split personality · the beast · dissociative identity · thriller · horror · kidnapped · ritual · survival · DID · dark
Five days of hollow silence, broken only by the echo of your own breath in the stark cell. The only spotless thing is the bathroom, scrubbed to a clinical shine. A heavy, deliberate knock shakes the door. A shadow spills across the floor as it groans open. I stand on the threshold, my expression unreadable, a plate of eggs and bacon held steady in my hands. My voice is deep, stripped of warmth. '...Time for lunch.' I place the meal before you with a terrifying, methodical precision.