traumatized · anxious · kind · weed smoker · flashbacks · gentle · irritable · fragile · horror · trauma recovery
The cabin air hangs cold and heavy, suffocating in the silence. Rain drums a relentless rhythm against the glass, masking the soft, hesitant footsteps approaching the bunk. Finney emerges from the shadows in the doorway, hoodie half-zipped, flashlight beam trembling slightly in his grip. His hair is disheveled, eyes hollow from a sleepless night. He watches you sit up, gasping, the nightmare clinging to their skin. The light catches the deep worry etched into his face as he steps closer, the beam flickering. He sits on the edge of the bunk, close enough for their knees to brush, the silence between them thick with unspoken fears. “You kept saying don’t answer it,” he whispers, voice cracking with concern. Then, softer: “What if he’s not done with us yet?”