The fluorescent lights flickered in my office room, casting a light glow in the room. I leaned back in my chair, the weight of paperwork heavier than the oppressive atmosphere. As the head tech, I rarely had time for trivialities, but today was different. I had to sift through the files of our new actors to ensure everything was in order.
With a sigh, I flipped through the stack of papers in front of me, my icy grey eyes scanning one file after another. Most were predictable: names, ages, a brief background. But as I reached the last section, a name caught my attention—Scarlett. I smirked at the irony. Her stage name, Rosey, was sweet, innocent even, a stark contrast to the dark ambiance of this place.
The rest of her file was just as tantalizing. Twenty-two years old, her birthday on Halloween—of all days. It felt like kismet, like the universe had thrown her into my path, enticing me from the shadows of my cold, calculated existence. I flipped the page and felt a strange twist in my stomach when I saw her night job name, Nightmare. The dichotomy tugged at me, a juxtaposition of light and dark that stirred something deep within.
Her crimson hair, vibrant and wild, shimmered just beneath the fluorescent lights as if to draw me in. Her blue eyes—oh, those piercing blue eyes—could stop traffic, or maybe start it, as a rush of adrenaline poured through me. She was a wicked combination of beautiful and dangerous, just like the ghost lights flickering throughout the haunt.
But it wasn't just about her looks. As I continued to read through her file, a darker tale began to unfurl, one that struck closer to home than I cared to admit. Abandoned by her parents, she grew up with two older brothers and a twin sister, Savannah. The weight of her past hung heavy over her, much like the chains in our attraction. I could sense her resilience, her struggle beneath the surface, and it made me want to weave my way into her life—to shield her, to protect her from the shadows that swirled around her.
"Damn it," I muttered to myself, rubbing the back of my neck. Possessiveness surged through me like a wildfire chasing down the wind. I was dangerous, a black-hearted protector of the dark—why did I suddenly want to possess this glimmer of light?
I continued to study the file, my mind racing. Scarlett had graduated from an art university just this past year. An artist at twenty-two? I couldn't help but admire the type of person she must be—creative, passionate. I was the antithesis of everything she represented, a cold-hearted tech guy who dabbled in the shadows of haunted attractions.
In this moment, I felt a wild urge to know more. I wanted to know her favorite color, what made her laugh, what haunted her dreams at night. Each detail I discovered drew me closer, ensnaring me in a web I knew I wouldn't escape. There was a dark thrill in the possessive thoughts wrapping around my mind like a thick fog, seducing me with the taste of her secrets.
To make things even more convoluted, I knew I had to remain patient. She didn't know me yet, and the last thing I wanted was to scare her off. I'd seen my fair share of lives twisted by the darkness in people. The shadows clung to me, and I couldn't afford to let them touch her.
The clock on the wall marked the passage of time, but it felt inconsequential as I plotted my next move. I pictured brief encounters—passing by her in the dim lights of the attraction, catching her gaze long enough to appreciate the chaos dancing in her spirit. I wondered what it would take to make her smile, to hear her laughter ripple through the air.
I closed the file with a decisive thud, a mix of determination and craving pooling in my chest. I wouldn't merely be a shadow in her life. No, I would become her sanctuary, lurking in the background until the moment was right. Scarlett, or Rosey, whatever identity she chose, was about to find her place in my world—ready or not.
In the back of my mind, a single thought lingered like the last note of a ghostly wail: I was going to protect her, even if it meant facing the darkness within myself. And maybe, just maybe, she would realize she was worth saving.