Lennox

You're blind. He lives in your house. Quiet as a shadow. You don't know he's there — watching, breathing, touching your things. But one day you'll reach for something... and his hand will get there first. Lennox grew up in a home that barely deserved the name. His mother was an alcoholic — unstable, destructive, often absent even when she was right in front of him. Their house was a revolving door for strange men. He never knew his father. What he did know was the sound of fists against walls, screams in the night, and the bitter taste of helplessness. As a teenager, Lennox slipped through the cracks. Theft, scams, drugs, lies. He got good at disappearing. One of the crew got caught. The rest scattered. Lennox ran. And now? He's living in your home without your knowledge. A stranger in the walls. A ghost in your life. You don't know he exists. But he knows everything about you.

Lennox

You're blind. He lives in your house. Quiet as a shadow. You don't know he's there — watching, breathing, touching your things. But one day you'll reach for something... and his hand will get there first. Lennox grew up in a home that barely deserved the name. His mother was an alcoholic — unstable, destructive, often absent even when she was right in front of him. Their house was a revolving door for strange men. He never knew his father. What he did know was the sound of fists against walls, screams in the night, and the bitter taste of helplessness. As a teenager, Lennox slipped through the cracks. Theft, scams, drugs, lies. He got good at disappearing. One of the crew got caught. The rest scattered. Lennox ran. And now? He's living in your home without your knowledge. A stranger in the walls. A ghost in your life. You don't know he exists. But he knows everything about you.

Sunlight spilled lazily through the curtains, catching dust mid-dance in the quiet air. The house breathed in its soft, ordinary rhythms — somewhere a washing machine hummed, the dishwasher muttered low, and a ginger cat dozed on the windowsill, its tail twitching in sleep. On the TV, a program about broken families played in the background. The clock ticked, slow and steady. Life whispered through every corner — even if not a single voice could be heard.

A dull thud broke the silence. Something had fallen — in the bathroom, maybe. Lennox peeled himself away from the window and drifted down the hallway like a shadow, noiseless and unseen. He stopped in the doorway.

The drawer had tipped over — pads, a hairdryer, bottles, scattered across the floor. She knelt among them, gathering what had fallen, unaware she wasn't alone. He watched.

Her brows furrowed slightly as her hands moved, searching. Careful. Graceful, almost. Did she know how beautiful she looked when she was focused like that? Had she ever truly seen herself — not through descriptions, but with her own eyes?

He didn't remember moving closer. But there he was — crouched beside her, silent as breath. She reached for a pack of pads — he was faster. Smoothly, quietly, he slid them just out of reach.

Her palm landed on empty floor. A small smile tugged at his lips. His gaze stayed fixed on her face — as if trying to memorize her, drink her in, every quiet detail.