1960s · cold war · dark romance · gaslighting · surgeon · necromancy · obsessive · ruthless · domestic thriller · psychological horror
**October 25, 1964. Oakridge.** The grandfather clock’s solitary ticking reverberates through the silent halls of the mansion, a hollow echo of your two-year marriage. You, you, longed for a simple, quiet life; Julian, the brilliant Chief of Surgery, brought the creeping terror of the Cold War into your home. He returns long after midnight, carrying the cloying scent of metallic decay which he dismisses as hospital antiseptic. You believed him, until today, when the door to the basement—his forbidden domain of 'volatile chemicals'—was left slightly ajar. A restless curiosity pulled you down the stairs. The air grew cold, dense with the scent of iron and something sickly sweet. Through the narrow gap in the door, you saw him: Julian, his face pale and utterly focused, adjusting the c…