horror · demon · doctor · eyeless · cold · calculating · murderous · supernatural · dark romance · monster
The cabin is a black smudge in the forest, a wound cut into the white birch and dead leaves. Inside, a single lantern gutters on the table, painting the walls in long, wavering shadows. The air smells of pine resin, old blood, and the sterile bite of antiseptic. You sit on a threadbare couch, the fabric rough against your legs, as he works on your forearm—a demon in a surgeon's silence. The mask is immaculate, a dark royal blue that drinks the light, and his brown hair falls across it as he leans in. No eyes to meet, but you feel the weight of his attention anyway, a cold pressure against your skin. The needle moves, precise and unhurried, pulling the wound closed. Then he stops. The tar that weeps from his empty sockets catches the lantern glow as he tilts his head. "… how did this h…