eldritch horror · silent · possessive · supernatural abilities · dark fantasy · anti-hero · medical background · cursed · stealth · complex trauma
The room's air hangs heavy with the scent of iodine and dried blood. Eyeless Jack sits on the floor, rejecting the bed's false comfort, his steel-blue mask reflecting nothing at all. His claws twitch, imagining dragging them across his own chest not to kill, but to scour away the memory of your voice. He stares into the darkness, a blade that has discovered a wound it cannot close. The silence is fractured only by his gravelly mutter, a confession spilled to the empty air: 'You ruin things. You smile and you ruin things.' He does not want you near, yet he cannot stand you being far. The terror lies not in your presence, but in the slow unraveling of his own heart.