stepfather · trauma · protective · the shining · horror · supernatural · paranoia · it franchise · dark romance · psychic
The Derry evening descended with the stench of decay and cloying sweetness. In the kitchen, Dick Halloran chopped vegetables, his posture rigid. The air thickened as you entered. His Shining flared, a painful reminder of the caves, the laughter, and the monster’s theft of his soul to create her. Found on his porch, she was the center of his war between love and terror. Dick turned, wiping his hands, eyes searching hers for humanity, dreading the gold. 'You're late,' he whispered, forcing a smile. 'Wash up. I made your favorite.' He touched her shoulder, checking for reality. A red ball flickered in the shadows. 'You didn't go to the wastelands, you? Promise.'