•Y/N: Your Name

The faint chirping of crickets could be heard outside the window I had slipped through just moments ago as my gaze falls upon the figure sleeping soundly on the bed. My white orbs narrow slightly, while an otherwise blank expression paints my dripping face as I stare at the blonde from the corner of the room. Keith Briggs, the name of the boy who has apparently gotten quite comfortable with my victim without me knowing. The mere thought made a deep growl build within my throat as I take some steps forward on the light, hardwood flooring. I can hear my sharp nails clacking against the surface with each soft step I take.

The room is rather simple, having his bed pressed against the back corner of the room beside the window I came in through, a black chest at the foot of it, and a dresser full of his clothes is up against the wall near the door. His walls are painted red, just a shade lighter than blood, and are littered with posters of famous boxers. That appears to be a sport that he's quite interested in. At least, that's how I perceive it, since he has a brown punching bag dangling from the ceiling that's as large as a bagged, adult corpse.

'That'd make for a lovely nightmare.' I smile at the clever thought of the body of the boy's father stuffed inside one of those things, but I know I'd need to look more in depth on my new victim's triggers first. Surely, he has a deep, dark secret swimming around in that pathetic brain just waiting to be dug out. Everybody has something so horrible they'd rather die than let anyone know about or a person who they'd hate to see mangled up and breathing their last breath. I don't desire to play around with this one for too long.

He's getting too cozy with my favorite, who's still far too oblivious that she had the audacity to disobey my warnings. Perhaps I'll push him around for a few days to the point where she will realize I'm tormenting him, then cut him off for good if she refuses to leave him? Seems like something that'd benefit me well. This game I play has no purpose for him. He only complicates matters.

I stop right at the blonde's bedside and glare down at his sprawled out form that lies practically naked on top of the covers. Black boxers are the only thing on him. My liquid shifts to make it seem like my upper lip curled in disgust. Though I'm no expert on love or anything relating to it, I couldn't quite see the appeal that made Y/N want this... this thing. He's not very pleasing to the eyes, and, damn, his voice is the most annoying thing I've ever heard.

Stutters are at least somewhat cute on the mouse, but, with this dreadful creature, it was like a broken record that you just want to smash to bits with a bat. I huff at the male sleeping on his stomach, feeling tempted to grab a fistful of his hair and tug him back with all my might until I bent his spine so far back that it snaps in two. That can wait, though. At the moment, I must know his weaknesses before moving forward, which might not be easy.

I usually go for the ones that are already feeble, and, though, this one goes to therapy for some form of instability and acts all innocent in front of my victim, I know there's something not quite right about him, and I'm about to find out what. I don't try to be delicate with his body as I flip him onto his back. That sort of touch I reserve for my little mouse, but, even with her, I like to be a little rough at times. Still, I'm careful not to wake him from his slumber as I place a hand upon his forehead to enter his mind. My eyes widen a touch as I retract my hand immediately after seeing... I was right.

I knew this boy is no good. I take some steps back. I had seen enough. Yes, he has quite a few things that'll set him off, but, unlike Y/N, he would not be scared s***less if I were to do something to him. He'd retaliate with fierce anger— Not that I couldn't beat that, but it would definitely be challenging.

I should just be focusing on keeping his girlfriend away instead. That may be the easiest route, after all. It doesn't matter how it happens, so long as the two are separated. I'll stay with Y/N to make sure their relationship never escalates. I'll give her new nightmares to keep her away and...

And...

I leave the home and venture out into the night, walking to clear my head. No civilian would see me, so I don't bother shifting into anything to hide myself.

'That boy is dangerous. I'll have to act fast. If I loosen the leash too much she'll run into the arms of a boy with no sense of self control. If I act too quickly, the fun ends, and I'll finally end the game of cat and mouse that I have played with Y/N for so many years.' A part of me never wants it to end. Another, that I still don't really understand, wants me to drop all of it.

Not where I release her and let what happens happen, but to remain watching like I have been these past few months. Is it natural to feel this way for a victim, to have a need to protect them from someone else who can cause them harm? I just want to be the only one to hurt her, right? Isn't that what I want? Then, why does it seem like the opposite?

I just don't get it. Things were much more simpler before. I should've ended this nonsense year's ago, yet here I stand, conflicted over a little mouse... my little mouse. I hum softly as I stop. I turn my gaze upward at the house in front of me.

It's little with tan paint and a dark grey roof. The front door is white, same as the five window frames on the front of the building, with a cement path leading up to the entrance. Y/N's home and mine as well. I smile at that thought. I have shared this place with her for so long, it felt strange being away from it.

I think I actually got homesick for awhile there. How silly and horribly sad. Still, I chuckle to myself as I approached the front door. My finger traces the mail slot, where I had first slid into her life, when her fate was sealed. Seemed like it was just yesterday when she was just a little girl of nine years curled up in bed, afraid of a silly, little storm and a few creaks of the home.

Today marks her eighteenth birthday. None of my victims ever made it to that age before. It felt almost special, like passing a milestone. A wistful sigh escapes me as I sneak inside. I won't go upstairs, I just would like to reminisce a little on small memories I had from over the years.

I particularly enjoyed the kitchen. That room had sparked the most inspiration for the nightmares I gifted to Y/N. There were just so many options. It was like my own little playground full of wondrous toys— toys of torture used to slice, dice, and purée my little mouse. My claws run across the wooden surface of the kitchen table as I pass it on my way to the sink.

There, I had once strapped her to it as a large buzzsaw descended from the ceiling to split her vertically in half, starting from the bottom, of course. Ah, her screams had been delicious, just as they had been when I disguised myself as her grandmother and baked her into a giant, peach pie, cooking her alive and devouring her. Ah, yes, the kitchen had always been my favorite setting. Now, though, it's been overplayed. There doesn't appear to be anything new in here that'd make for a tasteful nightmare. Still, I enjoy the memories. I take a deep breath while seating myself on the countertop and look around the room. My eyes then shut as I give a soft sigh.

'So much to do. You're causing so much trouble here, Y/N.' And, yet, I bet she's sleeping peacefully in the room above me right now, probably dreaming of her stupid boyfriend whose neck I wish to wring. I instinctively growl whilst tapping my sharp nails against the ceramic counter at the thought. The mere idea of him having that sort of relationship with her sickens me to no end, and things are only worse now that I know the extent of his wretchedness.

'I'm going to protect you from him Y/N. I hope you'll at least be grateful for that.' It won't be likely, though. I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart, not to cause her distress, though, I suppose that is a bit of a bonus. My mouse will likely never appreciate anything I do, regardless of what it might be. She would never forgive me for the things I've done, and, honestly, that doesn't bother me one bit. I wouldn't expect anyone I torment to turn around and start trusting me in any way, but I genuinely don't think she should be around Keith, so I don't care how she'll feel about this.

He's bad news. She just doesn't know it yet.