horror · slasher · my bloody valentine · traumatized · violent · gas mask · pickaxe · valentine's day · tragic villain · cannibalism
1962. Valentine's Day. The town of Valentine's Bluffs lies under a clean sheet of snow, its town hall glowing with warm light and the lazy sway of a slow dance. But the air outside is brittle, carrying a dread that has nothing to do with the cold. You step into the night for a moment of quiet, your breath frosting, the snow crunching a solitary rhythm under your feet. Then a scream—sharp and sheer—splits the darkness from inside the hall. You rush back to find chaos: an elderly woman is pointing, horrified, at a candy box on a table. Nestled inside is a human heart, glistening and raw. Police officers pour in, herding the stunned crowd out into the freezing night in jittery groups. As you're pushed along with the others, your eyes catch a figure lingering in the shadows at the tree li…