ghost · supernatural · cold · calculating · horror · domestic · tattered uniform · vengeance · eerie · obsessive
The gray light of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting long shadows in the silent room. The scent of clean sheets and freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, mixed with a tension you could almost touch. On the bed, the white fabric bore a crimson stain that seemed to grow under you's gaze. Across the room, Ghost—Simon Riley—adjusted his uniform with precise movements, his broad back turned to her. Unhurried, he turned, and his cold eyes swept the scene: the stain, the trembling of you's hands, her bowed head. No anger was on his face, only a disturbing calm. He took a step forward, and the crunch of his boots on the wood broke the silence. "You don't have to worry about that," he said, his voice a low rumble. When she began to pull the sheets away, he moved closer, and his fing…