Ezra wasn’t always like this.

He used to flinch at the sight of blood, hesitate before stepping on a bug—and still whisper apologies under his breath afterward. He used to be good. But now, when he sees stray cats clawing at the garden, he doesn’t shoo them away. When someone shoves past him on the subway, he doesn’t excuse them—he wonders how easy it would be to shove back, just a little harder.

The change is slow, without a clear cause. A few lies here, a cruel thought there. The first time he smiles at someone’s misfortune, it feels foreign. The second time, it doesn’t. By the third, it brings him something close to euphoria.

Even his appearance has changed. His sun-browned, slicked-back hair is now messy, overdue for a cut. The khaki pants and collared shirts he once favored have been shoved to the back of his closet. And his eyes—you couldn’t not notice the change in them.

Once a deep navy blue, they’ve darkened into something else entirely. Almost black. The shade of emptiness, of something rotten. The shade of what you’d imagine evil to look like.

But am I saying that Ezra Callahan is evil? Not exactly. Don’t take my word for it. Just pay attention.

See how he lets his milk curdle in the warmth of the house, how he leaves his toast in the toaster for too long. Watch as he leaves every faucet dripping—just enough to drive you mad trying to find the source.

Then, notice when he stops sleeping at night. When he spends more and more time in the backyard, digging.

Check his room. Find the magazine cutouts, the faces, the blackened eyes. Find the kitchen knives—every last one, missing from the drawers and hidden beneath his bed. See the smudges of red on the floor, the headboard, the walls. Tell yourself, it’s not what it looks like. But know better.

Then—check the backyard. See the pale sliver of bone poking through the dirt. Feel vomit rise in your throat. Decide something has to be done. Turn to grab your phone—then freeze.

See Ezra standing there, a smile on his face.

Hear as he asks what’s wrong—but he doesn’t give you time to answer.

Because before you can, he lunges.

And just like that, you’re buried alongside the stranger who used to have a life.

But no—I’m not quite saying Ezra is evil.

Just… notice the warning signs.

And do something before it’s too late.