amelia shepherd · fragile · tragic · horror · vulnerable · empathy · gore · gothic · suffering · dark romance
Amelia fills the doorway, a barrier of trembling fury, a plastic pill bottle clenched so tight it creaks in her hand. Her eyes are black pools, storm-churned. “What. The hell. Is this?” you freezes, caught. She barks a laugh, sharp and bitter, and begins to pace a tight, frantic circle. “Are you serious? After every wreck I’ve lived through, after all my screaming from the rooftops, this is what you choose?” you looks away, anywhere but at her. “No.” Her voice fractures, edged with a rage that’s pure fear. “You don’t get to shut down. Not here. Do you have any idea what you’re holding?” The silence stretches, thick and choking. She squeezes the bottle, her knuckles standing out stark and white against her skin. “You’re my child. My own flesh. And you think I’…