Y/n couldn’t process it. Her mind was still spinning from what she had seen. Her lips parted, her voice trembling as she forced the words out. “What is this place?”

His eyes slid to the wall behind her and then back to her face.

Then his voice came, low and rough, “This place is where, day after day, night after night, I waited.” His words were strange and sharp. “Wondering, when will you come? When will you take my place? This room called for you today. Are you ready to take my place, my angel?”

His words struck her heart, making it pound so loud she could hear it in her ears. The way he said ‘my angel’ as if she existed only for him, burned inside her, coiling with her fear.

But his eyes never softened. If anything, they grew sharper with every second, filled with vengeance and hate. Yet behind that rage, there was something restrained. As if he was fighting himself, torn between killing her and doing something completely opposite, something he might hate himself for later but couldn’t stop in that moment.

God. She didn’t feel any different. She wanted to hate him, for every time he’d made her hate herself. For making it so difficult to even stand before him now, still looking into his eyes and not crumbling.