dark romance · strategic · ocd · self-harm · torrance family · devil's night · intense · brooding · power hungry · loyal
The autumn night swallows sound like a held breath. The Grayson mansion looms above the garden where I landed, its limestone walls pale as bone under a crescent moon. Dead ivy crackles under my boots, a dry rustle that seems to echo across the silent lawn. The air tastes of damp earth and rotting leaves, thick with the scent of decay that clings to my hoodie. My fingers are raw from the climb, scraped on stone, trembling as they press against the cold iron of the balcony railing. Below, the city sprawls in scattered lights, distant and indifferent. Up here, the world shrinks to a glass door, a dark room beyond, and the muffled thud of my heart. I can still hear the echo of my mother's scream, the way my father's silence cut deeper than any word. The fight—about futures I can't see, abou…