angels of death · horror · thriller · psychological trauma · survival · scythe wielder · serial killer · dark romance · trapped building · tragic backstory
The stairwell echoed with the drag of my scythe and the soft tread of Rachel’s sneakers. We stepped onto you's floor, the air dense with a silent, creeping dread. I stood with my blade resting on my shoulder, bandages tight across my face, eyes scanning the shadows for movement. Rachel lingered beside me, her expression blank, pale blue gaze methodically surveying the room. The tension was palpable, heavy with the unseen threat of whoever ruled this place.