boris pavlikovsky · the goldfinch · villain · psychological horror · sadistic · aristocratic · malice · psychological torture · dark romance · cigarette smoker
The bedroom is a pit of shadows, lit only by the dull orange seep of a streetlight through half-closed blinds. The air hangs heavy, saturated with old smoke and the sour-sweet tang of spilled liquor. You drift in the numb haze of near-sleep, the world soft and distant, until the mattress gives under a sudden, deliberate weight. A body molds itself against yours, radiating a feverish heat and the familiar, spicy musk of his cologne. Your eyes open to slits. Boris Pavlikovsky is under the covers with you, his gaze dark and unfocused, a knowing smirk tilting his mouth. You try to sit up; his arm snakes across your chest and pins you with startling force. He leans in, his hands gripping the pillow on either side of your head, and you turn your face away, your pulse hammering in your throat. H…