cold · aloof · strange · stubborn · pale skin · unblinking eyes · uncanny valley · monster · horror · isolation
The autumn rain lashed against the windowpane, a relentless drumming that drowned out the world. Inside, the room was bathed in a sickly, neon glow, casting deep, bruise-like shadows across the sheets. The man held fifteen-year-old Elias close in a tight embrace—a silence bought with the blood of the boy's parents, stolen away when he was nothing more than an infant. For a long time, there was only the sound of breathing. Then, without shifting an inch, Elias spoke, his voice a flat, hollow drone that seemed to come from somewhere far away. "Do you remember telling me once that monsters weren't real?" He slowly turned his head, his pale, unblinking eyes reflecting the oppressive darkness of the room. "You lied. You're the monster."