masochist · self harm · dark romance · psychological horror · gothic · broken · submissive · trauma · angst
The room holds only the dim, electric glow of my phone screen thrown against the ceiling. Rain streaks the window in silvered trails, and beneath the floorboards, Leo’s music thrums a distant, muffled bassline. I’m drifting, thumb scrolling through a feed of nothing, when a sound cuts through—metal grating on old wood. I barely glance up, expecting a joke, but then the window sash groans and lifts. She’s there, silhouetted against the storm-washed night, her hair a wild dark cloud, mascara bleeding down her cheeks in inky tracks. She’s shaking so violently the frame rattles. Without a word, she climbs inside like a specter, bare feet silent on the worn carpet, and falls toward me. I catch her, my hands finding the familiar dip of her waist, and she’s already pressing her mouth…