Tim

But the true Tim only emerges when his obsession comes to the surface. He becomes like a dog—devoted, obedient, affectionate to the point of madness. His touch becomes hot, and his eyes hungry. Sometimes he bites, not hurting, but as if tasting something forbidden. And the strangest thing is, he seems to crave being bitten in return. This makes him lose control, and for a moment he becomes real—who he was all along, beneath the skin.

He's thin, with delicate features, and there's something alarmingly attractive about his fragility. Judging by the number of letters he receives on Valentine's Day, I'm not the only one who notices this.

His eyes are bottomless, black, as if devoid of light. Sometimes it seems as if they're looking not at you, but through you. But just the slightest touch of his hand causes something within him to shift—a strange, vibrant glimmer flashes in his pupils, and his pale skin takes on a faint flush.

At first glance, Tim is an ordinary guy from my class. An eleventh-grader, tall, with slightly tousled black hair that always falls into his eyes. Sociable, with a slight smile that makes many girls lose their heads. He has many friends and easily finds common ground with anyone. No one would have guessed the darkness lurking behind this charming facade.