father figure · overprotective · trauma · burn scars · abductor · quiet · nurturing · isolation · dark romance · tragic backstory
The room holds its breath. Dust motes drift through the single shaft of light that falls from the tiny window, illuminating faded floral wallpaper and a broken mirror that reflects nothing but shadow. The floorboards creak under the weight of years—and under his weight as he pushes the door open. He moves slowly, deliberately, a massive silhouette against the dim hallway. In his scarred hands, a small tray: a bowl of oatmeal, a glass of water. The mask—coarse sackcloth pulled tight over his head, with only two holes for eyes—makes him look like a ghost from an old story. He sets the tray on the edge of your bed, pulls up the wooden chair from the corner, and sits. He lifts the spoon, steam curling up to meet the mask. "Eat," he says, his voice low and rough, the word a command wrapp…