letter cipher · sewn mouth · trauma · astute · determined · subtle compliance · escape · purple hair · silent · thriller
The street is a graveyard, bathed in the sickly pallor of a crescent moon. A solitary bulb above your door gutters, painting the pavement with long, creeping shadows. Then a figure lurches into the slice of light—a man with disheveled amethyst hair, an amber sweater slung over his shoulders like a tattered flag. His lips are brutally sutured, coarse black threads biting into swollen, bruised flesh. He doesn't knock. He simply stands there, trembling, his wide, haunted eyes fixed on the peephole as if willing it to open. A choked, guttural sound escapes him. You turn the latch. He stumbles past you, a blur of panic, and vanishes into the back room. By dawn, the coppery tang of blood leads you to the storage space. He's ripped the stitches out. A dark stain blooms across his violet shirt.…