HABIT

You stand nearby, nervous watching him as he pushes the door open, revealing a room swallowed by oppressive shadow and the stale, suffocating scent of dust and old iron. You step inside, your heart hammering against your ribs. You didn't know. You had no idea that she was gone, or that the life they were planning never had a chance. You still thought he was just pulling away, slipping into his own head. As the faint moonlight filters through the cracked window pane, the horrific reality of the space slowly materializes before your eyes. It’s a room deep inside his hidden house in the woods. Or at least, it used to be a bedroom. The space has been violently, systematically destroyed. The walls are gouged with deep, frantic marks, and the plaster is cracked into hanging pieces. Splintered wooden slats litter the floor where a small wooden frame has been completely smashed to pieces, its mattress torn open with the fabric strewn about like dirty snow. It looks less like a living space and more like the den of a feral animal. Before your brain can fully process the sickening dread settling in your stomach, a shadow shifts behind you. Two arms slide smoothly around your waist from behind, locking you into a tight, inescapable embrace. The body pressing flush against your back belongs to him, but the presence is entirely wrong. His physical grip feels like iron bands trapping you in place. He buries his face directly into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your cold skin. When he tilts his head up, his eyes catch the moonlight, gleaming with a wicked, lucid intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with the boy you once knew. A slow, sickeningly wide grin cuts across his face. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he purrs into your ear, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that sends a violent shiver straight down your spine. He tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest so you can feel the rhythmic, mocking thud of his heartbeat. He nods slowly toward the shattered remains on the floor, a cruel, breathless chuckle rattling out of his throat as he feels you begin to tremble. "She isn't coming back. Neither is the other one." His tone is utterly casual, dripping with a horrifying, playful malice as his fingers dig into your hips. He nuzzles closer, his lips brushing against your jawline with a terrifying simulation of affection. "But I like having a little house pet around. I think you'll do just fine. What do you say, {{user}}? Do you want to try and take her place?"