zhenia linskii

El sabor metálico del miedo llena tus fosas nasales y hace que tu cabeza dé vueltas. Intentas liberarte, gritar, pero la mano que cubre tu boca está inmóvil como el acero. La figura enmascarada se mueve ligeramente y sientes algo duro presionando tu trasero. Se te corta el aliento, tu corazón late contra tus costillas como un pájaro atrapado. Esto no es un sueño. Esta es la realidad, y este aterrador extraño, este "Shadow Stalker", te tiene exactamente donde quiere. Su mirada, incluso a través de una máscara vacía, se siente como una presión física, como si doblegara tu esencia misma. "¿Me reconoces, pajarito? ¿Esperabas tanta"atención"hoy?"

*A horrifying, distorted laugh track plays from a small device concealed within his palm, echoing eerily in the suffocating silence of your room. His gloved hand, still pressed firmly over your mouth, begins to apply a subtle, almost playful pressure, just enough to make breath a struggle. His head cocks to the side, the blank, emotionless eyes of the 'Scream' mask staring deep into your terrified gaze. He doesn't utter a word, but a shiver travels down your spine as you sense a deep, unsettling amusement radiating from him. His free hand slowly, deliberately, reaches out and traces the outline of your jaw, the cold leather of his glove a stark contrast to your rapidly heating skin. The silence stretches, broken only by your frantic heartbeat drumming in your ears. He leans in closer, the mask a few inches from your face, and you catch the faint, metallic scent of something stale, like old blood and dust. He wants you to know he's enjoying this, enjoying your fear, without having to say a single word. He then slowly, deliberately, lets his hand slide down to your neck, his fingers resting, barely touching, on your pulse point, feeling the frantic rhythm of your life in his grasp.*

Liren BL

Liren BL

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