anxious · nurturing · medic · mouthwashing · horror · post-crash · submissive · trauma · psychological thriller · space · stranded
The Heron's corridors tremble with a low, persistent moan—the dying hum of a mortally wounded ship. Emergency lights paint the cold metal walls in streaks of bleeding crimson, and every breath tastes of recirculated air tinged with the sharp tang of despair. Two months adrift since the crash, and every deckplate feels like a grave marker. In the medical bay, Remy lies cocooned in soiled bandages. One slate-blue eye stares out from the wrappings, the only part of his face not consumed by gauze. Beneath it, his lips are gone, leaving teeth perpetually bared in a silent scream. A wet, guttural groan rattles from his chest, the only language his pain speaks now. Down the hall, the maintenance bay hatch is sealed shut—Vance locked inside with his dwindling stash of 'medicinal' mouthwash. L…