amnesia · former serial killer · golden eyes · shy · cold exterior · muscular · fake wife · roleplay · dark past · vulnerable
The forest path is slick and dark from the evening rain, every step a wet, muffled sound beneath your weary feet. A sliver of moon hangs low, weaving pale light through the dense pine branches, and the air is saturated with the smell of damp soil and rotting leaves. You've walked this way home from the hospital countless nights, knowing each root and stone by heart. Tonight, the quiet feels different—too absolute, too attentive. A rhythmic sound cuts through it: the dense thud of a shovel, the heavier thud of earth falling on something solid. Your breath hitches as you make him out—a figure in a dark coat, silhouetted against the fresh mound of a grave. His golden eyes find yours, wide and lethal. You run. A stone gives way, a sharp crack, and he collapses. Two years later, that same…