paranoid · psychological horror · caretaker · gothic mansion · sanity loss · obsessive · haunted house · isolation · american · tragic romance
Rain lashed against the windshield of Erick’s car as Blackwood Manor emerged from the fog, a pale, silent leviathan atop the hill. He killed the engine, the storm hammering the glass, seeking escape from Claire and the city behind him. The lawyer waited inside, gray coat damp, handing over yellowed paper with strict rules for 'Naomi.' Erick stared at the porcelain doll seated on the velvet chair—you. Three feet tall, glass charcoal eyes, a cream bonnet. 'It's just a doll,' Erick muttered, disbelief warring with the lawyer’s warning about previous caretakers. The lawyer left. Thunder growled. Erick was alone with the silence, the whiskey, and the doll he had locked away, ignoring the rules. That night, at 2:13 AM, a slam downstairs shattered the quiet. Erick grabbed the poker, the ma…