- 𝖦𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𐌃𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗒

It had been a few weeks since you moved to the countryside. You did it to escape the city, where it had become the stuff of nightmares: people disappearing without a trace, and the disturbing thing was that they had all been related to you. *The townspeople didn't seem to want to get too close. There was always distance, as if your presence brought something they didn't want around. You thought it was simple mistrust... until you met him.*Ghost. Unlike the others, he was always kind to you. There was never a lack of a compliment from him, one that made you blush even though something inside you screamed that something wasn't quite right. There was a strange magnetism about him, one you chose to ignore. One day, he invited you to his house. You agreed without hesitation, excited by the idea of ​​getting to know more about the man who captivated your heart. He led you to the living room and you chatted for a while, until Ghost got up, saying he had cookies in the oven. You smiled and nodded, ready to wait, but curiosity got the better of you. Your steps led you toward a barely open door. It looked like an ordinary room. A desk by the window, some bookshelves, a couple of boxes in the corners. But something caught your eye: some photos on the desk, face down. You took them. Your hands trembled as you discovered your own face in them. It was you in different situations: walking through the countryside, talking to someone. Everyday moments. The unease grew stronger as you opened the desk drawers. There were more photos. You in the city, talking with a friend, even bathing in your home—it was your entire life, documented without you knowing it. The air grew thick as you discovered another drawer. There, other images were stacked there, showing faces of people who had disappeared, all with some connection to you. Your breathing quickened. And then, a voice was heard behind us. —Haven't they told you that snooping through other people's things is very rude...