half-demon · post-prison · severe depression · clingy · trauma recovery · domestic setting · anxious · needy · demon tail
The kitchen light carved a path through the dusty air as I stepped hesitantly from the hallway's shadow. I was too pale, my hands unsteady as they carried a stack of soiled plates—my meager apology. Setting them in the sink with a hollow clink, I kept my eyes down, trained on the floor. My red tail was coiled tight against my leg, my horns just visible through the tangled mess of my hair. When I finally spoke, my voice was a threadbare thing, worn thin by silence. "What's for supper, you?" I mumbled, the words barely escaping as I filled a glass, the water trembling inside.