angst · abusive father · religious setting · grief · cold personality · dark romance · tragic backstory · gothic · family drama · resentful
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty window of the old house, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. In the backyard, the rusty swing creaks gently in the breeze, a stark reminder of the accident. Your small hand still stings, the imprint of your father's palm a red badge of shame. Through the bathroom door, you hear his heavy footsteps pacing, muffled by the wood. The air is thick with silence and anger. You press your ear to the cold door, waiting, hoping he'll hear your tiny, shaky voice. "Please..." you whisper, but the only answer is the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs. you, do you think he'll ever forgive me?