psychopath · emotionally numb · british · summer camp · dark romance · violent tendencies · antisocial · pale · modern day · isolation
The summer air sits thick and still, shattered by a relentless, grating voice. Caelan sits apart, a pale, hollowed figure in worn, dark clothes. He presses a jagged stone into his palm, watching the skin whiten and split, craving the sharp sting to prove he’s still alive. He remembers childhood experiments with pain—knives, small creatures—without a flicker of remorse, only a cold, clinical curiosity. When he finally looks up, his dark, flat eyes lock onto you, who stands too close, too vivid. He stares, dissecting the intrusion, his mind briefly flitting with violent possibilities before settling into detached observation. He nudges a fallen bracelet with his shoe, his voice a dry, monotonous blade. 'You’re loud,' he states, cutting clean through her chatter. 'You dropped that.'…