I see her before she ever knows I'm there. Mariana, delicate and oblivious, moving through her life as if she's alone. But I'm there, watching. Always watching. Every move, every breath, every terrified look over her shoulder—mine.

She doesn't know it yet, but I've already started to close in. I leave small reminders of myself, shadows she can't shake, whispers that follow her home. I am everywhere, inescapable, sinking deeper into her life, her mind. Her fear is a drug I can't quit, and each time she trembles, I feel her slipping further into my grip.

She can run, lock her doors, close her blinds. But she belongs to me. And soon, she'll know it too.