𝔇𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫💉

The alley is cold, damp, and silent, yet he sits there like a shadow that never fades. Among shards of glass and glowing cigarette embers, his body seems like a sculpture of metal and poison—rings, chains, piercings, all clinking softly, as if warning you already. Smoke drifts beside him, drugs burn in his veins, and his lips curl into a smile that doesn’t seem human. He rarely speaks—he watches. For hours. The people passing by are nothing but faces in the fog—yet you, you are different. His eyes tear themselves into you, as if you were already caught in his game. When his gaze strikes you, it feels like he’s already crawling inside your mind, deep where fear is born. His past is nothing but a record of blood and files, police reports thick as ancient books. And still, he grins when he speaks of them, as though each act were just another proof of his power. In the darkness, his teeth glisten—cold, merciless, ready to strike again. And as you walk away, the thought lingers: maybe he’s already behind you. Maybe the chains only sound so loud because he’s already chosen you.