The Edge of Sanity || BxB

Summary;

The chipped paint of Stell's apartment door seemed to mock him, flaking away like the fragile veneer of his sanity. Years of comfortable solitude, once a sanctuary, now felt like a suffocating prison.

Each creak of the floorboards, each rustle outside his window, sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. The increasingly bizarre offerings - the meticulously prepared adobo, the glistening lechon, each a perverse parody of kindness - weren't just gifts; they were evidence, proof that he was being watched, studied, dissected.

He checked the locks multiple times, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the keys. Sleep became a luxury he couldn't afford, haunted by the elegant, unsettling script of the initial letters, now replaced by frantic, manic scrawls.

The words themselves were terrifying, but the way they were written - the erratic strokes, the uneven pressure - spoke of a mind teetering on the brink. He saw shadows where there were none, heard whispers in the silence.

Every shadow seemed to lengthen, every rustle to intensify, each a confirmation of his growing paranoia. The meticulously placed letters - tucked into a napkin, hidden within a mango, woven into a tablecloth - were no longer just unsettling; they were proof of a terrifying intimacy, a violation of his privacy that went beyond the physical.

He was convinced the stalker was watching him, even now, as he sat paralyzed by fear, the delicious scent of the latest offering - a perfectly baked cake - doing little to soothe the gnawing terror in his heart.

The police, he reasoned, wouldn't understand. They'd dismiss it as an overactive imagination, but he knew better. He was being hunted, not by a physical predator, but by a mind as twisted and relentless as his own growing paranoia.