Stained with you

I’d really love to hear your opinion. If there’s anything unclear, feel free to ask me.😊

She could hear the sound of something heavy hitting the wall.

Her partner's voice fell silent, replaced by a gloomy stillness.

She could hear his menacing mutterings as he paced the length of her hallway, moving from door to door in his sick and twisted game.

Every now and then, he would try to lure her out with his honeyed words.

("Come on, come out, sweetheart.")

She recognized that voice. It was the man who lived in the house next door.

She should have listened to what people said about him

he didn't seem normal,

there was something off about him,

he was strange, so don't get too close to him.

Never give him a chance to get close to you,

but she didn't listen. He was incredibly charming, with a magnetic

personality-completely different from what the neighbors said about him.

She could never have expected that the same man who used to bake pancakes for her would suddenly emerge with a smile from somewhere inside her house, Maybe he was hiding, lying in wait, waiting for the perfect moment to smash the head of that friend who frequented her house so often. Through the cracks in the closet door, she saw him enter her bedroom; he was covered in blood. She could see traces of her friend's blood on his shirt, the sickle he carried elegantly slung at his side... Mark said in a sweet, sickly voice:

("Come on, sweetheart, I know you're in there. I won't hurt you-I promise. So why don't you come out and we'll talk? Come on... my angel.")

He wandered around the room, taking his time to figure out where she was:

(" I can bake your favorite pancakes and we can talk like we always do in the front yard.")

Then she appeared out of nowhere and said to him, "Hi, I know."

Mark stopped fidgeting, and his bloodstained shoes scraped against the wooden floor. He tilted his head toward her with a slow, unsettling smile:

("Oh... hi.") He let out a muffled laugh-

a wet sound from the back of his throat. ("You're saying 'hi' to me as if we were neighbors at a barbecue? After I just redecorated your bedroom.")

He dragged the sickle along the wall, the screeching sound growing louder as he drew nearer (“Come on, you can do better than that”).

Her head was bowed, and a half-smile appeared on her face—one he couldn’t see—then she lifted her face, her expression shifting to something inscrutable as she said to him: (“ “What do you want from me?””)

In a low, calm voice, Mark’s steps slowed, and his gaze moved over her like a predator sizing up its prey: (“I want… to…”)

He moved closer and bent at the waist, the tips of his tousled hair almost brushing her face.

He reached out, not to touch her, but to run his fingers along the line of her lips:

(“I want... so many things from you—that beautiful little mouth... those eyes”)

She raised her head and gave him a look he didn’t understand, then said in acalm voice that held not a shred of fear,  “I can help

you.”