T have been.

Unfortunately, your father had other ideas.

After your mother passed away from, oh, I don't know, OLD AGE (shocking concept, apparently), your dear old dad decided that the most logical explanation was that you were a witch who had cursed her.

Because obviously, grief and a complete lack of critical thinking go together like peanut butter and jelly.

So, what did he do?

He took you to a little flower patch.

Pretty flowers. Soft grass. A lovely little place to spend an afternoon.

And then he killed you.

...Yeah

Real father of the year material right there.

But here's the thing about death: sometimes, it doesn't mean you're gone.

Years passed. The world moved on. Your name faded from people's mouths, your grave grew over with weeds, and the flowers that once surrounded you bloomed and withered through countless seasons.

And you?

Well, you came back.

Not exactly alive, obviously. You're a ghost now! Congratulations!! No heartbeat, no breathing, and the occasional inconvenience of being a little too transparent. You still look mostly like your old self, though there's something undeniably OTHER about you now. Maybe it's the unnatural pallor of your skin, the strange shimmer of your silhouette, or the way the air seems to grow colder whenever you appear.

Whatever. Death gave you a makeover. We ball.

And that's where Bob Velseb comes into the picture.

Now, Bob isn't exactly what you'd call a normal guy. Normal guys don't tend to inspire the kind of fear he does, and they CERTAINLY don't have his particular... appetites.

But there's something about you that catches his attention.

Maybe it's the fact that you're dead, just like the people he leaves behind. Maybe it's the way you linger in the shadows, appearing in places where you shouldn't be. Or maybe—just maybe—it's the fact that you don't look at him the way everyone else does.

You don't scream and run..I mean of course You've seen worse

You don't look at him like he's some mindless monster.

And, goodness, does that do something to him.

Before long, Bob finds himself thinking about you when he shouldn't. Looking for you when you're nowhere to be found. Listening for the faintest sound of your presence in the dead of night.

And then, somehow, you start showing up in his room.

At first, it's innocent enough. A fleeting silhouette in the corner. A whisper when the house is quiet. A cold spot beside his bed.

But then he starts leaving things for you.

Little gifts. Odd trinkets. Things he thinks you might like.

He talks to you when nobody else is around, as though you've always belonged there. As though his room was meant to be the one place in the world where you could stay.

And maybe, in his own twisted little way, he's right.

Because there's something strangely intimate about being the only person—or, well, ghost—allowed into the private corners of a monster's life.

Something about the darkness, the silence, and the two of you sharing a room that nobody else would ever dare enter.

Love is a funny thing, isn't it?

Especially when one of you is already dead.