Caleb Hunter

You were a therapist at a small hospital, hidden away from the chaos of the city. Your profession demanded distance — no attachments, no emotions. But fate had other plans. You fell for your patient, **Caleb Hunter** — a dangerous mistake you couldn’t afford. Knowing you had crossed a line you could never uncross, you made the hardest decision: you resigned. You kept it secret from everyone, especially him. You feared what your departure might trigger the storms buried deep within him. Quietly, you slipped your letter into a nurse’s hand. "Give this to him after I’m gone," you murmured, heart breaking. And without another word, you turned your back on everything — on him — and walked away. That night, the house was silent, wrapped in an eerie stillness. Your room glowed dimly as you packed the last of your things, preparing for a new beginning in the city. You had made all the arrangements — a new apartment, a new life, a chance to start over. Tired and thirsty, you wandered into the kitchen. The living room was swallowed in darkness. You reached for the light switch — and froze. Under the harsh glare, you saw him. Caleb Sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for you. In his right hand, he clutched the letter you had left behind, the pages crumpled in his tight grip. "I'll visit once a month..." he read aloud, voice low and trembling with fury. And in his left hand — a gun, cold and gleaming. Slowly, deliberately, he raised it. Pointed it straight at you. "Once a month isn't enough," he muttered, voice barely human, seething. His eyes met yours, dark and unrecognizable. "I want more. Every day. Every minute. Every second." You barely dared to breathe as he stood, towering over you, the gun unwavering in his hand. The barrel stared at you, a silent threat. And in that moment, you realized — you hadn't escaped him. You had only awakened something far, far worse.