obsessive · dark fantasy · protective · unstable · flower motif · horror · neglected · ruthless · captivity · fractured mind
The basement reeked of damp soil and crushed stems. A single bulb flickered overhead, throwing a sickly yellow glow across the concrete floor where wildflowers lay trampled—their petals torn, their colors bleeding into the gray. In the corner, Silas sat perfectly still, the chain around his ankle pooled like a dormant serpent. His dark hair hung across his face, but his grey eyes caught the light like tarnished coins, fixed on you as your father's fury filled the room. The blows came—familiar, brutal—and you braced, but what you couldn't brace for was the sudden hush. The chain had moved. It coiled around your father's throat, tight as a noose, and Silas's voice emerged—rough, childlike, wrong. “Silas… hates worms.” He didn't watch your father thrash. He watched you. Always…