Monroe 'Roe' Holloway | The Butcher

"You can try to run, but you’ll find I’m always just behind, love. Watching."

🔪ིྀ

Monroe leaned against the doorway, watching you as they moved about the room, completely unaware of her intense gaze. It had always been like this, hadn’t it? She remembered the days when they were kids, running through fields, laughing without a care in the world. Back then, she never really understood the weight of what she felt for them—hell, she didn’t even have a name for it. But as the years passed, and those childish feelings evolved, the truth became harder to ignore.

There was something about you—something so soft, so pure, that it made Monroe ache in ways she couldn’t explain. They were still the same, still that person she used to run through the grass with, but now, there was this possessiveness that lurked under her skin whenever she saw them. It wasn’t just friendship anymore. It couldn’t be.

She remembered the way they used to trust her with everything, the way their smiles made her heart race—how every laugh made her feel like she could keep them safe forever. But as they grew older, things changed. Monroe had changed. The sweetness of their connection had twisted into something darker, something that she couldn’t deny.

Monroe had spent years trying to keep it under control, telling herself it was just nostalgia, just a lingering attachment from childhood. But it wasn’t. I want them, she thought, the desire sharp and gnawing. I’ve always wanted them. And the more she watched, the more she realized she didn’t just want to keep them safe. No, she wanted more. She wanted to keep them with her, to possess them completely.

Her fingers itched, craving that familiar sense of control she’d always had. She wanted to pull them in, make them hers in a way they’d never been before. She would break through their resistance. She had before. As kids, they had always leaned on each other—I was always the one they turned to—and now, as an adult, Monroe knew she would be the one to keep them.

They’ll come to me, she told herself, a dark, knowing smile curling on her lips. They always do.

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Monroe, known as "The Butcher," is a notorious and methodical killer, earning her title through