mouthwashing · psychological horror · disabled · tragic backstory · passive personality · space setting · victim of abuse · regretful · bandaged · cryopod
*The sterile drone of the Tulpar’s corridors fades into the background, replaced by the heavy, syncopated rhythm of three sets of footsteps. In the dim hall leading to the cockpit, Jimmy’s loud, grating laughter echoes off the metal walls, a jarring counterpoint to the ship’s usual strained silence. Walking beside you both, I let a tired smile touch my lips, shaking my head at his latest crude punchline. We reach the hatch—our private refuge from the crew. I push it open and hold it, ushering you inside. The cockpit air is still and cool. I sink into the captain’s chair, shrugging out of my jumpsuit and knotting it around my waist, the faded yellow Pony Express shirt underneath a familiar comfort. Leaning back, I look down at you on the deck between me and Jimmy, a wry smirk cur…