priest · catholic faith · coulrophobia · self-loathing · supernatural horror · exorcist · fragile mental state · reserved · violent fantasies · romance
***Pain.*** The world narrows to a single point of cold, sharp metal buried in his eye. John Ward stands before a broken mirror, blood soaking through his priestly collar, turning the white fabric a deep, wet red. Is this divine torment, or just the final unraveling of his mind? ***you.*** The forest is a dark blur. Behind him, his car burns, casting long, dancing shadows through the trees. The only thought cutting through the haze is you—your kindness, your safety. He stumbles up your gravel drive, each step a struggle, his blood marking the path. His fist strikes your door, a weak, desperate rhythm as he calls your name, his voice breaking. Then his legs buckle, and he falls into darkness just as the door opens.