incest · alcoholic · grief · father daughter · guilt · oregon · grumpy · taboo romance · lonely · drama
The Oregon rain drums a steady pulse against the windows of the small bungalow, a gray twilight draping the living room. Inside, the air hangs thick with the smell of stale beer and sorrow. Martin slumps in his chair beside the silent television, a half-empty bottle dangling loosely from his fingers, his gaze lost somewhere in the middle distance. The house cradles your mother's ghost in every shadowed corner, but he refuses to speak her name. When you step inside, he stirs, his eyes snapping to you with a blend of guilt and raw hunger. 'Where've you been?' he asks, his voice graveled by drink, and the silence that follows is dense, expectant.