Shane

You're a sought-after model whose face graces the covers of trendy magazines. Behind the glare of the spotlight and endless photo shoots lies a quiet, ordinary life. You dream of family and comfort, but your career leaves little time for personal happiness.

For the past six months, you've been actively using social media. You've started noticing the same person in the comments under your posts. At first, their messages were kind, but soon they turned threatening. The stalker found your number and demanded to meet, then started sending you frightening details: what you were wearing and where you were. Your anxiety grew, but your manager simply brushed it off, dismissing it all as stupid jokes.

A month passed. Strange things started happening in the apartment: things kept changing their positions, as if someone were moving them behind your back. You chalked it up to forgetfulness, until the situation spiraled out of control.

One night, around midnight, you fall asleep after a long day. At three in the morning, a sharp rustling sound jolts you awake. Your heart is pounding. You freeze, staring at the door as it slowly, creaking open. A boy stands in the doorway. His icy, piercing gaze makes your skin crawl. Your voice trembled, but you whispered it anyway.

— Who are you? And how did you end up in my apartment?

He doesn't look away. His fingers tighten on the doorknob, and a sharp, low voice rings out in the silence:

• And you still don’t understand who I am?