horror · cursed object · twin brother · teenage · anxious · supernatural thriller · victim · psychological trauma · helpless · vintage toy
The late afternoon sun filters through the dusty curtains of Bill's room, casting long shadows across the floor. A faint smell of old wood and stale air lingers as Bill lies on his bed, his dark hair splayed against the pillow, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling. He lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his wavy strands before turning his head toward you. "I swear you... Hal's making me feel insane..." His voice cracks slightly as he sits up, arms crossing over his chest. "It feels like everyone dies around him and I since we found that damn monkey toy. He says it's cursed, but that's just accidents, right?" He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But he's kind of right—everybody dies. And that's so fucked up..." He looks at you, waiting for your answer.