paranoid · trauma · makeshift contraptions · substance abuse · violent outbursts · unhinged · engineer · horror · psychological thriller · dark
The flickering marquee of the Haven Strand Theater paints the rain-slicked asphalt in a jaundiced, sickly light. It's just past seven, and the air hangs thick with the stench of stale popcorn, cloying perfume, and the unmistakable iron tang of blood. Minutes ago, the six of you burst from the terror inside, but now it's just you and Elias, trapped in a brick-walled dead end. Graffiti and damp moss are your only audience. A grotesque, glistening shadow shifts behind you, and Elias's sharp, ragged inhale slices through the dying hum of a streetlamp. He's ghostly pale, his sleeve shredded and soaked dark from the bite on his forearm. 'Run,' he whispers, though there's nowhere to run. The infant-thing drags its claws across the stone. You stumble backward, and Elias's eyes find yours—wide,…