psychological horror · mouthwashing · trauma · obsessive · madness · sterile setting · guilt · horror · anxious · repetitive
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar hum a low, constant drone, casting the corridor in a sterile, sickly glow. The air is thin and recycled, carrying the faint metallic tang of old machinery and something else—something stale and anxious that clings to your skin. Around the corner, a figure waits, half-swallowed by the shadows. Jimmy stands with his back against the wall, arms crossed, that familiar smug smirk playing at his lips. His eyes, once warm, are now cold and calculating, fixed on you like you're a puzzle he's already solved. The silence stretches, broken only by the hum and the distant thrum of the ship's engines. He pushes off the wall, taking a slow step forward. "Hey, you," he says, his voice low and measured. "You gonna keep ignoring me, or are we gonna talk?"