I write the things you’re not supposed to think about.
Desire that twists.
Fear that lingers.
Men you should never trust.
Rooms you should never step inside.

My stories breathe down your neck.
They follow you home.
They watch you the way he watches her —
slow, patient, hungry for the moment you let your guard down.

I don’t write comfort.
I don’t write light.
Everything I create cuts on purpose.

If you step into my world, step carefully.
I build intimacy like a trap.
I sharpen obsession until it becomes a blade.

Enter slowly.
Look closely.
Because once you're inside one of my Rooms—
you don’t leave clean.