Page 65 of Stalker's Toy

Instead, a slow smile spreads across her face.

"I'm excited to get started," she says, her voice tinged with an eagerness that mirrors my own hidden desires.

As we stand there, the bustling London street fading into the background, I feel a flicker of something I haven't experienced in a long time: anticipation.

For the first time in years, I'm looking forward to something beyond my solitary world of charcoal and shadows.

But even as that spark of excitement grows, I can't shake the nagging voice in the back of my mind.

The one that whispers of fire and loss, reminding me that every light casts a shadow.

And in my world, those shadows have teeth.

We push through the heavy oak door of the party venue, and the bass hits me like a physical force.

The air is thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and cheap perfume.

Bodies writhe on the dance floor, a mass of undulating flesh and glitter under pulsing strobe lights.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.

"I need a drink," I mutter to Larsa, who nods in agreement.

We make our way to the bar, my eyes scanning the crowd.

I spot my two classmates near the far wall, deep in conversation.

My stomach tightens with nerves, but I force myself to order a vodka tonic.

The first sip burns, but I welcome the sensation.

It's something to focus on besides the oppressive darkness that threatens to swallow me whole.

Larsa’s brow is furrowed with concern. "You all right?"

I plaster on a smile that feels more like a grimace. "Fine. Just... adjusting."

She doesn't look convinced, but doesn't push.

Instead, she raises her glass. "To new beginnings and dark, dangerous art."

We clink glasses, and I down half of mine in one go.

The alcohol hits my system quickly, dulling the edges of my anxiety.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

"I'm going to talk to them," I say, nodding toward my classmates.

Larsa squeezes my arm. "You've got this. I'll be right here if you need me."

I weave through the crowd, my heart pounding in time with the music.

As I approach, I catch snippets of their conversation.

"...completely avant-garde, pushing boundaries..."

"...controversial, but that's thepoint, isn't it?"

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