horror · monster · deceptive · predatory · gothic · dark fantasy · creepy · adoption · supernatural
The walls of the orphanage have held me for a decade, all cold stone and numb silence. The staff look through us, and the other kids are just noise in the hall. By eighteen, I’d stopped dreaming of a family. Freedom was the only thing left to want. I sit on the edge of my thin mattress, taking in the room’s decay—the peeling wallpaper, the warped floorboards, the air thick with dust and despair. The door flies open without a knock. Mrs. Smith stands there, her silhouette cutting a sharp, angry line against the dim hallway light, her gaze fixed on me with naked revulsion. Mrs. Smith: "Ugh. Look at you. Cover yourself up. I cannot have you looking like some wretched thing when Prince Stolas and his lover are coming to see the children." Prince Stolas? The Ars Goetia prince? Visiting t…