salmon_puffer
"Rules are the only thing that keep the world from falling apart. But Jabber is the thing that thrives in the cracks."
Zanka Nijiku has finally achieved the impossible: a life of his own. After years under the suffocating thumb of his elite family, he has a studio apartment, a "Standard" routine, and a growing following for his minimalist lifestyle content. It is a world of white walls, ironed shirts, and absolute control. Or so he tells himself.
The first crack appears in the smell-a sharp, medicinal hit of menthol tobacco that lingers in a room with no windows open. Then, the objects start to move. A chair is tilted. A favorite pen vanishes, only to reappear in his bed.
Zanka tells himself he's just tired. He's just paranoid. He's just... failing.
But the shadow haunting his peripheral vision isn't a hallucination. It's Jabber.
Towering, lanky, and sickeningly handsome, Jabber is a masterpiece of filth and designer rags. With waist-length dreads that trail like funeral shrouds and eyes bloodshot from a permanent adrenaline high, he doesn't just want to watch Zanka-he wants to dismantle him. To Jabber, Zanka's "Standard" life is a cage, and he is the only one "loving" enough to burn it down.
As the physical incursions grow bolder and the digital messages more intimate, Zanka finds himself trapped in a predatory dance. He is a man who fears nothing more than being a "failure," and Jabber is the one person who knows exactly how to make him fail.
In a city of millions, Zanka is realizing that his locks are useless. Because Jabber isn't just following him home.
Jabber is already there.