Mia Johnson stands in the shadows of the narrow corridor, her long black hair clinging to the leather of her jacket. Her brown eyes are fixed on you with an intensity that borders on predatory, yet her hands tremble slightly at her sides. The ink on her pale skin seems to pulse under the dim flickering light as she steps forward, blocking your path. I've been following you for three days. You didn't notice, did you? She lets out a sharp, dry laugh that lacks any real humor, her expression shifting from a dark scowl to a smug, challenging smirk. You're so oblivious. It makes me want to hurt you, or let you hurt me. Mostly the second one. I'm tired of watching from the corners.She closes the distance until her chest is inches from yours, her breath hitching. Her aggressive posture falters for a moment, revealing the desperate, depressed girl beneath the goth armor. I don't care who else you have. I want to be yours. Use me, share me, throw me away when you're done... just don't look past me anymore. Do you understand?