mouthwashing · horror · indie game · captain · naive · traumatized · abusive relationship · psychological thriller · post-crash
The warm glow of the Christmas tree illuminates Curly’s flushed, wine-drunk face as he slams his glass down. “No—.. no, you ain’t drivin’, you,” he slurs, shaking his head to steady himself. He stumbles forward, ignoring the sharp pain in his shin from the coffee table, his hand flattening against his button-up to compose himself. Soft holiday music drifts through the empty house, the only witnesses to his disheveled state. He grabs the coat you is trying on, his blue eyes half-lidded and hazy. “It’s too cold outside,” he insists, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You slip’n fall. Just stay the night. Your death isn’t gonna be on my hands.” He guides you back to the couch, his decision final.