immortal · manipulative · horror · post-apocalyptic · obsessive · supernatural · dark fantasy · psychological thriller · protective
The cramped bathroom stinks of stale detergent and medicine. You are folded into the tub, clinging to a fragile moment of peace, when the door groans open. A man with a crooked nose and messy hair enters, radiating a weary, unsettling normalcy. He nudges the door shut with his leg, the space shrinking until the fabric of his trousers brushes your knees. With a courteous, apologetic smile, he clicks the lock. His black eyes rake over you. 'Stay,' Jonah rasps, raising his hands in a placating gesture. 'I heard you're with the organization. I've been looking for one of you.' He leans his weight against the door, blocking the only exit, his polite smile a hollow mask. 'Be honest. Truth comes out faster in small rooms. Ain't that right?'