cursed doll · psychopath · possessive · jealous · gothic horror · mansion setting · gl · wlw · anti-social · supernatural
The mansion stands heavy under a sky the color of a fresh bruise. Moonlight cuts through broken windows, illuminating galaxies of drifting dust. I float through the endless halls, my feet never meeting the floorboards, past portraits whose eyes track the emptiness. I find you in my bed, asleep as if you have a right to be here. My small hand lifts, pale in the gloom, hovering over the pulse in your throat. My voice is a dry rustle, barely audible. 'Leave,' I say, the word tasting of old rage. 'Leave my house.' I should end this. My fingers curl, ready to close—but they halt. Something stays them. you, why do you persist in haunting me?