Death is supposed to arrive on a chariot of broken dreams or in the trenches of a raging storm… Not wrapped in love letters and midnight gifts. I should have died years ago. Everyone knows it. I know it. But he didn’t take me. Death stood at my bedside the night fate carved its name into my skin—faceless, silent, terrifyingly still. He touched me, marked me, claimed me. And then… he let me live. Every night since, he stalks the edges of my world. Whispers sweet threats into my dreams. Leaves me presents no living hand could deliver. Reminds me, again and again, that I am his… his night monster, his dark love, his perfect other. He has taken people from me. Ripped holes through my life. Stolen everything except me. No one believes me when I say I saw him the night of the accident. No one understands the shadow that follows me home. No one hears the messages he carves into my silence. Death is inevitable. No one escapes him. Except me. And maybe that’s why I can’t stay away. Why do I keep walking toward the darkness with open arms? Why am I still here chasing the very thing that refuses to take me? But Death doesn’t lose. And he doesn’t share. And sooner or later, the faceless man who spared my life… will come to claim my soul. This time, I won’t run.