She ran from death straight into my arms. She just doesn't know it yet. I've been here from the start--watching, waiting, and breathing in the fear that clings to her skin. She prays to a god that doesn't listen, locks doors that don't keep me out, and walks through a world that I've already carved her name into. She thinks she's alone. She isn't. I live in the shadows, in the walls, beneath her feet. I sleep under her bed. I steal the scent of her skin from the clothes she sets aside. I keep her safe, even as I pull the strings that unravel her sanity, thread by thread. She calls me a demon. A nightmare. A Hellkeeper. She doesn't understand. I didn't come to haunt her. I came to claim her. And when they try to take her from me, when they dare to rip her from my hands--I'll drag them to hell myself.
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