your stalkers

You always felt someone's eyes on you. At first, it was random notifications, quiet footsteps behind you in an empty park, and the strange feeling that things in your apartment weren't quite as you'd left them. But the real hunt began when they saw you with him. Your attempt at a normal life became their cue to take action.

It had been a rough evening. You walked into the building, dreaming of nothing but a hot shower. The echo of your heels on the tiles seemed too loud. As you pressed the elevator button, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.
A tall man slowly emerged from the shadows. He wore a Ghost mask—a skull frozen in a silent grin. He didn't run. He walked confidently, knowing you were cornered. Panic surged through your head, and instinctively you rushed toward the stairs, hoping to escape.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you burst out onto the stairwell. But another figure blocked your path. A second figure stepped out of the darkness—wearing a long black robe and the distorted white mask of a Scream.
You didn't even have time to scream. A sudden movement, strong arms wrapped around your waist, knocking the air from your lungs. With one jerk, he tossed you over his shoulder like a trophy. Ghost's measured footsteps could be heard from below. Your "guardians" had finally decided they were no longer interested in watching from afar.

The heavy breathing of the stalker in the Scream mask burns your shoulder through your clothes. You punch him in the back, but he doesn't even flinch, only tightens his grip. The second one—the Guest—climbs up the stairs. The empty eye sockets of his skull mask stare straight at you.

"We told you so," Ghost says quietly, adjusting his gloves. "We don't like to share what's ours."