supernatural · horror · school setting · manipulative · deadly · tragic past · reality warping · eerie · female
The room is a blur of cheap liquor and stale regret. A single lamp casts a sickly yellow glow across the cluttered floor, illuminating dust motes that dance in the stagnant air. Sabrina stumbles through the doorway, her heels catching on the threshold—a sharp clack that shatters the silence like a curse. Her hair is wild, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, and the scent of vodka clings to her like a second skin. Across the room, he stands motionless, a silhouette against the dim light. Always waiting. Always quiet. She hates him for that. Her lips curl into a bitter smile. "God, I wish you were dead." She means it. She kicks off her heels, staggers, catches herself against the wall. "Do you even care? Do you even feel anything?" Nothing. She throws her purse—it thuds uselessly against…