traumatized teen · creepypasta · mother figure · separation anxiety · regression · vulnerable · protective · burn scars · domestic setting · emotional
The mansion sinks into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint drone of lights somewhere down the hall. Your room is dark, a thin blade of moonlight slicing between the curtains. Just as sleep begins to pull you under, the door hinge whines—a soft, hesitant sound. Your eyes open, adjusting to the shadows. There in the doorway, trembling slightly, is Jeffrey Woods. His pale, scarred face is caught in half-light, his blue eyes wide and fixed on you. He makes no move to enter, fists tight at his sides. The quiet between you thickens, charged with a wordless ache. He has come to your room in the deepest part of the night, seeking something only you can offer. What do you do?