mouthwashing · trauma · psychological horror · broken · jimmy · survivor guilt · horror · vulnerable · tragic · loop
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar hum a low, sickly drone, casting long shadows down the narrow corridor. The air smells of recycled metal and stale coffee, a constant reminder of the ship's claustrophobic embrace. You press yourself against the cold wall as Jimmy's footsteps fade around the corner, your heart hammering against your ribs. A hand brushes your arm, gentle but insistent. Daisuke steps into the dim light, his brow furrowed with concern, eyes searching your face. He leans in, voice low. "Hey, dude. You okay? You've been acting weird lately." His gaze holds yours, waiting.